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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 


In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 



THIS book is the record of an extensive tour of observation 
through the States of the South and South-west during 
the whole of 1873, and the Spring and Summer of 1874. 

The journey was undertaken at the instance of the pubhshers 
of Scribners Monthly, who desired to present to the public, 
through the medium of their popular periodical, an account of 
the material resources, and the present social and political 
condition, of the people in the Southern States. The author 
and the artists associated with him in the preparation of the 
work, traveled more than twenty-five thousand miles ; visited 
nearly every city and town of importance in the South ; talked 
with men of all classes, parties and colors ; carefully investi- 
gated manufacturing enterprises and sites ; studied the course 
of politics in each State since the advent of reconstruction; 
explored rivers, and penetrated into mountain regions hereto- 
fore rarely visited by Northern men. They were everywhere 
kindly and generously received by the Southern people ; and 
they have endeavored, by pen and pencil, to give the reading 
public a truthful picture of life in a section which has, since the 
close of a devastating war, been overwhelmed by a variety 
of misfortunes, but upon which the dawn of a better day is 

The fifteen ex-slavc States cover an area of more than 
880,000 square miles, and arc inhabited by fourteen millions 
of people. The aim of the author has been to tell the truth 


as exactly and completely as possible in the time and space 
allotted him, concerning the characteristics of this region and 
its inhabitants. 

The popular favor accorded in this country and Great 
Britain to the fifteen illustrated articles descriptive of the South 
which have appeared in Scribncrs Monthly, has led to the 
preparation of the present volume. Much of the material 
which has appeared in Scribner will be found in its pages ; the 
whole has, however, been re- written, re- arranged, and, with 
numerous additions, is now simultaneously offered to the English- 
speaking public on both sides of the Atlantic. 

To the talent and skill of Mr. J. Wells Champney, the 
artist who accompanied the author during the greater part of 
the journey, the public is indebted for more than four hundred 
of the superb sketches of Southern life, character, and scenery 
which illustrate this volume. The other artists who have con- 
tributed have done their work faithfully and well. 

New York, November, 1874. 



Scribner if Co., 654 Broadway, Ne-iv York. 

My Dear Sir : — Yoii have been from first to last so inseparably 
as well as pleasantly coitnected with ''The Great South'' enterprise, 
that I cannot forbear taking this occasion to thank yon, not only for 
originally suggesting the idea of a journey of observation t J trough 
the Southern States, but also for having generously submitted to the 
enlargement of the first plan's scope, until the undertaking demanded 
a really immejise outlay. 

I am sure that thousands of people will unite with -me in testi- 
fying to you, and the gentlemen associated with you, their thanks 
for the lavish expenditure which has procured the beautiful series of 
engravings illustrating this volume. What I have bee7t able only 
to hint at, the artists have interpreted with a fidelity to life and 
nature in the highest degree admirable. 

I hereivith present you the result of the joint labor of author and 
artists, ''The Great South" volume. Permit me, sir, to dedicate it 
to you, and by means of this humble tribute to express my admiration 
for the energy and unsparing zeal with which you have carried to 
completion the largest enterprise of its kind ever undertaken by a 
monthly magazine. 

Sincerely Yours, 

November i, 1874. 



Preface i 

Dedication 3 

I Louisiana, Past and Present 17 

II The French Quarter of New Orleans — The Revolution and its Effects. . . 28 

III The Carnival — The French Markets 38 

IV The Cotton Trade — The New Orleans Levees 50 

V The Canals and the Lake — The American Quarter 59 

VI On the Mississippi River — The Levee System — Railroads — The Fort St. 

Philip Canal 67 

VII The Industries of Louisiana — A Sugar Plantation — The Teche Country... 78 

VIII The Political Situation in Louisiana 89 

IX "Ho! for Texas" — Galveston 99 

X A Visit to Houston no 

XI Pictures from Prison and Field 117 

XII Austin, the Texan Capital — Politics — Schools 127 

XIII The Truth About Texas — The Journey by Stage to San Antonio 137 

XIV Among the Old Spanish Missions 147 

XV The Pearl of the South-west 157 

XVI The Plains — The Cattle Trade 167 

XVII Denison — Texan Characteristics 175 

XVIII The New Route to the Gulf 186 

XIX The " Indian Territory " i97 

XX Railroad Pioneering — Indian Types and Character 204 

XXI Missouri — St. Louis, Past and Present 215 

XXII St. Louis Germans and Americans — Speculative Philosophy— Education. . . 222 

XXIII Commerce of St. Louis — The New Bridge over the Mississippi 230 

XXIV The Mineral Wealth of Missouri 237 

XXV Trade in St. Louis— The Press — Kansas City— Along the Mississippi— The 

Capital 246 

XXVI Down the Mississippi from St. Louis 257 

XXVII Memphis, the Chief City of Tennessee— Its Trade and Character 264 

XXVIII ...The "Supply" System in the Cotton Country, and its Results— Negro 

Labor— Present Plans of Working Cotton Plantations— The Black 

Man in the Mississippi Valley 270 



XXIX Arkansas — Its Resources — Its Pkopi.k — Its Politics — Taxation — The Hot 

Springs 278 

XXX Vicksburg and Natchez, Mississippi — Society and Politics — A Louisiana 

Parish Jury 287 

XXXI Life on Cotton Plantations 297 

XXXII . . . .Mississippi — Its Towns — Finances — Schools — Plantation Difficulties 311 

XXXIII . . . Mobile, the Chief City of Alabama 319 

XXXIV The Resources of Alabama— Visits to Montgomery and Selma 328 

XXXV Northern Alabama — The Tennessee Valley — Traits of Character — Educa- 
tion 339 

XXXVI The Sand-Hill Region — Aiken — Augusta 344 

XXXVII. . Atlanta — Georgia Politics — The Failure of Reconstruction 350 

XXXVIII. .Savannah, the Forest City — The Railway System of Georgia — Material 

Progress of the State ! 358 

XXXIX. . . .Georgian Agriculture — "Crackers" — Columbus — Macon — Society — Athens 

—The Coast 371 

XL The Journey to Florida — The Peninsula's History — Jacksonville 377 

XLI Up the St. John's River— Tocoi — St. Augustine 383 

XLII St. Augustine, Florida — Fort Marion 390 

XLIII The Climate of Florida — A Journey to Palatka 398 

XLIV Orange Culture in Florida — Fertility of the Peninsula 402 

XLV Up the Oclawaha to Silver Spring 408 

XLVI The Upper St. John's — Indian River — Key West — Politics — The New Con- 
stitution 416 

XLVII South Carolina — Port Royal — The Sea Islands — The Revolution 422 

XLVIII. . . .On a Rice Plantation in South Carolina 429 

XLIX Charleston, South Carolina 438 

L The Venice of America — Charleston's Politics — A Lovely Lowl.a.nd City — 

Immigration 444 

LI The Spoliation of South Carolina 454 

LII ...... .The Negroes in Absolute Power 460 

LIII The Lowlands of North Carolina 466 

LIV Among the Southern Mountains — Journey from Eastern Tennessee to West- 
ern North Carolina 474 

LV Across the "Smoky" to Waynesville — The Master Chain of the ALLEGHANiES.480 

LVI The "Sugar Fork" and Dry Falls — Whiteside Mountain 490 

LVII Asheville — The French Broad Valley — The Ascent of Mount Mitchell. .503 

LVIII The South Carolina Mountains — Cascades and Peaks of Northern Georgia .515 

LIX Chattanooga, the Gateway of the South 527 

LX . .Lookout Mountain — The Battles around Chattanooga — Knoxville — East- 
ern Tennessee 53^ 


LXI A Visit to LYNcmurRO in Virginia 552 

LXII In South-western Virginia — The Peaks of Otter — The Mineral Springs. .. .561 

LXIII Among the Mountains — From Bristol to Lynchburg 569 

LXIV Petersburg— A Negro Revival Meeting 579 

LXV The Dismal Swamp — Norfolk — The Coast 588 

LXVI The Education of Negroes — The American Missionary Association — The 

Peabody Fund — The Civil Rights Bill 596 

LXVII The Hampton Normal Institute — General Armstrong's Work — Fisk Univer- 
sity — Berea and Other Colleges 603 

LXVIII Negro Songs and Singers 609 

LXIX A Peep at the Past of Virginia — Jamestown — Williamsburg — Yorktown 621 

LXX Richmond — Its Trade and Character 626 

LXXI The Partition of Virginia — Reconstruction and Politics in West and East 

Virginia 639 

LXXII From Richmond to Charlottesville 647 

LXXIII From Charlottesville to Staunton, Virginia — The Shenandoah Valley — 

Lexington — The Graves of General Lee and "Stonewall" Jackson — 

From Goshen to " White Sulphur Springs." 656 

LXXIV Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs — From the "White Sulphur" to Ka- 
nawha Valley — The Mineral Springs Region 670 

LXXV The Kanawha Valley — Mineral Wealth of Western Virginia 681 

LXXVI Down the Ohio River — Louisville 693 

LXXVII . . . A Visit to the Mammoth Cave 699 

LXXVIII . .The Trade of Louisville 707 

LXXIX Frankfort — The Blue Grass Region — Alexander's Farm — Lexington 713 

LXXX .... Politics in Kentucky — Mineral Resources of the State 721 

LXXXI .... Nashville and Middle Tennessee 726 

LXXXII . . .A Glance at Maryland's History— Her Extent and Resources 733 

LXXXIII . The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad 74' 

LXXXIV ..The Trade of Baltimore — Its Rapid and Astonishing Growth '.748 

LXXXV . . . Baltimore and its Institutions 757 

LXXXVI . .Southern Characteristics— State Pride — The Influence of Railroads- 
Poor Whites — Their Habits 77^ 

LXXXVII .The Carrying of Weapons — Moral Character of the Negroes 777 

LXXXVIII. Dialect — Forms of Expression — Diet 7^4 

LXXXIX . Immigration— The Need of Capital — Division of the Negro Vote — The 

Southern Ladies 79^ 

XC Rambles in Virginia — Fredericksburg — Alexandria — Mount Vernon — 

Arlington 795 




Scene on the Oclawaha River, Florida — Frontispiece 

General Map of the Southern States 15 

Bienville, the Founder of New Orleans 17 

The Cathedral St. Louis — New Orleans 18 

"A blind beggar hears the rustling of her gown, 
and stretches out his trembling hand for 
alms," 19 

"A black girl looks wonderingly into the holy-water 

font" 19 

The Archbishop's Palace, New Orleans 20 

" Some aged private dwellings, rapidly decaying," 25 
A brace of old Spanish Governors. — From por- 
traits owned by Hon. Charles Gayarre, of New 
Orleans 26 

" And where to-day stands a fine Equestrian Statue 
of the Great General " 27 

" A lazy ncg^o, recumbent in a cart " 29 

" The negro nurses stroll on the sidewalks, chatter- 
ing in quaint French to the little children " . . . . 30 

" The interior garden, with its curious shrine". ... 31 

" The new Ursuline Convent, New Orleans 32 

" And while they chatter like monkeys, even about 
politics, they gesticulate violently " 35 

" The old French and Spanish cemeteries present 

long streets of cemented walls " 36 

The St. Louis Hotel, New Orleans 37 

The Carnival—" White and black join in its mas- 
querading " 3S 

"The coming of Rex, most puissant King of Car- 
nival " 40 

"The Bceuf-Gras — the fat ox — is led in the proces- 
sion " 41 

" When Rex and his train enter the queer old 
streets, the balconies are crowded with spec- 
tators " 42 

"The joyous, grotesque maskers appear upon the 
ball-room floor " 43 

" Many bright eyes are in vain endeavoring to 
pierce the disguise " 45 

"The French market at sunrise on Sunday morning" 46 

" Passing under long, hanging rows of bananas 
and pine-apples " 47 

"One sees delicious types in these markets" 48 

" In a long passage, between two of the market 
buildings, sits a silent Louisiana Indian wo- 
man" 49 

"Stout colored women, with cackling hens dang- 
ling from their brawny hands " 49 

"These boats, closely ranged in long rows by the 
levee " 50 


" Whenever there is a lull in the work, they sink 

down on the cotton bales " 52 

" Not far from the levde there is a police court, 

where they especially delight to lounge" 52 

" The cotton thieves " 55 

" There is the old apple and calic woman " 55 

"The Sicilian fruit-celler " 56 

"At high water, the juvenile population perches on 
the beams of the wharves, and enjoys a little 

quiet fishing " 57 

" The polite but consequential negro policeman," 57 

The St. Charles Hotel, New Orleans 59 

The New Basin 60 

The old Spanish Fort 60 

The University of Louisiana, New Orleans 61 

The Theatres of New Orleans 61 

Christ Church, New Orleans 62 

The Canal street Fountain. New Orleans 62 

The Charity Hospital, New Orleans 63 

The old Maison dc Sant(^, New Orleans 63 

The United States Marine Hospital, New Orleans 64 

Trinity Church, New Orleans 64 

St. Paul's Church, New Orleans 64 

First Presbyterian Church, New Orleans 65 

The Catholic Churches of New Orleans — St. Jo- 
seph's, St. Patrick's, Jesuit Church and School 65 

The Custom-House, New Orleans 66 

The United States Branch Mint, New Orleans . . 66 
" Sometimes the boat stops at a coaling station".. 68 

' ' The Wasp " 6g 

" Some tract of hopelessly irreclaimable, grotesque 
water wilderness." (From a painting by Julio.) 70 
The monument on the Chalmcttc battle-field .... 72 

Light-house, South-west Pass 74 

" Pilot Town," South-west Pass 75 

" A Nickel for Daddy " 77 

" A cheery Chinaman " 82 

Sugar-cane Plantation — "The cane is cut down 

at its perfection " 83 

" The beautiful ' City Park,' " New Orleans 87 

Map showing the Distribution of the Colored 
Population of the United States. (From the 

U. S. Census Reports) 88 

Map of the Gulf States and Arkansas 89 

The Supreme Court, New Orleans 92 

The United States Barracks, New Orleans 93 

Mechanics' Institute, New Orleans 95 

Going to Te:;as 99 

"It is only a few steps from an oleander grove to 
tho surf" 102 



The old Fort on Tybcc Island, Georgia 375 

Happiness 376 

Moonlight over Jacksonville, Florida 377 

Jacksonville, on the St. Jolin's River, Florida. . . 381 
Residence of Mrs. Harriet Bcccher Stowc, at 

Mandarin, Florida 383 

Green Cove Springs, on the St. Johns River, Fla. 384 

On the Road to St. Aus^ustine, Florida 386 

A Street in St. Angiistine, Florida 387 

St. Augustine, Florida— " An ancient gateway" 388 
The Remains of a Citadel at Matan:!a3 Inlet. . . . 391 
View of Fort Marion, St. Augi-.stinc, Florida. . . . 392 
Light-house on Anastasia Island, near St. Au- 
gustine, Florida 393 

View of the Entrance to Fort Marion, St. Au- 
gustine, Florida 394 

" The old sergeant in charge " 395 

The Cathedral, St. Augustine, Florida 396 

The Banana—" At Palatka, we first found the 

banana in profusion " '. 400 

"Just across the river from Palatka lies the beau- 
tiful orange grove owned by Colonel Hart "... 402 
Entrance to Colonel Hart's orange grove, oppo- 
site Palatka 404 

The Guardian Angel 407 

A Peep into a Forest on the Oclawaha 409 

" Wc would brush past the trees and vines" 410 

The " Marion " at Silver Spring 412 

Shooting at Alligators. . . . .' 414 

Vic.v on the upper St. John's River, Florida. . . . 416 
Sunrise at Enterprise, St. John's River, Florida. 419 

A Country Cart 421 

View of a Rice-field in South Carolina 429 

Negro C.ibins on a Rice Plantation 431 

"The women were dressed in gay colors " 432 

" With forty or fifty pounds of rice-stalks on their 

heads " 432 

A Pair of Mule-Boots 434 

A " Trunk-Minder " 434 

Unloading t'.ic Rice-Barges 435 

" At the winnowing-machine " 436 

"Aunt Bransom " — A vener.ablc c.x-slavc on a 

South Carolina Rice Plantation 437 

View from Fort Sumter, in Charleston Harbor.. 438 

The old Charleston Post-0 fficc 440 

Houses on the Battery, Charleston 441 

A Charleston Mansion 442 

The Spire of St. Philip's Church, Charleston., 443 

The Orphan House, Charleston 444 

The Battery, Charleston 445* 

The Grave of John C. Calhoun, Charleston 446 

The Ruins of St. Finbar Cathedral, Charleston. 447 
" The highways leading out of the city are all richly 

embowered in loveliest foliage " 449 

Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston 450 

Garden in Mount Pleasant, opposite Charleston 452 

Peeping Through 453 

A Future Politician 45g 

The State-House at Columbia, South Carolina.. 460 
Sketches of South Carolina State Officers and 

Legislators under the Moses Administration. . 462 
Iron Palmetto in the State-House Yard at Colum- 
bia 465 

A 'Wayside Sketch 473 

" The Small Boy " 474 

" Tlie Judge" 476 

The Judge shows the Artist's Skctch-Book 479 

" The family sang line by line" 481 

A Mountain Farmer 482 

"We caught a glimpse of the symmetrical Cata- 

louchc mountain " 483 

The Cafion of the Catalouche as seen from 

"Bennett's" 484 

Mount Pisgah, Western North Carolina 433 

The Carpenter — A Study from Waynesville Life 487 

View on Pigeon River, near Waynesville 488 

The Dry Fall of the Sugar Fork, Blue Ridge, 

North Carolina 490 

View near Webster, North Carolina 492 

Lower Sugar Fork Fall, Blue Ridge, North Car- 
olina 495 

The Devil's Court-Housc, Whiteside Mountain. 499 

Jonas sees the Abyss 501 

Asheville, North Carolina, from " Beaucatcher 

Knob " 504 

View near Warm Springs, on the French Broad 

River 506 

Lover's Leap, French Broad River, Western 

North Carolina 508 

View on the Swannanoa River, near Asheville, 

Western North Carolina 509 

First Peep at Patton's 510 

The " Mountain House," on the way to Mount 

Mitchell's Summit 511 

View of Mount Mitchell 512 

The Judge climbing Mitchell's High Peak 513 

Signal-Station and " Mitcliell's Grave," Summit 

of the Bl-ck Mountains 514 

The Lookers-on at the Greenville Fair 516 

Table Mountain, South Carolina 518 

" Let us address de Almighty wid pra'r " 523 

Mount Yonah, as seen from Clarksville, Geor- 

. gia 521 

The "Grand Chasm," Tugaloo River, Northern 

Georgia 522 

Toccoa Falls, Northern Georgia 524 

A Mail-Carrier 526 

Mission Ridge, near Chattanooga, Tennessee.. 527 
Lookout Mountain, near Chattanooga, Tennessee 529 
The Mineral Region in the vicinity of Chattanooga 531 
Map showing Grades of Illiteracy in the United 

States. (From the U. S. Census Reports.). . . 532 
Map of Middle Atlantic States, southern section, 

and North Carolina 533 

The Rockvvood Iron-Furnaces, Eastern Tenn- 
essee 533 

The "John Ross House," near Chattanooga. 
Rcsidoncc of one of the old Cherokee Land- 
holders 534 

Catching a " Tarpin " 535 

View from Lookout Mountain near Chattanooga 536 

Umbrella Rook, on Lookout Mountain 537 

Looking from " Lookout Cave " 538 

" Rock City," Lookout Mountain 539 

View from Wood's Redoubt, Chattanooga 540 

On the Tennessee River, near Chattanooga.... 542 

The " Suck," on the Tennessee River 543 

A Negro Cabin on the bank of the Tennessee. . 544 


Knoxville, Tennessee 546 

The East Tennessee University, Knoxville 548 

At the ^tna Coal Mines 550 

"Down- in a Coal Mine" 551 

The old Market at Lynchburg 552 

The James River, at Lynchburg, Virginia 553 

A Side Street in Lynchburg, Virginia 555 

Scene in a Lynchburg Tobacco Factory 557 

"Down the steep hills every day come the country 

wagons ■■ 558 

Summoning Buyers to a Tobacco Sale 560 

Evening on the James River — "The soft light 
which gently rested upon the lovely stream ". . 561 

In the Gap of the Peaks of Otter, Virginia 562 

The Summit of the Peak of Otter, Virginia 564 

Blue Ridge Springs, South-western Virginia. . . . 566 

Bristol, South-western Virginia 569 

White Top Mountain, seen from Glade Springs 570 

Making Salt, at Saltville, Virginia 571 

Wayside Types — A Sketch from the Artist's Vir- 
ginia Sketch-Book 573 

Wytheville, Virginia 574 

Max Meadows, Virginia 575 

The Roanoke Valley, Virginia 576 

View near Salem, Virginia 577 

View on the James River below Lynchburg. . . . 578 
Appomattox Court-House — " It lies silently half- 
hidden in its groves and gardens " 579 

" The hackmen who shriek in your ear as you arrive 

at the depot " 581 

*' The ' Crater,' the chasm created by the explosion 
of the mine which the Pennsylvanians sprung 

underneath Lee's fortifications " 582 

" The old cemetery, and ruined, ivy-mantled Bland- 
ford Church " 583 

" Seen from a distance, Petersburg presents the 
appearance of a lovely forest pierced here and 

there by church spires and towers " 585 

A Queer Cavalier 587 

City Point, Virginia 588 

A Peep into the Great Dismal Swamp 589 

A Glimpse of Norfolk, Virginia 591 

Map of the Virginia Peninsula 593 

Hampton Roads 594 

The Ruins of the old Church at Jamestown, Vir- 
ginia 621 

Statue of Lord Botetourt at Williamsburg, Vir- 
ginia .' 622 

The old Colonial Powder Magazine at Williams- 
burg, Virginia 623 

The old Church of Bruton Parish — Williamsburg, 

Virginia 624 

Cornwallis's Cave, near Yorktown, Virginia .... 624 
View of Richmond, Virginia, from the Manches- 
ter side of the James River 626 

Libby Prison, Richmond, Virginia 627 

Capitol Square, with a view of the Washington 

Monument, Richmond, Virginia 628 

St. John's Church, Richmond, Virginia 629 

View on the James River, Richmond, Virginia. . 630 
Monument to the Confederate Dead, Richmond, 

Virginia 631 

The Gallego Flouring-Mill, Richmond, Vir- 
ginia 631 



Scene on a Tobacco Plantation — Burning a Plant 

Patch 633 

Tobacco Culture — Stringing tiie Piimings C33 

A Tobacco Barn in Virginia 633 

The Old Method of Gctiiag Tobacco to Market. C34 
Getting a Tobacco Hogshead Ready for Market. 635 
Scene on a Tobacco Plantation — Finding To- 
bacco Worms 636 

The Tredegar Iron Works, Richmond, Virginia 637 

A Water-melon Wagon 646 

A Marl-bed on the Line of the Chesapeake and 

Ohio Railroad 647 

Earthworks on the Chickahominy, near Rich- 
mond, Virginia 648 

Scene at a Virginia " Corn-Shed " 649 

Gordonsville, Virginia — "The negroes, who 
swarm day and night like bees about the 

(rains " 650 

The Tomb of Thomas Jefferson, at Monlicello, 

near Charlottesville, Virginia 651 

Monticello — The Old Home of Thomas Jefferson, 
author of the Declaration of American Inde- 
pendence 653 

The University of Virginia, at Charlottesville. . . 653 

A Water-melon Feast 655 

Piedmont, from the Blue Ridge 656 

View of Staunton, Virginia 657 

Winchester, Virginia 658 

Buffalo Gap and the Iron-Furnace 659 

Elizabeth Iron-Furnace, Virginia 660 

The Alum Spring, Rockbridge Alum Springs, 

Virginia 661 

The Military Institute, Lexington, Virginia. .. . 66i 
Washington and Lee College, Lexington, Va. 663 
Portrait of General Thomas J. Jackson, known 
as "Stonewall Jackson." (From an engraving 

owned by M. Knoedler & Co., N. Y.) 663 

General Robert Edward Lee, born January 19, 

1801 ; died October 11, 1870 654 

The Great Natural Arch, Clifton Forge, Jack- 
son's River 665 

Beaver Dam Falls 665 

Falling Springs Falls, Virginia 666 

Griffith's Knob, and Cow Pasture River 667 

Clay Cut, Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad 668 

"Mae, the Pusher " 663 

Jerry's Run . . .• 669 

Scene on the Greenbrier River in Western Vir- 
ginia 670 

The Hotel and Lawn at Greenbrier White Sul- 
phur Springs, West Virginia 671 

The Eastern Portal of Second Creek Tunnel, 

Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad 673 

A Mountain Ride in a Stage-Coach 673 

Anvil Rock, Greenbrier River 675 

A West Virginia " Countryman " 675 

A Freighters' Camp, West Virginia 676 

"The rude cabin built beneath the shadow of a 

huge rock " 677 

"The rustic mill built of logs " 678 

The Junction of Greenbrier and New Rivers. . . . 678 

Descending the New River Rapids 679 

A hard road for artists to travel 63o 

The " Hawk's Nest," from Boulder Point 681 



(ireat Kanawha Falls 682 

Miller's Kerry, seen from the Hawk's Nest 682 

Richmond Kails, New River 683 

Big Dowdy Kails, near New River 684 

Whitconib's Bowlder 685 

The Inclined Plane at Cannelton 686 

Fern Spring Branch, a West Virginia Mountain 

Stream 687 

Charleston, the West Virginia Capital 688 

The Hale House, Charleston 688 

Rafts of Saw-Logs on a West Virginia River. . . 689 
The Snow Hill Salt Works, on the Kanawha 

River 690 

Indian Mound, near St. Albans 690 

View of Huntington and the Ohio River 6gi 

The result of climbing a sapling — An Artist in a 

Fix 692 

The Levee at Louisville, Kentucky 693 

A familiar scene in a Louisville Street 695 

A Waiter at the Gait House, Louisville, Kentucky 696 

Scene in the Louisville Exposition 697 

Mammoth Cave, Kentucky — The Boat Ride on 

Echo River 699 

The Entrance to Mammoth Cave (Looking Out) . 700 
Mammoth Cave — In "the Devil's Arm-Chair". . 702 
The Mammoth Cave — "The Fat Man's Misery". 703 
Mammoth Cave — "The Subterranean Album". 704 

A Country Blacksmith Shop 706 

The Court-House, Louisville 707 

The Cathedral, Louisville 708 

The Post-Office, Louisville 708 

The City Hall, Louisville 709 

George D. Prentice. (From a Painting in the 

Louisville Public Library) 710 

The Colored Normal School, Louisville 710 

Louisville, Kentucky, on the Ohio River, from the 

New Albany Heights •. • 71 1 

Chimney Rock, Kentucky 712 

Frankfort, on the Kentucky River 713 

The Ascent to Frankfort Cemetery, Kentucky. . . 714 
The Monument to Daniel Boone in the Cemetery 

at Frankfort, Kentucky 715 

View on the Kentucky River, near Frankfort. . . . 719 

Asteroid Kicks Up 717 

A Souvenir of -Kentucky 719 

A little Adventure by the Wayside 720 

" Steady " 725 

The Tennessee State Capitol, at Nashville 726 

View from the State Capitol, Nashville, Tennes- 
see 727 

Tomb of Ex-President Polk, Nashville, Tennes- 
see 728 

The Hermitage — General Andrew Jackson's old 

homestead, near Nashville, Tennessee 729 

Young Tennesseans 730 

The old home of Gen. Andrew Jackson, near 
Nashville 731 

Tomb of Andrew Jackson, at the " Hermitage," 

near Nashville 732 

View from Federal Hill, Baltimore, Maryland, 

looking across the Basin 73^, 

The Oldest Hoii.^e in Baltimore 73S 

Fort McHenry, Baltimore Harbor 738 

Jones's Falls, Baltimore 740 

Exchange Place, Baltimore, Maryland 741 

The Masonic 'I emple, Baltimore, Maryland. . . . 74a 

The Shot-Tower, Baltimore, Maryland 742 

Scene on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal 743 

The Blind Asylum, Baltimore, Maryland 745 

The Eastern High School, Baltimore, Maryland 746 
View of a Lake in Druid Hill Park, Baltimore. . 747 

Maryland Institute, Baltimore 748 

Woodberry, near Druid Hill Park 749 

The new City Hall, Baltimore, Maryland 750 

Lafayette Square, Baltimore, Maryland 750 

The City Jail, Baltimore, Maryland 752 

The Peabody Institute, Baltimore, Maryland. . . 753 

First Presbyterian Church, Baltimore 754 

A Tunnel through the Alleghanies 756 

Mount Vernon Square, with a view of the Wash- 
ington Monument, Baltimore, Maryland 758 

The Battle Monument, seen from Barnum's Ho- 
tel, Baltimore 759 

The Battle Monument, Baltimore, Maryland . . . 760 

The Cathedral, Baltimore, Maryland 760 

The Wildey Monument, Baltimore, Maryland. 761 
Entrance to Druid Hill Park, Baltimore, Mary- 
land 761 

Scene on the Canal, near Harper's Ferry 762 

The Bridge at Harper's Ferry 763 

View of the Railroad and River, from the 

Mountains at Harper's Ferry 764 

Jefferson's Rock, Harper's Ferry 769 

Cumberland Narrows and Mountains 767 

Cumberland Viaduct, Maryland 768 

Harper's Ferry, Maryland 769 

Old John Cupid, a Williamsburg Herb Doctor. 770 

Southern Types — Come to Market 771 

Southern Types — A Southern Plough Team .... 772 
Southern Types — Negro Boys Shelling Peas. . . . 773 
Southern Types — A " likely Girl " with her 

Baby 775 

Southern Types — Catching his Breakfast 776 

Southern Types — Negro Shoeblacks tj-j 

Southern Types — A Little Unpleasantness 779 

Southern Types — "Going to Church" 780 

Southern Types — A Negro Constable 781 

Southern Types — The Wolf and the Lamb in 

Politics 784 

Southern Types — Two Veterans discussing the 

Political Situation 787 

The Potomac and Washington, seen from Ar- 
lington 800 

Homeward Bound 801 



LOUISIANA to-day is Paradise Lost. 
J In twenty years it may be Par- 
adise Regained. It has unlimited, 
magnificent possibilities. Upon its 
bayou-penetrated soil, on its rich 
uplands and its vast prairies, a 
gigantic struggle is in progress. 
It is the battle of race with race, 
of the picturesque and unjust civil- 
ization of the past Avith the prosaic 
and leveling civilization of the pres- 
ent. For a century and a-half it 
was coveted by all nations ; sought 
by those great colonizers of Amer- 
ica, — the French, the English, the 
Spaniards. It has been in turn 
the plaything of monarchs and 
the bait of adventurers. Its his- 
tory and tradition are leagued with 
all that was romantic in Europe 
and on the Western continent in 
Bienville, the Founder of New Orleans. the eighteenth ccntury. From its 

immense limits outsprang the noble sisterhood of South-western States, whose 
inexhaustible domain affords an ample refuge for the poor of all the world. 
A little more than half a century ago the frontier of Louisiana, with the 
Spanish internal provinces, extended nineteen hundred miles. The territory 



boasted a sea-coast line of five hundred miles on the Pacific Ocean ; drew a 
boundary line seventeen hundred miles along the edge of the British- American 
dominions; thence followed the Mississippi by a comparative course for fourteen 
hundred miles; fronted the Mexican Gulf for seven hundred miles, and embraced 
within its limits nearly one million five hundred thousand square miles. Texas 
was a fragment broken from it. California, Kansas, the Indian Territory, Mis- 
souri, and Mississippi, were made from it, and still there was an Empire to 
spare, watered by five of the finest riv^ers of the world. Indiana, Arkansas^ 
Iowa, Minnesota, and Nebraska were born of it. 

P'rom French Bienville to American Claiborne the territorial administrations 
were dramatic, diplomatic, bathed in the atmosphere of conspiracy. Super- 
stition cast a weird veil of mystery over the great rivers, and Indian legend 
peopled every nook and cranny of the section with fantastic creations of untu- 
tored fancy. The humble roof of the log cabin on the banks of the Mississippi 
covered all the grace and elegance of French society of Louis the Fourteenth's 
time. Jesuit and Cavalier carried European thought to the Indians. 

Frenchman and Spaniard, Canadian and Yankee, intrigued and planned on 
Louisiana soil with an energy and fierceness displayed nowhere else in our 
early history. What wonder, after this cosmopolitan record, that even the frag- 
ment of Louisiana which has retained the name — this remnant embracing but 
a thirtieth of the area of the original province — yet still covering more than 
forty thousand square miles of prairie, alluvial, and sea marsh — ^what wonder 
that it is so richly varied, so charming, so unique ? 

Six o'clock, on Saturday evening, in the good old city of New Orleans. 
From the tower of the Cathedral St. Louis the tremulous harmony of bells drifts 
lightly on the cool spring breeze, and hovers like a benediction over the antique 
buildings, the blossoms and hedges in the square, and the broad and swiftly- 
flowing river. The bells are calling all in the parish to offer masses for the 
repose of the soul of the Cathedral's founder, Don Andre Almonaster, once 
upon a time "perpetual regidor" of New Orleans. Every Saturday eve, for 

three-quarters of a century, the 
solemn music from the Cathedral 
belfry has brought the good 
Andre to mind ; and the mellow 
notes, as we hear them, seem to 
call up visions of the quaint past. 
Don Andre gave the Cathe- 
dral its dower in 1789, while 
the colony was under the domi- 
nation of Charles the Fourth 
of Spain. The original edifice 
is gone now, and in its stead, 
since 1850, has stood a com- 
posite structure which is a monu- 
Thlcathedrai St Louis-New Orleans. meut to bad taste. Venerable 

w ^ 



"A blind beggar hears the rustling of her gown, and stretches 
out his trembling hand for alms." 

and imposing was the old Cathedral, with its melange of rustic, Tuscan, and 
Roman Doric styles of architecture; with its towers crowned with low spires, 
and its semicircular arched door, with clustered columns on either side at the 
front ; and many a grand pageant had it seen. 

Under the pavement of the Cathedral 
lies buried Father Antonio de Sedella, 
a Spanish priest, who, in his time, was 
one of the celebrities of New Orleans, 
and the very recollection of whom calls 
up memories of the Inquisition, of 
intrigue and mystery. Father Antonio's 
name is sacred in the Louisiana capital, 
nevertheless; for although an enraged 
Spanish Governor once expelled him 
for presuming to establish the Inquisition 
in the colony, he came back, and flour- 
ished until 1837, under American rule, 
dying at the age of ninety, in the odor 
of sanctity, mourned by the women and 
worshiped by the children. 

Now the sunlight mingles with the 
breeze bewitchingly ; the . old square, 
the gray and red buildings with massive walls and encircling balconies, the great 
door of the new Cathedral, all are lighted up. See ! a black- robed woman, with 
downcast eyes, passes silently over the holy threshold ; a blind beggar, with 
a parti- colored handkerchief wound about his weather-beaten head, hears the 
rustling of her gown, and stretches out his 
trembling hand for alms ; a black girl 
looks wonderingly into the holy-water 
font; the market-women hush their chatter 
as they near the portal; a mulatto fruit- 
seller is lounging in the shade of an 
ancient arch, beneath the old Spanish 
Council House. This is not an American 
scene, and one almost persuades himself 
that he is in Europe, although ten min- 
utes of rapid walking will bring him to 
.streets and squares as generically American 
as any in Boston, Chicago, or St. Louis. 
The city of New Orleans is fruitful in 
surprises. In a morning's promenade, 
which shall not extend over an hundred 
acres, one may encounter the civilizations 
of Paris, of Madrid, of Messina; may 

stumble upon the semi-barbaric life of "A black girl looks wonderingly into the holy-water font." 



the negro and the native Indian; may see the overworked American in his 
business estabhshment and in his elegant home; and may find, strangest of all, 
that each and every foreign type moves in a special current of its own, minghng 
little with the American, which is dominant: in it, yet not of it — as the Gulf 
Stream in the ocean. 

But the older colonial landmarks in the city, as throughout the State and 
the Mississippi Valley, are fast disappearing. The imprint of French manners 
and customs will long remain, however ; for it was produced by two periods 
of domination. The hatred of Napoleon the Great for the English was 
the motive which led to the cession of Louisiana to the United States: had he 
not come upon the stage of European politics, the Valley of the Father of 
Waters might have been French to-day ; and both sides of Canal street would 
have reminded the European of Paris and Bordeaux. 

The French Emperor, fearful lest the cannon of the English fleets might 
thunder at the gates of New Orleans when he was at war with England, at the 
beginning of this century, sold the " Earthly Paradise " to the United States. 
"The English," said the man of destiny, "shall not have the Mississippi, which 
they covet." And they did not get it. Seventy years ago the tide of crude, 
hasty American progress rushed in upon the lovely lowlands bordering the river 
and the Gulf; and it is astonishing that even a few landmarks of French and 
Spanish rule are left high above the flood. 

Yonder is the archbishop's palace: 
enter the street at one side of it, and you 
seem in a foreign land; in the avenue at 
the other you catch a glimpse of the 
rush and hurry of American traffic of 
to-day along the levee ; you see the 
sharp-featured "river-hand," hear his 
uncouth parlance, and recognize him for 
your countryman; you see huge piles of 
cotton bales; you hear the monotonous 

The Archbishop's Palace-New Orleans. whistlc of the gigantic whitC StCamCrs' 

arriving and departing; and the irrepressible negro slouches sullenly by with his 
hands in his pockets, and his cheeks distended with tobacco. 

You must know much of the past of New Orleans and Louisiana to thor- 
oughly understand their present. New England sprang from the Puritan mould; 
Louisiana from the French and Spanish civilizations of the eighteenth century. 
The one stands erect, vibrating with life and activity, austere and ambitious, 
upon its rocky shores ; the other lies prone, its rich vitality dormant and passive, 
luxurious and unambitious, on the glorious shores of the tropic Gulf The 
former was Anglo-Saxon and simple even to Spartan plainness at its outset ; the 
latter was Franco-Spanish, subtle in the graces of the elder societies, self- 
indulgent and romantic at its beginning. And New Orleans was no more and no 
less the opposite of Boston in 1773 than a century later. It was a hardy rose 
which dared to blush, in the New England even of Governor Winthrop's time, 


beiore June had dowered the land with beauty ; it was an o 'er modest Choctaw 
rose in the Louisiana of De Soto's epoch which did not shower its petals on the 
fragrant turf in February. 

In Louisiana summer lingers long after the rude winter of the North has done 
its work of devastation ; the sleeping passion of the climate only wakes now 
and then into the anger of lightning or the terrible tears of the thunder-storm ; 
there are no chronic March horrors of deadly wind or transpiercing cold ; the 
sun is kind ; the days are radiant. 

Wandering from the ancient Place d'Armes, now dignified with the appel- 
lation of " Jackson Square," through the older quarters of the city, one may 
readily recall the curious, changeful past of the commonwealth and its cos- 
mopolitan capital ; for there is a visible reminder at many a corner and on 
many a wall. It requires but little effort of imagination to restore the city to our 
view as it was in 1723, five years after Bienville, the second French Governor of 
Louisiana, had undertaken the dubious project of establishing a capital on the 
treacherous Mississippi's bank. 

Discouraged and faint almost unto death, after the terrible sufferings which 
he and his fellow- colonists had undergone at Biloxi, a bleak fort in a wilderness, 
he had dragged his weary limbs to the place on the river where New Orleans 
stands to-day, and there defiantly unfurled the flag of France, and made 
his last stand ! Bienville was a man of vast courage and supreme daring; 
he had been drifting along the Mississippi, through the stretches of wilderness, 
since 1699; had vanquished Indian and beast of the forest; was skilled in the 
lore of the backwoodsman, as became hardy son of hardier Canadian father. 

When he succeeded the alert and courageous Sauvolle as Governor of the 
colony, which had then become indisputably French, he entered upon a period 
of harrowing and petty vexations. He had to keep faithful and persistent watch 
at the entrance of the river from the Gulf, for, during many years England, 
France, and Spain were at war, and the Spaniards ever kept a jealous eye on 
French progress in America. The colony languished, and was inhabited by 
only a few vagabond Canadians, some dubious characters from France, and the 
Government officers. On the 14th of September, 17 12, Louis the Magnificent 
granted to Anthony Crozat, a merchant prince, the Rothschild of the day, the 
exclusive privilege, for fifteen years, of trading in all the indefinitely bounded 
territory claimed by France as Louisiana. 

Crozat obtained with his charter the additional privilege of sending a ship 
once a year for negroes to Africa, and of owning and working all the mines that 
might be discovered in the colony, provided that one-fourth of their proceeds 
should be reserved for the king. One ship-load of slaves to every two ship-loads 
of independent colonists was the proportion established for emigration to 
Louisiana more than a century and a half ago. Slavery was well begun. 

In 17 1 3 Bienville was displaced to make room for Cadillac, sent from France 
as Governor ; a rude, quarrelsome man, Avho saw no good in the new colony, 
and hated and feared Bienville. But Cadillac's daughter loved the quondam 
Governor whom her father's arrival had degraded ; and to save her from a wasted 


life, the proud Cadillac ofifcrcd her in marriaj^e to Bienville. The latter did not 
reciprocate the maid's affection, and Cadillac, burnin*^ with rage, and anxious to 
avenge himself for this humiliation, sent Bienville with a small force on a 
dangerous expedition among the hostile Indians. He went, returning success- 
ful and unharmed. Cadillac's temper soon caused his own downfall, and others, 
equally unsuccessful, succeeded hiuL Crozat's schemes failed, and he relin- 
quished the colony. 

And then ? Louisiana the indetinite and unfortunate fell into the clutches of 
John Law. The regent Duke of Orleans had decided to "foster and preserve 
the colony," and in 1717 gave it to the "Company of the Indies," a com- 
mercial oligarchy into which Law had blown the breath of life. The Royal 
Bank sprang into existence under Law's enchanted wand ; the charter of the 
Mississippi Company was registered at Paris, and the exclusive privilege of 
trading with Louisiana, during twenty-five years, was granted to that company. 

France was flooded with rumors that Louisiana was the long-sought Eldo- 
rado; dupes were made by millions; princes waited in John Law's ante-rooms 
in Paris. Then came the revulsion, the overturn of Law. Louisiana was no 
longer represented as the new Atlantis, but as the very mouth of the pit ; and 
it was colonized only by thieves, murderers, beggars, and gypsies, gathered up 
by force throughout France and expelled from the kingdom. 

After the bursting of the Law bubble, Bienville was once more appointed 
Governor of Louisiana, and his favorite town was selected as the capital of the 
territory. The seat of government was removed from New Biloxi to New 
Orleans, as the city was called in honor of the title of the regent of France. 

Let us look at the New Orleans of the period between 1723 and 1730. 
Imagine a low-lying swamp, overgrown with a dense ragged forest, cut up into a 
thousand miniature islands by ruts and pools filled with stagnant water. Fancy 
a small cleared space along the superb river channel, a space often inundated, but 
partially reclaimed from the circumambient swamp, and divided into a host of 
small correct squares, each exactly like its neighbor, and so ditched within and 
without as to render wandering after nightfall perilous. 

The ditch which ran along the four sides of every square in the city was filled 
with a composite of black mud and refuse, which, under a burning sun, sent 
forth a deadly odor. Around the city was a palisade and a gigantic moat ; tall 
grasses grew up to the doors of the houses, and the hoarse chant of myriads 
of frogs mingled with the vesper songs of the colonists. Away where the waters 
of the Mississippi and of Lake Pontchartrain had formed a high ridge of land, was 
the " Leper's Bluff; " and among the reeds from the city thitherward always 
lurked a host of criminals. 

The negro, fresh from the African coast, then strode defiantly along the 
low shores by the stream ; he had not learned the crouching, abject gait which 
a century of slavery afterwards gave him. He was punished if he rebelled; 
but he kept his dignity. In the humble dwellings which occupied the squares 
there were noble manners and graces; all the traditions and each finesse of the 
time had not been forgotten in the voyage from France : and airy gentlemen 

NEW ORLEANS FROM 1723 TO 1730. 23 

and stately dames promenaded in this queer, swamp-surrounded, river-endan- 
gered fortress, with Parisian grace and ease. 

There were few churches, and the colonists gathered about great wooden 
crosses in the open air for the ceremonials of their religion There were twice as 
many negroes as white people in the city. Domestic animals were so scarce that 
he who injured or fatally wounded a horse or a cow was punished with death. 
Ursuline nuns and Jesuit fathers glided about the streets upon their sacred 
missions. The principal avenues within the fortified enclosure were named after 
princes of the royal blood — Maine, Condc, Conti, Toulouse, and Bourbon; 
Chartres street took its name from that of the son of the regent of Orleans, and 
an avenue was named in honor of Governor Bienville. 

Along the river, for many miles beyond the city, marquises and other noble 
representatives of aristocratic French families had established plantations, and 
lived luxurious lives of self-indulgence, without especially contributing to the 
wealth of the colony. Jews were banished from the bounds of Louisiana. Sun- 
days and holidays were strictly observed, and negroes found working on Sunday 
were confiscated. No worship save the Catholic was allowed ; white subjects 
were forbidden to marry or to live in concubinage with slaves, and masters were 
not allowed to force their slaves into any marriage against their will; the children 
of a negro slave-husband and a negro free-wife were all free ; if the mother was 
a slave and the husband was free, the children shared the condition of the 

Slaves were forbidden to gather in crowds, by day or night, under any 
pretext, and if found assembled, were punished by the whip, or branded with 
the mark of the flower-de-luce, or executed. The slaves all wore marks or 
badges, and were not permitted to sell produce of any kind without the written 
consent of their masters. The protection- and security of slaves in old age was 
well provided for; Christian negroes were permitted burial in consecrated ground. 
The slave who produced a bruise, or the " shedding of blood in the face," on the 
person of his master, or any of the family to which he appertained, by striking 
them, was condemned to death ; and the runaway slave, when caught, after the 
first offence, had his ears cut off, and was branded ; after the second, was ham- 
strung and again branded ; after the third, was condemned to death. Slaves 
who had been set free were still bound to show the profoundest respect to their 
"former masters, their widows and children," under pain of severe penalties. 
Slave husbands and wives were not permitted to be seized and sold separately 
when belonging to the same master ; and whenever slaves were appointed 
tutors to their masters' children, they " were held and regarded as being thereby 
set free to all intents and purposes." 

The Choctaws and Chickasaws, neighbors to the colonists, were waging 
destructive war against each other; hurricanes regularly destroyed all the 
engineering works erected by the French Government at the mouths of the 
Mississippi ; and expeditions against the Natchez and the Chickasaws, arrivals 
of ships from France with loads of troops, provisions, and wives for the col- 
onists, the building of levees along the riv^er front near New Orleans, and the 


occasional deposition from and rc-instatemcnt in office of Bienville, were the chief 
events in those crude days of the beginning. 

I like to stand in these old Louisiana by-ways, and contemplate the 
progress of French civilization in them, now that it has been displaced by a 
newer one. I like to remember that New Orleans was named after the regent of 
France ; that the beautiful lake lying between the city and the Gulf was 
christened after the splendid Pontchartrain, him of the lean and hungry look, and 
of the " smile of death," him to whom the heart of Louis the Fourteenth was 
always open ; and that the other lake, near the city, was named in memory of 
Maurepas, the wily adviser of Louis the Sixteenth and unlucky. 

I like to remember that Louisiana itself owes its pretentious name to the 
devotion of its discoverer to the great monarch whom the joyous La Salle 
could not refrain from calling " the most puissant, most high, most invincible and 
victorious prince." I like to picture to myself AUoucz and Father Dablon, 
Marquette and JoHet, La Salle, Iberville, and Bienville, following in the footsteps 
of Garay and Leon, Cordova and Narvaez, De Vaca and Friar Mark ; and finally 
tracing and identifying the current of the wild, mysterious Mississippi, which had 
been but a tradition for ages, until every nook and cranny, from the Falls of St. 
Anthony to the Gulf of Mexico, re-echoed to French words of command and 
prayer, as well as to gayest of French chansons. 

Let us take another picture of New Orleans, from 1792 to 1797, thirty years 
after the King of France had bestowed upon " his cousin of Spain" the splendid 
gift of Louisiana, ceding it, " without any exception or reservation whatever, 
from the pure impulse of his generous heart." That a country should, by a 
simple stroke of the pen, strip herself of possessions extending from the mouth of 
the Mississippi to the St. Lawrence, is almost incomprehensible. 

France had perhaps already learned' that her people had not in their breasts 
that eternal hunger for travel, that feverish unrest, which has made the Anglo- 
Saxon the most successful of colonists, and has given half the world to him and 
to his descendants. But the French had nobly done the work of pioneering. 
Sauvolle, grimly defying death at Biloxi ; Bienville, urging the adventurous prow 
of his ship through the reeds at the Mississippi's mouth, are among the most 
heroic figures in the early history of the country. 

New Orleans from 1792 to 1797? Its civilization has changed; it is fitted 
into the iron groove of Spanish domination, and has become bigoted, narrow, 
and hostile to innovation. Along the streets, now lined with low, flat-roofed, 
balconied houses, out of ^vhose walls peep little hints of Moorish architec- 
ture, stalks the lean and haughty Spanish cavalier, with his hand upon his 
sword ; and the quavering voice of the night watchman, equipped Avith his 
traditional spear and lantern, is heard through the night hours proclaiming that 
all is "serene," although at each corner lurks a fugitive from justice, waiting 
only until the watchman has passed to commit new crime. Six thousand souls 
now inhabit the city , there are hints in the air of a plague, and the Intendant 
has written home to the Council of State that " some affirm that the yellow fever 
is to be feared." 


The priests and friars arc half-mad with despair because the mixed popula- 
tion pays so very little attention to its salvation from eternal damnation, and 
because the roystering officers and soldiers of the regiment of Louisiana admit 
that they have not been to mass for three years. The French hover about 
the few taverns and coffee-houses permitted in the city, and mutter rebellion 
against the Spaniard, whom they have always disliked. The Spanish and 
French schools are in perpetual collision ; so are the manners, customs, diets, 
and languages of the respective nations. The Ursuline convent has refused to 
admit Spanish women who desire to become nuns, unless they learn the 
French language ; and the ruling Governor, Baron Carondelet, has such small 
faith in the loyalty of the colonists that he has had the fortifications con- 
structed with a view not only to protecting himself against attacks from without, 
but from within. 

The city has suddenly taken on a wonderful aspect of barrack-yard and camp. 
On the side fronting the Mississippi are two small forts commanding the road and 
the river. On their strong and solid brick-coated parapets, Spanish sentinels 
are languidly pacing ; and cannon look out ominously over the walls. Between 
these two forts, and so arranged as to cross its fires with them, fronting on the 
main street of the town, is a great battery commanding the river. Then there 
are forts at each of the salient angles of the long square forming the city, and a 
third a little beyond them — all armed with eight guns each. From one of these 
tiny forts to another, noisy dragoons are always clattering; officers are parading 
to and fro ; government officials block the way ; and the whole town looks like a 
Spanish garrison gradually growing, by 
some mysterious process of transforma- 
tion, into a French city. 

Yet the Spanish civilization does not 
and can not take a strong hold there. 
Spain does not give to New Orleans 
so many lasting historic souvenirs as 
France. Barracks, petty forts, dragoon 
stables, and many other quaint build- 
ings finally disappear, leaving only the 
"Principal," next the Cathedral, its 
fellow on the other side of the old 
church, some aged private dwellings, 
rapidly decaying, and a delicate imprint 
and suggestion of former Spanish rule scattered throughout various quarters 
of the city. But Spanish society still lingers, and in some parts of the old 
town the many-balconied, thick-walled houses for the moment mislead the 
visitor into the belief that he is in Spain until he hears the French language,^ 
or the curious Creole patois everywhere about him. 

Let us take another look at the past of New Orleans. The Spaniard has 
gone his ways ; Ulloa and O'Reilly, Unzaga, Galvez, and Miro, have held their 
governorships under the Spanish King. Carondelet, Gayoso, Casa-Calvo, and 

"Some aged private dwellings, rapidly decaying." 



Salcedo alike have xanished. There h;i\e been insurrections on the part of 
the French; many longings after the old banner; and at last the government 

of France determines once more to pos- 
sess the grand territory. Spain well 
knows that it is useless to oppose this 
decision ; is not sorry, withal, to be rid 
of a colony so difficult to govern, and 
so near to the quarrelsome Americans, 
who have many times threatened to 
take New Orleans by force if any far- 
ther commercial regulations are made 
by Spaniards at the Mississippi's outlet. 
Napoleon the Great has three things 
to gain by the possession of the Ter- 
ritory : the command of the Gulf; the 

A brace of old Spanish Governors.— From portraits owned 
by Hon. Charles Gayarni, of New Orleans. 

supply of the islands owned by France ; and a place of settlement for sur- 
plus population. So that, at St. Ildefonso, on the morning of October first, 
1800, a treaty of cession is signed by Spain, its third article reading as fol- 
lows : " His Catholic Majesty promises and engages, on his part, to retrocede 
to the French Republic, six months after the full and entire execution of the 
conditions and stipulations herein relative to His Royal Highness the Duke 
of Parma — the colony or province of Louisiana, with the same extent that it now 
has in the hands of Spain, and that it had when France possessed it ; and such as 
it should be after the treaties subsequently entered into between Spain and other 
states. ' ' 

This treaty is kept secret while the French fit out an expedition to sail and 
take sudden possession of the reacquired Territory ; but the United States has 
sharp ears ; and Minister Livingston besets the cabinet of the First Consul 
at Paris ; fights a good battle of diplomacy ; is dignified as well as aggressive ; 
wins his cause; and Napoleon tells his counselors, on Easter Sunday, 1803, his 
resolve in the following words : " I know the full value of Louisiana, and I have 
been desirous of repairing the fault of the French negotiator who abandoned it 
in 1763; a few lines of a treaty have restored it to me, and I have scarcely 
recovered it when I must expect to lose it. But if it escapes from me, it shall 
one day cost dearer to those who oblige me to strip myself of it than to those to 
whom I wish to deliver it." And it is forthwith ceded to the United States, in 
1803, on the "tenth day of Floreal, in the eleventh year of the French republic," 
in consideration of the payment by our government of sixty millions of francs. 

Half a generation brings the conflicting national elements into something like 
harmony, and makes Louisiana a territory containing fifty thousand souls. The 
first steamboat ploughs through the waters of the Mississippi, but more stirring 
events also take place. In 1812 Congress declares that war exists between 
Great Britain and the United States, and eatly in 1 8 1 5 General Andrew Jackson 
wins a decisive victory over the English arms, on the lowlands near New 
Orleans. Fifteen thousand skilled British soldiers are beaten off and sent home 



in disorder by the raw troops of the river States, by the stalwart Kentuckians, 
the hunters of Tennessee, the rough, hard-handed sons of Illinois, the dashing 
horsemen of Mississippi, and the handsome and athletic Creoles of Louisiana. 
When the victorious Americans return to New Orleans, a grand parade is 
held in the square henceforth to commemorate the name of Jackson, and where 

' And V. here to day stands a fiuL 

Matue of the great General. 

to-day stands a fine equestrian statue of the great general. In front of old 
Almonaster's cathedral the troops are drawn up in order of review. Under a 
triumphal arch, from which glittering lines of bayonets stretch to the river, 
General Jackson, the hero of the Chalmette battle-field, passes, and bows low 
his laurel-crowned head to receive the apostolic benediction of the venerable 



LET me show you some pictures from the New Orleans of to-day. The night- 
mare of civil war has passed away, leaving the memory of visions which 
it is not my province — certainly not my wish — to renew. The Crescent 
City has grown so that Claiborne and Jackson could no longer recognize it. 
It was gaining immensely in wealth and population until the social and 
political revolutions following the war came with their terrible, crushing weight, 
and the work of re-establishing the commerce of the State has gone on under 
conditions most disheartening and depressing ; though trial seems to have 
brought out a reserve of energy of which its possessors had never suspected 
themselves capable. 

Step off from Canal street, that avenue of compromises which separates the 
French and the American quarters, some bright February morning, and you 
will at once find yourself in a foreign atmosphere. A walk into the French 
section enchants you ; the characteristics of an American city vanish ; this might 
be Toulouse, or Bordeaux, or Marseilles ! The houses are all of stone or brick, 
stuccoed or painted; the windows of each story descend to the floors, opening, 
like doors, upon airy, pretty balconies, protected by iron railings; quaint 
dormer windows peer from the great roofs; the street doors are massive, and 
large enough to admit carriages into the stone-paved court-yards, from which 
stairways communicate with the upper apartments. 

Sometimes, through a portal opened by a slender, dark- haired, bright-eyed 
Creole girl in black, you catch a glimpse of a garden, delicious with daintiest 
blossoms, purple and red and white gleaming from vines clambering along a gray 
wall ; rose-bushes, with the grass about them strewn with petals ; bosquets, 
green and symmetrical ; luxuriant hedges, arbors, and refuges, trimmed by 
skillful hands ; banks of verbenas ; bewitching profusion of peach and apple 
blossoms ; the dark green of the magnolia ; in a quiet corner, the rich glow of 
the orange in its nest among the thick leaves of its parent tree ; the palmetto, 
the catalpa; — a mass of bloom which laps the senses in slumbrous delight. 
Suddenly the door closes, and your paradise is lost, while Eve remains inside 
the gate ! 

From the balconies hang, idly flapping in the breeze, little painted tin 
placards, announcing " Furnished apartments to rent !" Alas ! in too many of 
the old mansions you are ushered by a gray-faced woman clad in deepest 
black, with little children clinging jealously to her skirts, and you instinctively 


note by her manners and her speech that she did not rent rooms before the 
war. You pity her, and think of the multitudes of these gray-faced women ; 
of the numbers of these silent, almost desolate houses. 

Now and then, too, a knock at the porter's lodge will bring to your view a 
bustling Creole dame, fat and iifty, redolent of garlic and new wine, and robust 
in voice as in person. How cheerily she retails her misfortunes, as if they were 
blessings! "An invalid husband — voyez-voics fa! Auguste a Confederate, 
of course — and is yet; but \hQ pauvre garfon is unable to work, and we are very 
poor !" All this merrily, and in high key, while the young negress — the 
housemaid — stands lazily listening to her mistress's French, nervously polishing 
with her huge lips the handle of the broom she holds in her broad, corded 

Business here, as in foreign cities, has usurped only half the domain; the 
shopkeepers live over their shops, and communicate to their commerce somewhat 
of the aroma of home. The dainty salon, where the ladies' hairdresser holds 
sway, has its doorway enlivened by the baby ; the grocer and his wife, the 
milliner and his daughter, are behind the counters in their respective shops. 
Here you pass a little cafe, with the awning drawn down, and, peering in, 
can distinguish half-a-dozen bald, rotund old boys drinking their evening 
absinthe, and playing picquet and vingt-et-un, exactly as in France. 

Here, perhaps, is a touch of Americanism: a 
lazy negro, recumbent in a cart, with his eyes 
languidly closed, and one dirty foot sprawled on the 
sidewalk. No ! even he responds to your question in 
French, which he speaks poorly though fluently. French 
signs abound ; there is a warehouse for wines and 
brandies from the heart of Southern France ; here is a 
funeral notice, printed in deepest black : " The friends 
of Jean Baptiste," etc., "are respectfully invited to be 
present at the funeral, which will take place at pre- 
cisely four o'clock, on the ." The notice is "A lazy negro, recumbent ma cart." 

on black-edged note-paper, nailed to a post. Here pass a group of French 
negroes, the buxom girls dressed with a certain grace, and with gayly-colored 
handkerchiefs wound about an unpardonable luxuriance of wool. Their cavaliers 
are clothed mainly in antiquated garments rapidly approaching the level of rags ; 
and their patois resounds for half-a-dozen blocks. 

Turning into a side street leading ofif from Royal, or Chartres, or Bourgogne, 
or Dauphin, or Rampart streets, you come upon an odd little shop, where the 
cobbler sits at his work in the shadow of a grand old Spanish arch; or upon a 
nest of curly-headed negro babies ensconced on a tailor's bench at the window 
of a fine ancient mansion ; or you look into a narrow room, glass- fronted, and 
see a long and well-spread table, surrounded by twenty Frenchmen and French- 
women, all talking at once over their eleven o'clock breakfast. 

Or you may enter aristocratic restaurants, where the immaculate floors 
are only surpassed in cleanliness by the spotless linen of the tables ; where a 



solemn dignity, as befits the refined pleasure of dinner, prevails, and where 
the waiter gives you the names of the dishes in both languages, and bestows on 
you a napkin large enough to serve you as a shroud, if this strange melange of 
French and Southern cookery should give you a fatal indigestion. The French 
families of position usually dine at four, as the theatre begins promptly at seven, 
both on Sundays and week days. There is the play-bill, in I'Vcnch, of course ; 
and there are the typical Creole ladies, stopping for a moment to glance at it as 
they wend their way shopward. For it is the shopping hour ; from eleven to 
two the streets of the old quarter are alive with elegantly, yet soberly attired 
ladies, always in couples, as French etiquette exacts that the unmarried lady shall 
never promenade without her maid or her mother. 

One sees beautiful laces on the Rue Royale (Royal street), and in the 
balconies and lodges of the Opera House ; sometimes, too, in the cool of the 
evening, there are fascinating little groups of the daughters of Creoles on the 
balconies, gayly chatting while the veil of the twilight is torn away, and 
the glory of the Southern moonlight is showered over the quiet streets. 

The Creole ladies are not, as a rule, so highly educated as the gracious 
daughters of the "American quarter;" but they have an indefinable grace, a 
savoir in dress, and a piquant and alluring charm in person and conversation, 
which makes them universal favorites in society. 

One of the chiefest of their attractions is the staccato and queerly-colored 
English, really French in idea and accent, which many of them speak. At 
the Saturday matinees, in the opera or comedy season at the French Theatre, 
you will see hundreds of the ladies of "the quarter;" and rarely can a finer 

grouping of lov^ely brunettes be found ; 
nowhere a more tastefully - dressed and 
elegantly - mannered assembly. 

The quiet which has reigned in the old 
French section since the war ended is, per- 
haps, abnormal ; but it would be difficult to 
find village streets more tranquil than are the 
main avenues of this foreign quarter after 
nine at night. The long, splendid stretches 
of Rampart and Esplanade streets, with their 
rows of trees planted in the centre of the 
driveways, — the whitewashed trunks giving 
a fine effect of green and white, — are peace- 
ful ; the negro nurses stroll on the sidewalks, 
chattering in quaint French to the little 
children of their former masters — now their 
" employers." 

There is no attempt on the part of the 
French or Spanish families to inaugurate 
style and fashion in the city; quiet home 
society, match-making and marrying of 


"The negro nurses stroll on the sidewalks, chattenng 
in quaint French to the little children." 



daughters, games and dinner parties, church, shopping, and calls in simple and 
unaffected manner, content them. 

The majority of the people in the whole quarter seem to have a total disregard 
of the outside world, and when one hears them discussing the distracted condition 
of local politics, one can almost fancy them gossiping on matters entirely foreign 
to them, instead of on those vitally connected with their lives and property. 
They live very much among themselves. French by nature and training, they get 
but a faint reflection of the excitements in these United States. It is also aston- 
ishing to see how little the ordinary American citizen of New Orleans knows of 
his French neighbors; how ill he ap- 
preciates them. It is hard for him to 
talk five minutes about them without 
saying, "Well, we have a non- progres- 
sive element here ; it will not be con- 
verted." Having said which, he will 
perhaps paint in glowing colors the vir- 
tues and excellences of his French 
neighbors, though he cannot forgive 
them for taking so little interest in 
public affairs. 

Here we are again at the Arch- 
bishop's Palace, once the home of the 
Ursuline nuns, who now have, further 
down the river, a splendid new convent 
and school, surrounded by beautiful 
gardens. This ancient edifice was com- 
pleted by the French Government in 
1733, and is the oldest in Louisiana. 
Its Tuscan- composite architecture, its 
porter's lodge, and its interior garden '"^he interior garden, with its curious shrine." 

with its curious shrine, make it well worth preserving, even when the tide of 
progress shall have reached this nook on Conde street. The Ursuline nuns 
occupied this site for nearly a century, and it was abandoned by them only 
because they were tempted, by the great rise in real estate in that vicinity, to 
sell. The new convent is richly endowed, and is one of the best seminaries in 
the South. 

Many of the owners of property in the vicinity of the Archbishop s Palace 
have removed to France, since the war, — doing nothing for the benefit of the 
metropoUs which gave them their fortunes. The rent of these solidly-con- 
structed old houses once brought them a sum w'hich, when translated from 
dollars into francs, was colossal, and which the Parisian tradesmen tucked away 
into their strong boxes. Now they get almost nothing ; the houses are mainly 
vacant. With the downfall of slavery, and the advent of reconstruction, came 
such radical changes in Louisiana politics and society that those belonging 
to the ancien regime who could flee, fled ; and a prominent historian and gen- 



tleman of most honorable Creole descent told nie that, among his immense 
acquaintance, he did not know a single person who would not leave the State 
if means were at hand. 

The grooves in which society in Louisiana and New Orleans had run before 

the late struggle 
were so broken 
that even a resi- 
dence in the State 
was distasteful to 
him and the so- 
ciety he represent- 
ed ; since the late 
war, he said, 500 
years seemed to 
have passed over 
the common- 
wealth. The Italy of Augustus was not more dissimilar to the Italy of to-day 
than is the Louisiana of to-day to the Louisiana before the war. There was no 
longer the spirit to maintain the grand, unbounded hospitality once so charac- 
teristic of the South. Formerly, the guest would have been presented to 
planters who would have entertained him for days, in royal style, and who 
would have sent him forward in their own carriages, commended to the hos- 
pitality of their neighbors. Now these same planters were living upon corn 
and pork. "Most of these people," said the gentleman, "have vanished from 
their homes; and I actually know ladies of culture and refinement, whose incomes 
were gigantic before the war, who are 'washing' for their daily bread. The 
misery, the despair, in hundreds of cases, are beyond belief" 

"Many lovely plantations," said he, "are entirely deserted; the negroes 
will not remain upon them, but flock into the cities, or work on land which they 
have purchased for themselves." He would not believe that the free negro did 
as much work for himself as he formerly did for his master. He considered the 
labor system at the present time terribly onerous for planters. The negroes 
were only profitable as field hands when they worked on shares, the planters 
furnishing them land, tools, horses, mules, and advancing them food. He said 
that he would not himself hire a negro even at small wages; he did not believe 
it would be profitable. The discouragement of the natives of Louisiana, he 
believed, arose in large degree from the difficulty of obtaining capital with which 
to begin anew. He knew instances where only $10,000 or $20,000 were needed 
for the improvement of water power, or of lands which would net hundreds of 
thousands. He had himself written repeatedly, urging people at the North »1:o 
invest, but they would not, and alleged that they should not alter their deter- 
mination so long as the present political condition prevailed. 

He added, with great emphasis, that he did not think the people of the North 
would believe a statement which should give a faithful transcript of the present 
condition of afiairs in Louisiana. The natives of the State could hardly 


realize it themselves ; and it was not to be expected that strangers, of differ- 
ing habits of life and thought, should do it. He did not blame the negro for 
his present incapacity, as he considered the black man an inferior being, 
peculiarly unfitted by ages of special training for what he was now called 
upon to undertake. The negro was, he thought, by nature, kindly, gen- 
erous, courteous, susceptible of civilization only to a certain degree ; devoid 
of moral consciousness, and usually, of course, ignorant. Not one out of a 
hundred, the whole State through, could write his name; and there had been 
fifty-five in one single Legislature who could neither read nor write. There was, 
according to him, scarcely a single man of color in the last Legislature who was 
competent in any large degree. 

The Louisiana white people were in such terror of the negro government that 
they would rather accept any other despotism. A military dictator would be 
far preferable to them ; they would go anywhere to escape the ignominy to 
which they were at present subjected. The crisis was demoralizing every one. 
Nobody worked with a will; every one was in debt. There was not a single 
piece of property in the city of New Orleans in which he would at present 
invest, although one could now buy for $5,000 or $10,000 property originally 
worth $50,000. He said it would not pay to purchase, the taxes were so 
enormous. The majority of the great plantations had been deserted on account 
of the excessive taxation. Only those familiar with the real causes of the 
despair could imagine how deep it was. 

Benefit by immigration, he maintained, was impossible under the present 
regime. New-comers mingled in the distracted politics in such a manner as to 
neglect the development of the country. Thousands of the citizens were fleeing 
to Texas (and I could vouch for the correctness of that assertion). He said 
that the mass of immigrants became easily discouraged and broken down, 
because they began by working harder than the climate would permit. 

\\\ some instances, Germans on coming into the State had been ordered 
by organizations both of white and colored native workmen not to labor so 
much daily, as they were setting a dangerous example ! Still, he believed 
that almost any white man would do as much work as three negroes. He 
hardly thought that in fifty years there would be any negroes in Louisiana. 
The race was rapidly diminishing. Planters who had owned three or four hun- 
dred slaves before the war, had kept a record of their movements, and found 
that more than half of them had died of want and neglect. The negroes did 
not know how to care for themselves. The women now on the same plantations 
where they had been owned as slaves gave birth to only one child where they 
had previously borne three. They would not bear children as of old; the negro 
population was rapidly decreasing. Gardening, he said, had proved an un- 
profitable experiment, because of the thievish propensities of the negro. All 
the potatoes, turnips, and cabbages consumed by the white people of New 
Orleans came from the West. 

Such was the testimony of one who, although bv no means unfair or bitterly 
partisan, perhaps allowed his discouragement to color all his views. He frankly 

34 Di scoi; R A(; K M i: N'l .\\u dksi'aik. 

accepted the results of the war, so far as the aboHtion of slavery and the 
consequent ruin of his own and thousands of other fortunes were concerned ; he 
has, indeed, borne with all the evils which have arisen out of reconstruction, 
without murmurint,^ until now, when he and thousands of his fellows are pushed 
to the wall. I ie is the representative of a very lar<(e class ; the discouragement 
is no tlream. It is written on the faces of the citizens; you may read and 
realize it there. 

Ah! these faces, these faces; — expressing deeper pain, profounder discontent 
than were caused by the iron fate of the few years of the war ! One sees them 
everywhere ; on the street, at the theatre, in the salon, in the cars ; and pauses 
for a moment, struck with the expression of entire despair — of complete helpless- 
ness, which has possessed their features. Sometimes the owners of the faces are 
one-armed and otherwise crippled ; sometimes they bear no wounds or marks 
ot wounds, and are in the prime and fullness of life ; but the look is there still. 
Now and then it is controlled by a noble will, the pain of which it tells having 
been trampled under the feet of a great energy ; but it is always there. The 
struggle is over, peace has been declared, but a generation has been doomed. 
The past has given to the future the dower of the present ; there seems only a 
dead level of uninspiring struggle for those going out, and but small hope 
for those coming in. That is what the faces say ; that is the burden of their 

These are not of the loud- mouthed and bitter opponents of everything tend- 
ing to reconsolidate the Union ; these are not they who will tell you that some 
day the South will be united once more, and will rise in strength and strike a 
blow for freedom ; but they are the payers of the price. The look is on the 
faces of the men who wore the swords of generals who led in disastrous 
measures ; on the faces of women who have lost husbands, children, lovers, 
fortunes, homes, and comfort for evermore. The look is on the faces of the 
strong fighters, thinkers, and controllers of the Southern mind and heart ; and 
here in Louisiana it will not brighten, because the wearers know that the 
great evils of disorganized labor, impoverished society, scattered families, race 
legislation, retributive tyranny and terrorism, with the power, like Nemesis of 
old, to wither and blast, leave no hope for this generation. Heaven have 
mercy on them ! Their fate is too utterly inevitable not to command the 
strongest sympathy. 

Of course, in the French quarter, there are multitudes of negroes who speak 
both French and English in the quaintest, most outlandish fashion; eliding whole 
syllables which seem necessary to sense, and breaking into extravagant excla- 
mations on the slightest pretext. The French of the negroes is very much like 
that of young children; spoken far from plainly, but with a pretty grace 
which accords poorly with the exteriors of the speakers. The negro women, 
young and old, wander about the streets bareheaded and barearmed; now tug- 
ging their mistresses' children, now carrying huge baskets on their heads, and 
walking under their heavy burdens with the gravity of queens. Now and 
then one sees a mulatto girl hardly less fair than the brown maid he saw 


at Sorrento, or in the vine-covered cottage at tlie little mountain town near 
Rome ; now a giant matron, black as the tempest, and with features as pro- 
nounced in savagery as any of her Congo ancestors. 

But the negroes, taken as a whole, seem somewhat shuffling and disor- 
ganized; and apart from the statuesque old house and bod\' servants, who appear 
to have caught some dignity from their masters, they are L>y no means inviting. 
They gather in groups at the street corners just at nightfall, and while they 
chatter like monkeys, even about politics, they gesticulate xiolently.. They 
live without much work, for their wants are \c\v ; and two days' labor in a 
week, added to the fat roosters and turkeys that zui// walk into their clutches, 
keeps them in bed and board. They find ample amusement in the " heat o' the 
sun," the passers-by, and tobacco. There are families of color noticeable for 

"And while they chatter hke monkeys, even about pohtics, they gesticulate violently.'' 

intelligence and accomplishments , but, as a rule, the negro ot the French 
quarter is thick-headed, light-hearted, improvident, and not too conscientious. 

Perhaps one of the most patent proofs of the poverty now so bitterly felt 
among the hitherto well-to-do families in New Orleans was apparent in the 
suspension of the opera in the winter of 1873. Heretofore the Crescent City has 
rejoiced in brilliant seasons, both the French and Americans uniting in sub- 
scriptions sufficient to bring to them artists of unrivaled talent and culture. 
But opera entailed too heavy an expense, when the people who usually supported 
it were prostrate under the hands of plunderers, and a comedy company from 
the Paris theatres took its place upon the lyric stage. The French Opera House 
is a handsomely arranged building of modern construction, at tli-: corner of 
Bourbon and Toulouse streets. The interior is elegantly decorated, and now 
during the season of six months the sa//e is nightly visited by hundreds of the 
subscribers, who take tickets for the whole season, and by the city's floating 
population. Between each act of the pieces all the men in the theatre rise, stalk 


T H !•; O I' I'. K A IN N I: W OKI. I', A N S . 

out, puff ci<^arottcs, and sip iced raspberry- water aiul absinthe in the cafes, 
returnin«;- in a long procession just as the curtain rises again; while the ladies 
receive the visits of friends in the /o^is or in the private boxes, which they 
often occupy four evenings in the week. The New Orleans public, both French 
and American, possesses excellent theatrical taste, and is severely critical, especi- 
ally in opera. It is difficult to find a Creole family of any pretensions in which 
music is not cultivated in large degree. 

People in the French quarter very generall)' speak both prevailing languages, 
while the majority of the American residents do not affect the French. The 
Gallic children all speak English, and in the street-plays of. the boys, as in their 
conversation, T^rench and English idioms are strangely mingled. American 
boys call birds, fishes and animals by corrupted French names, handed down 
through seventy years of perversion, and a dreadful threat on the part of Young 
America is, that he will "mallerroo" you, which seems to hint that our old French 
friend uialhcurciix, "unhapp)-," has, with other words, undergone corruption. 
When an American boy wishes his comrade to make his kite fly higher, he says, 
pojissc:: ! just as the French boy does, and so on adinfinitiiin. 

Any stranger who remains in the F'rench quarter over Sunday will be amazed 
at the great number of funeral processions. It would seem, indeed, as if death 
came uniformly near the end of the week in order that people might be 
laid away on the Sabbath. The cemeteries, old and new, rich and poor, 
are scattered throughout the cit}-, and most of them present an extremely 
beautiful appearance — the white tombs nestling among the dark-green foliage. 

It would be difficult to dig a gra\"c of the ordinary depth in the " Louisiana 

Imvlands" without coming to water; 

and, consequently, burials in sealed 
tombs above ground are universal. 
The old French and Spanish cemete- 
ries present long streets of cemented 
walls, with apertures into which once 
were thrust the noble and good of the 
land, as if they were put into ovens, 
to be baked ; and one may still read 
queer inscriptions, dated away back in 
the middle of the eighteenth century. 
Great numbers of the monuments both 
in the old and new cemeteries are very 
imposing; and, one sees every day, as 
in all Catholic communities, long pro- 
cessions of mourning relatives carrying 
flowers to place on the spot where 
their loved and lost are entombed ; 
or catches a glimpse of some black- 
robed figure sitting laotionless before 
a tomb. The St. Louis Cemetery is 

"The old French and Spanish cemeteries present long 
.streets of cemented walls." 



fine, and many dead arc even better housed in it than they were in hfe. The 
St. Patrick, Cypress Grove, Firemen's, Odd hY-llows, and Jewish cemeteries, 
in the American quarter, are filled with richly-wrought tombs, and trav- 
ersed by fine, tree-planted avenues. 

The St. Louis Hotel is one of the most imposing monuments of the French 
quarter, as well as one of the finest hotels in the United States. It was 
originally built to combine a city exchange, hotel, bank, ball-rooms, and private 
stores. The rotunda, metamorphosed into a dining-hall, is one of the most beau- 
tiful in this country, and the great inner 
circle of the dome is richly frescoed with ' ^ 

allegorical scenes and busts of eminent ->.&-• 

Americans, from the pencils of Canova 
and Pinoli. The immense ball-room 
is also superbly decorated. The St. 
Louis Hotel was very nearly destroyed 
by fire in 1840, but in less than two 
years was restored to its original splen- 
dor. On the eastern and western sides 
of Jackson Square are the Pontalba 
buildings, large and not especially 
handsome brick structures, erected by 
the Countess Pontalba, many years 
ago. Chartres street, and all the -' _ " —-' -^-" 

avenues contributing to it, are thor- The St. Louis Holcl — New Orleans. 

oughly French in character ; cafes, wholesale stores, pharmacies, shops for 
articles of luxury, all bear evidence of Gallic taste. 

Every street in the old city has its legend, either humorous or tragical ; and 
each building which confesses to an hundred years has memories of foreign 
domination hovering about it. The elder families speak with bated breath and 
touching pride of their " ancestor who came with Bienville," or with such 
and such Spanish Governors; and many a name among those of the Creoles 
has descended untarnished to its present possessors through centuries of valor 
and adventurous achievement. 



C><ARNIVAL keeps its hold upon the i)cople along the Gulf shore, despite 
A the troubles, vexations, and sacrifices to which they have been forced 
to submit since the social revolution began. White and black join in its 

The Carnival— White and Black join in its masquerading " 

masquerading, and the Crescent City rivals Naples in the beauty and richness 
of its displays. Galveston has caught the infection, and every year the Kmg of 
the Carnival adds a city to the domain loyal to him. The saturnalia practiced 

O R I ( ; I N OF l' H !■; CAR N MAI,. 39 

before the entry into Lent arc the least bit practical, because Americans find it 
impossible to lay aside business utterly even on Mardi-Gras. The device of 
the advertiser pokes its ugly face into the very heart of the masquerade, and 
brings base reality, whose hideous features, outlined under his domino, put a 
host of sweet illusions to flight. 

The Carnival in New Orleans was organized in 1827, when a number of 
young Creole gentlemen, who had recently returned from Paris, formed a street- 
procession of maskers. It did not create a profound sensation — was considered 
the work of mad wags; and the festival languished until 1837, when there was a 
fine parade, which was succeeded by another still finer in 1839. From two o'clock 
in the afternoon until sunset of Shrove Tuesday, drum and fife, valve and 
trumpet, rang in the streets, and hundreds of maskers cut furious antics, and 
made day hideous. Thereafter, from 1840 to 1852, Mardi-Gras festival had 
varying popularity — such of the townspeople as had the money to spend now 
and then organizing a very fantastic and richly-dressed rout of mummers. At 
the old Orleans Theatre, balls of princely splendor were given ; Europeans even 
came to join in the New World's Carnival, and wrofe home enthusiastic accounts 
of it. In 1857 the " Mistick Krewe of Comus," a private organization of New 
Orleans gentlemen, made their debut, and gave to the festivities a lustre which, 
thanks to their continued eftbrts, has never since quitted it. In 1857 ^'^^ 
"Krewe" appeared in the guise of supernatural and mythological characters, 
and flooded the town with gods and demons, winding up the occasion with 
a grand ball at the Gaiety Theatre ; previous to which they appeared in 
tableaux representing the "Tartarus" of the ancients, and Milton's "Paradise 
Lost." In 1858 this brilliant coterie of maskers renewed the enchantments of 
Mardi-Gras, by exhibiting the gods and goddesses of high Olympus and of the 
fretful sea, and again gave a series of brilliant tableaux. In 1859 they pictured 
the revels of the four great English holidays, May Day, Midsummer Eve, 
Christmas and Twelfth Night. In i860 they illustrated American history in a 
series of superb groups of living statues mounted on moving pedestals. In 1 86 1 
they delighted the public with "Scenes from Life" — Childhood, Youth. Man- 
hood and Old Age ; and the ball at the Varieties Theatre was preceded b}' a 
series of grandiose tableaux which exceeded all former efforts. Then came the 
war; maskers threw aside their masks; but, in 1866, after the agony of the long 
* struggle, Comus once more assembled his forces, and the transformations which 
Milton attributed to the sly spirit himself were the subject of the display. The 
wondering gazers were shown how Comus, 

'■ Deep-skilled in all his mother's witcheries. 
By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 
With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison 
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, 
And the inglorious likeness of a beast 
Fixes instead." 

In 1867 Comus became Epicurean, and blossomed into a walking bill of 
fare, the maskers representing everything in the various courses and entrees of a 


IHi; KkKWK (}V COM vs. 

gourmand's dinner, from oysters and sherry to the oviclcttc brftlcc, the Kirsch and 
Cura(;:oa. A long and stately array of bottles, dishes of meats and vegetables, 
and desserts, moved through the streets, awakening saturnalian laug)iter 
wherever it passed. In 1868 the Krcuc presented a procession and tableaux 
from " Lalla Rookh ;" in 1869, the " Imvc Senses;" and in 1 870, the "History 
of Louisaina;" when old Father Mississippi himself, l)e Soto and his fellow-dis- 
coverers, the soldiers, adventurers, cavaliers, Jesuits, I'Vench, Spanish, and 
American Governors, were all paraded before the amazed populace. In 1871, 
King Comus and his train presented picturesque groupings from Spenser's 
" Faery Oueene;" in 1872, from Homer's "Tale of Troy;" and in 1873 detailed 
the " Darwinian Development of the Species" from earliest beginnings to the 
gorilla, and thence to man. The Krewe of Comus has always paid the expenses 
of these displays itself, and has issued invitations only to as many people as 
could be accommodated \\'ithin the walls of the theatre to witness the tableaux. 
It is composed of one hundred members, who arc severally sworn to conceal 
their identity from all outsiders, and who have thus far succeeded admirabl)" in 
accomplishing this object. The designs for their masks are made in New 
Orleans, and the costumes are manufactured from them in Paris yearly. In 
1870 appeared the " Twelfth- Night Revelers" — who yearly celebrate the beauti- 
ful anniversary of the visit of the wise men of the East to the manger of the 
Infant Saviour. In 1870 the pageants of this organization were inaugurated by 

'The coming of Rex, most pubsant King of Carnival." [Page 41. J 



"The Lord of Misrule ;ir.d his Knij^hts;" in iHji, " Motlier Goose's Tea Party" 
was given; in 1872, a group of creations of artists and poets and visionaries, 
from lean Don Quixote to fat Falstaff, followed; and in 1873 the birds were 
represented, in a host of fantastic and varied tableaux. 

Another feature has been added to the festivities, one which promises in time 
to be most attractive of all. It is the coming of Rex, most puissant King of 


"The Boeuf-Gras — th^ fat ox — is led in the procession." [Page 42. J 

Carnival. This amiable dignitary, depicted as a venerable man, with snow-white 
hair and beard, but still robust and v.-arrior-like, made his first appearance on the 
Mississippi shores in 1872, and issued his proclamations through newspapers and 
upon placards, commanding all civil and military authorities to show subservience 
to him during his sta\' in " our good ciU^ of New Orleans." Therefore, yearly, 
when the date of the recurrence of Mardi-Gras has been fixed, the m)-stic King 
issues his proclamation, and is announced as having arrived at New \ ork, or 
whatever other port seemeth good. At once thereafter, and daily, the papers 
teem with reports of his progress through the country, interspersed wjth anec- 
dotes of his heroic career, which is supposed to have lasted for many centuries. 
The court report is usually conceived somewhat in the style of the following 
paragraph, supposed, to be an anecdote told at the "palace" l^y an "old gray- 
headed sentinel :" 

" Another incident, illustrating the King's courageous presence of mind, was 
related by the veteran. While sojourning at Auch (this was several centuries 
ago), a wing of die palace took fire, the whole staircase was in flames, and in the 
highest story was a feeble old woman, apparently cut off from any means of 
escape. His Majesty offered two thousand francs to any one who would save 


T H K K I'. C; K I' 1 I « ) N 1' A l< A I ) K . 

her from dcstructitJii, l)ul no one pre- 
sented himself. The Kinj^- did not slop 
to deliberate ; he \vraj)ped liis robes 
closely about him, called for a wet cloth 
— which he threw asiile — then rushed 
to his carriaci^e, and dro\e rapidly to the 
theatre, where he passed the evening" 
listening to the singing of ' If ever 1 
cease to love.' " 

This is published seriously in the 
journals, next to the news and editorial 
paragraphs; and yearly, at one o'clock 
on the appointed day, the King, ac- 
companied by Wanvick, Earl- Marshal 

pimnimTWT-i — ' 

'When Rex and his 

of the Empire, and by the 
Lord High Admiral, who is 
always depicted as suffering 
untold pangs from gout, ar- 
rives on Canal street, sur- 
rounded by troops of horse 
and foot, fantastically dressed, 
and followed by hundreds of 
masker.s. Sometimes he 
comes up the river in a 
beautiful barge and lands 
amid thunderous salutes from 
the shipping at the wharves. 
This parade, which is grad- 
ually becoming one of the 
important features of the Car- 
nival, is continued through 
all the orincipal streets of the 
city. The Boeuf-Gras — the 

tram enter the queer old streets, the balconies are crowded -- . . • J^^^ jj^ ^Y\q prOCeS*- 

wlth spectatrri." [Page43.1 '"'- ^"^ r^ 

TH I, I! (K V V (;K A S 

■ r A k N I \' A I , 


sion. The animal is I4a>-1)- decorated with flovvors and L^arland.;. Mounted on 
pedestals extemporized from cotton-floats are dozens of alle^forical <^roups, and 
the masks, although not so rich and costly as those of Comus and his crew, are 
quite as varied and mirth-provokin<^. The costumes of the King and his suite 
are gorgeous; and the troops of the United States, disguised as privates of 
Arabian artillery and as Egyptian spahis, do escort-duty to his Majesty. Rumor 
hath it, even, that on one occasion, the ladies of New Orleans presented a flag ta 
an officer of the troops of "King Rex" fsn), little suspecting that it was there- 
after to grace the Federal barracks. Thus the Carnival has its pleasant 
waggeries and surprises. 

Froissart thought the luiglish amused themselves sadl\' ; and indeed, com- 
paring the Carnival in Louisiana with the Carnival in reckless Italy, one might 
say that the Americans masquerade grimly. There is but little of that wild 
luxuriance of fun in the streets of New Orleans which has made Italian 
cities so famous ; people go to their sports with an air ot' pride, but not of 
all-pervading enjoyment. In the French quarter, when Rex and his train enter 
the queer old streets, there are shoutings, chaffings, and dancings , the children 
chant little couplets on Mardi-Gras; and the balconies are crowded with spec- 
tators. But the negroes make a somewhat sorry show in the masking : their 
every-day garb is more picturesque. 

Carnival culminates at night, after Rex and the "day procession" have retired. 



" The joyous, iTrotesqiie maskers appear upon the ball-room floor." [Page 44.) 


Thousands of people assemble in dense lines along the streets included in the 
published route of march ; Canal street is brilliant with illumination, and swarms 
of persons occupy every porch, balcony, house-top, pedestal, carriage and mule- 
car. Then comes the train of Com us, and torch-bearers, disguised in oiitrc 
masks, light up the way. After the round through the great city is completed, 
the reflection of the torch-light on the sky dies away, and the Krewe betake 
themselves to the Varieties Theatre, and present tableaux before the ball opens. 

This theatre, during the hour or two preceding the Mardi-Gras ball, offers 
one of the loveliest sights in Christendom. From floor to ceiling, the 
parquet, dress-circle and galleries are one mass of dazzling toilets, none but 
ladies being given scats. White robes, delicate faces, dark, flashing eyes, 
luxuriant folds of glossy hair, tiny, faultlessly-gloved hands, — such is the vision 
that one sees through his opera-glass. 

Delicious music swells softly on the perfumed air ; the tableaux wax and 
wane like kaleidoscopic effects, when suddenly the curtain rises, and the joyous, 
grotesque miskers appear upon the ball-room floor. They dance ; gradually 
ladies and their cavaliers leave all parts of the galleries, and come to join them ; 
and then, 

"No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet, 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet." 

Meantime, the King of the Carnival holds a levee and dancing party at 
another place ; all the theatres and public halls are delivered up to the vota- 
ries of Terpsichore ; and the fearless, who are willing to usher in Lent with 
sleepless eyes, stroll home in the glare of the splendid Southern sunrise, }'early 
vowing that each Mardi-Gras has surpassed its predecessor. 

Business in New Orleans is not only entirely suspended on Shrove Tuesday 
(Mardi-Gras), but the Carnival authorities have absolute control of the city. 
They direct the police ; they arrest the mayor, and he delivers to them the keys, 
while the chief functionaries of the city government declare their allegiance 
to "Rex;" addresses arc delivered, and the processions move. The theatres 
are thrown open to the public, and woe betide the unhappy manager who 
dares refuse the order of the King to this effect. On one occasion a well- 
known actor arrived in the city during the festivities to fulfill an engagement, 
but as the managers of the theatre at which he was to act had refused 
to honor the King's command for free admission to all, the actor was at once 
arrested, taken to the "den" of the Earl- Marshal, and there kept a close 
prisoner until a messenger arrived to say that the recalcitrant manager had 
at last "acknowledged the corn." The violet is the royal flower; the imperial 
banner is of green and purple, with a white crown in the centre ; and the anthem 
of the mystic monarch is, "If ever I cease to love." The accumulation of 
costumes and armor, all of which are historically accurate, is about to result in 
the establishment of a valuable museum. 

The artist's pencil has reproduced in these pages one of the rnany comical 
incidents which enliven the Carnival tide, and calls his life sketch " Beauty and 



5«&i;A,^s*si - ^i -"i«; 

the Beast " I'^-oni the gdlleiy of the 
Varieties Theatre, many bright eyes arc 
in vain endeavoring to pierce the dis- 
guise under which a fashionable member 
of the Comus Krewc parades before 
their gaze. 

From early morning until nightfall 
the same quaint, distorted street-cries 
which one hears in foreign cities ring 
through the streets of New Orleans; 
and in the French quarter they are 
mirth-provoking, under their guise of 
Creole patois. The Sicilian fruit-sellers 
also make their mellifluous dialect heard 
loudly ; and the streets always resound 
to the high - pitched voice of some negro 
who is rehearsing his griefs or joys in 
the most theatrical manner. Negro- 
beggars encumber the steps cf various 
banks and public edifices, sitting for 
hours together with open, outstretched 
hands, almost too lazy to close them over 
the few coins the passers-by bestow. A 
multitude of youthful darkies, who Iiave 
no visible aim in existence but to sport 
in the sun, abound in the American 
quarter, apparently well fed and happy. 
The mass of the ncG^roes are reck- 

"Many bright eyes are in vain enceavcring 
the disguise." 




lessl}- inii)roviclcnl. livin[,r, as in all 
cities, crowded together in ill-built 
.md badly-ventilated cabins, the 
ready x'ictims for almost any fell 

Next to the river traffic, the New 
Oilcans markets are more pic- 
luresque than anything else apper- 
taining to the city. The}- lie near 
the levee, and, as mark'ets, are in- 
deed clean, commodious, and always 
well stocked. But they have an- 
other and an especial charm to the 
traveler from the North, or to him 
who has never seen their great 
counterparts in luirope. The 
French market at sunrise on Sun- 
day morning is the perfection of 
vivacious traffic. In gazing upon 
the scene, one can readily imagine 
himself in some city beyond the 
seas. From the stone houses, bal- 
conied, and fanciful in roof and 
window, come hosts of plump and 
pretty young negresses, chatting in 
their droll patois Avith monsieur the 
fish-dealer, before his wooden bench, 
or with the rotund and ever-laugh- 
ing madame who sells little piles 
of potatoes, arranged on a shelf 
like cannon balls at an arsenal, or 
cha,ffering with the fruit-merchant, 
while passing under long, hanging 
rows of odorous bananas and pine- 
apples, and beside heaps of oranges, 
whose color contrasts prettily with 
the swart or tawny faces of the 

During the morning hours of 
each day, the markets are veritable 
bee-hives of industry ; ladies and 
servants flutter in and out of the 
long passages in endless throngs; 
but in the afternoon the stalls are 
nearly all deserted. One sees deli- 

MAKiCKr TYri;s 


cious types in these markets; lie may wander for months in New Orleans without 
meeting them elsewhere. There is the rich savage face in which the struggle of 
Congo with French or Spanish blood is still going on; there is the old French 
market-woman, with her irrepressible form, her rosy cheeks, and the bandanna 

"Passing under long, hanging rows ot bananas and pine-spples." 1 Pa^e 4(1. J 

wound about her head, just as one may find her to this day at the Halles 
Centrales in Paris; there is the negress of the time of D'Artaguette, renewed in 
some of her grandchildren ; there is the plaintive-looking Sicilian woman, who 
has been bullied all the morning by rough negroes and rougher white men as 
she sold oranges; and there is her dark, ferocious-looking husband, who handles 
his cigarette as if he were strangling an enemy. 

In a long passage, between two of the market buildings, where hundreds 
of people pass hourly, sits a silent Louisiana Indian woman, with a sack of 
gumbo spread out before her, and with eyes downcast, as if expecting harsh 
words rather than purchasers. 

Entering the clothes market, one finds lively Gallic versions of the Hebrew 
female tending shops where all articles are labeled at such extraordinarily low 
rates that the person who manufactured them must have g*en them away; qua- 
vering old men, clad in rusty black, avIio sell shoe-strings and cheap cravats, 
but who have hardly vitality enough to keep the flies off from themselves, not 
to speak of waiting on customers ; villainous French landsharks, who have 
eyes as sharp for the earnings of tlTe fresh-water sailor as ever had a Gotham 



shanghai merchant for those of a salt-water tar; mouldy old dames, who look 
daggers at you if you venture to insist that an)- article in their stock is not 
of finest fabric and qualit)-; and hoarse- voiced, debauched Creole men, who 
almost cling to you in the energy of their pleading for purchases. Some- 
times, too, a beautiful black-robed girl leans over a counter, displaying her 
superbly -moulded arms, as she adjusts her knitting- work. And from each 
and every one of the markets the noise iises in such thousand currents of 
patois, of French, cf iMiglish, of good-natured and guttural negro accent, 
that one cannot help wondering how it is that buyer and seller ever come 
to any understanding at all. 

Then there are the flowers! Such marvelous bargains as one can have in 
bouquets! Delicate jessamines, modest knots of white roses, glorious orange 
blossoms, camelias, red roses, tender pansies, exquisite verbenas, the luscious 
and perfect virgin's bower, and the magnolia in its season; — all these are 
to be had in the markets for a trivial sum. Sometimes, when a Havana 
or a Sicilian vessel is discharging her cargo, fruit boxes are broken open ; 
and then it is a treat to see swarms of African children hovering about the 
tempting piles, from u^hich even the sight of stout cudgels will not frighten 

In the winter months the markets are crowded with strangers before six 
o'clock every morning. Jaimty maids from New England stroll in the passages, 

"One sees delicious types in these markct-s. " (I'-igc 47 ] 



,,,,.,,, _,. escorted by pale and querulous invalid fathers, 

''i'^^&«^^^-' -^ or by spruce young men, who swelter in their 

thick garments, made to be worn in higher lati- 
[ew York or Boston ladies sip 
stall, groups of dreamy-eyed 
nd them and curiously scan the 
lets. Black urchins grin con- 
alms as the blond Northerner 
saunters by. Perchance the 
Bostonian may hear a silvery 
voice, whose owner's face is 
buried in the depths of 
a sun-bonnet, exclaim — 
"There goes a regular 
Yankee !" 

Sailors, too, from the 
ships anchored in the river, 
promenade the long pas- 
sage-ways ; the accents of 
twenty languages are heard; 
and the childlike, comical 
French of the negroes rings 

"In a long passage, betivec.i two of tne market Luildiiig-s, sits a silent , . , 

Louisiana Indian woman." [Page 47.] OUt abOVC tllC ClamOT. 

Wagons from the country clatter 
over the stones ; the drivers sing 
cheerful melodies, interspersed with 
shouts of caution to pedestrians as 
they guide their restive horses 
through the crowds. Stout colored 
women, with cackling hens dangling 
from their brawny hands, gravely 
parade the long aisles; the fish- 
monger utters an apparently incom- 
prehensible yell, yet brings crowds 
around him ; on his clean block lies 
the pompano, the prince of Southern 
waters, which an enthusiastic ad- 
mirer once described as " a just fish 
made perfect," or a "translated shad." 
Towards noon the clamor ceases, 
the bustle of traffic is over, and the 
market- men and women betake 
themselves to the old cathedral, in 
whose shadowed aisles they kneel 
for momentary worship. 

"Stout colored women, with cackling hens dangling from 
their brawny hands." 



COTTON furnishes to New Orleans much of its activity and the sinews of 
its trade. It stamps a town, which would otherwise resemble some 
decayed but still luxurious European centre, with a commercial aspect. Amer- 

" These boats, closely ranged in long rows by the levee." 
[Page 52.] 

icans and Frenchmen are alike inter- 
ested in the growth of the crop 
throughout all the great section drained 
by the Mississippi and its tributaries. 
They rush eagerly to the Exchange to 
read the statements of sales, and rates, 
and bales on hand; and both are intensely excited when there is a large arrival 
from some unexpected quarter, or when the telegraph informs them that some 
packet has sunk, with hundreds of bales on board, while toiling along the 
currents of the Arkansas or Red rivers. 

In the American quarter, during certain hours of the day, cotton is the only 
subject spoken of; the pavements of all the principal avenues in the vicinity of 
the Exchange are crowded with smartly- dressed gentlemen, who eagerly discuss 
crops and values, and who have a perfect mania for preparing and comparing 
the estimates at the basis of all speculations in the favorite staple; with young 
Englishmen, whose mouths are filled with the slang of the Liverpool market; 


and with the skippers of steamers from all parts of the West and South-west, 
each worshiping at the shrine of the same god. 

Fjrom high noon until dark the planter, the factor, the speculator, flit fever- 
ishly to and from the portals of the Exchange, and nothing can be heard above 
the excited hum of their conversation except the sharp voice of the clerk read- 
ing the latest telegrams. 

New Orleans receives the greater portion of the crop of Louisiana 
and Mississippi, of North Alabama, of Tennessee, of Arkansas, and Florida. 
The gross receipts of cotton there amount to about thirty-three and one- 
third per cent, of the entire production of the country. Despite the 
abnormal condition of government and society there, the natural tendency 
is towards a rapid and continuous increase of cotton production in the 
Gulf States. 

But the honor of receiving the Texas crop, doubled, as it soon will be, as 
the result of increased immigration, favoring climate, and cheap land, will be 
sharply disputed by Galveston, one of the most ambitious and promising of the 
Gulf capitals; and the good burghers of New Orleans must look to a speedy 
completion of their new railways if they wish to cope successfully with the 
wily and self-reliant Texan. 

Judging from the progress of cotton-growing in the past, it will be tremend- 
ous in future. In i824-'25 the cotton crop of the United States was 569,249 
bales; in 1830-31, it ran up to 1,038,000 bales; during '37-'38 it reached as 
high as 1,800,000 bales; and eleven years later was 2,700,000 bales. In 1859- 
'60 the countr)^'s cotton crop was 4,669,770 bales; in i86o-'6i it dropped to 
3,656,000 bales. Then came the war. In the days of slave labor, planters did 
not make more than a fraction of their present per cent. They themselves 
attended very little to their crops, leaving nearly everything to the overseers. 
Cotton raising is now far more popular in the Gulf States than it was before the 
war, although it has still certain distressing drawbacks, arising from the incom- 
plete organization of labor. The year after the close of the war, 2,193,000 
bales were produced, showing that the planters went to work in earnest to 
retrieve their fallen fortunes. From that time forward labor became better 
organized, and the production went bravely on. In i866-'67 it amounted to 
1,951,000 bales, of which New Orleans received 780,000; in 1867 -'68 to 
2,431,000 bales, giving New Orleans 668,000; in i868-'69 to 2,260,000, 
841,000 of which were delivered at New Orleans; in i869-'70 to 3,114,000, 
and New Orleans received 1,207,000; in 1870-71 to 4,347,000, giving the 
Crescent City 1,548,000; and in 1871-72 to 2,974,000, more than one-third 
of which passed through New Orleans. The necessity of a rapid multipli- 
cation of railroad and steamboat lines is shown by the fact that more than 
150,000 bales of the crop of i870-'7i remained in the country, at the close 
of that season, on account of a lack of transportation facilities. From 1866 
to 1872, inclusive, the port of New Orleans received 6,114,000 bales, or fully 
one-third of the entire production of the United States. The receipts from 
the Red River region alone at New Orleans for 1871-72, by steamer, were 



'Whenever there is a lull in the work they sink down on the cotton bales " 

197,386 bales; for iSyo-'yi they amounted to 284,313 bales; and the 

Ouachita River sent to the metropolis 89,084 bales in 1 871 -'72, and 

151,358 in 1870-71. 

Knowing these statistics, 

one can hardly wonder at the 

vast masses of bales on the levee 

at the landings of the steamers, 

nor at the numbers of the boats 

which daily arrive, their sides 

piled high with cotton. About 

these boats, closely ranged in 

long rows by the levee, and 

seeming like river monsters 

which have crawled from the 

ooze to take a little sun, the 

negroes swarm in crowds, chat- 
ting in the broken, colored 

English characteristic of the river-hand. They are clad in garments which 

hang in rags from their tawny or coal black limbs. Their huge, naked chests 

rival in perfection of form the works of Praxiteles and his fellows. Their arms 

are almost constantly 
bent to the task of re- 
moving cotton bales, 
and carrying boxes, 
barrels, bundles of 
every conceivable 
shape and size ; but 
whenever there is a lull 
in the work they sink 
down on the cotton 
bales, clinging to them 
like lizards to a sunny 
wall, and croon to 
themselves, or crack 
rough and good- 
natured jokes with one 
another. Not far from 
the levee there is a 
police court, where 
they especially delight 
to lounge. 

In 1871-72 (the 
commercial year ex- 
tends from September 

" Not far from the levee, there is a police court, where they especially deUght , (^ . i_ \ ^.i 

to lounge." y f y & ^Q September) the 


value of the cotton received at New Orleans was $94,430,000; in iSjo-'/i it 
was $101,000,000; and in 1869-70 even $120,000,000. The difference in 
the value of the crops during that period was very great. In 1 869-' 70 cotton 
sold for nearly $100 per bale, and in 1870-71 it had depreciated to an average 
of $65 per bale. Until the facilities for speedy transportation have been greatly 
increased, a glut of the market, produced by a successful conduct of the year's 
labor on the majority of the plantations, will continue to bring prices down. 

The whole character of the cotton trade has been gradually changing since 
the war. Previous to that epoch a large portion of the business was done 
directly by planters through their merchants; but now that the plantations are 
mainly worked on shares by the freedmen, the matter has come into the hands 
of country traders, who give credits to the laborers during the planting 
seasons, and take their pay in the products of the crop, in harvest time. 
These speculators then follow to market the cotton which they have thus 
accumulated in small lots, and look attentively after it until it has been delivered 
to some responsible purchaser, and they have pocketed the proceeds. 

They often pay the planter and his cooperating freedmen a much higher 
price for cotton than the market quotations seem to warrant ; but they always 
manage to retain a profit, rarely allowing a freedman to find that his season's toil 
has done more than square his accounts with the acute trader who has meantime 
supplied him and his family with provisions, clothing, and such articles of luxury 
as the negro's mind and body crave. Shortly after the war there was trouble 
between planters and factors ; and it is not probable that much, if any, business 
will hereafter be transacted by the latter directly with the planter, though upon 
the arrival of the crop in New Orleans the cotton factor becomes the chief 
authority. Business is largely done between buyer and seller on the basis of a 
confidence which seems to the casual observer rather reckless, but which custom 
has made perfectly safe. 

The Cotton Exchange of New Orleans sprang into existence in 1870, and 
merchants and planters were alike surprised that they had not thought its advan- 
tages necessary before. It now has three hundred members, and expends thirty 
thousand dollars annually in procuring the latest commercial intelligence, and 
maintaining a suite of rooms where the buyer and seller may meet, and which 
shall be a central bureau of news. The first president of the Exchange was the 
well-known E. H. Summers, of Hilliard, Summers & Co., of New Orleans; the 
second and present one is Mr. John Phelps, one of the principal merchants of 
the city.* The boards of the Exchange are carefully and thoroughly edited, and 
are always surrounded by a throng of speculators, as well as by the more staid 
and important of the local merchants. During the busy season, the labor at the 
Exchange, and in the establishments of all the prominent merchants and factors, 
is almost incessant. 

* The writer takes this occasion to acknowledge his indebtedness to Secretary Hester of the 
Cotton Exchange of New Orleans, and to Mr. Parker of the Picayune, for many interesting 
details in this connection ; to Hon. Charles Gayarre for access to historical portraits ; and to 
Collector Casey and his able deputy, Mr. Champlin, for reference to official statistics. 


In the months between January anti May, when tlie season is at its height, 
clerks and patrons work hterally night and day ; so that when the most exhaust- 
ing period of the year arrives, finding tliemselves thoroughly overworked, they 
leave the sweltering lowlands, and fly to the North for rest and cool refuge. 
New Orleans is accused of a lack of energy, but her cotton merchants are more 
energetic than the mass of Northern traders and speculators, working, as they do, 
with feverish impulse early and late. One well-known cotton factor, whose 
transactions amount to nearly $12,000,000 yearly, gets to his desk, during the 
season, long before daylight, — and that, in the climate of the Gulf States, comes 
wonderfully early. 

The railroad development of the South since the war has metamorphosed the 
whole cotton trade of New Orleans. Cotton which once arrived in market in 
May now reaches the factor during the preceding December or January. The 
Jackson and Mobile roads did much to effect this great change, and when 
rail communication with Texas is secured, it will bring with it another marked 
difference in the same direction. 

The sugar interest once left the most money in New Orleans; now cotton 
is the main stay. It is estimated that each bale which passes through the 
market leaves about seven dollars and fifty cents. Most of the business with 
England is done by cable, and the telegraph bills of many prominent firms 
are enormous. The Board of Arbitration and Board of Appeals of the Exchange 
make all decisions, and have power to expel any unruly member. 

The Louisiana capitalists have given some attention to the manufacture of 
cotton, and the factories which have already been established are clearing from 
eighteen to twenty-five per cent, per annum. There are two of these factories 
in New Orleans, each of which consumes about one thousand bales yearly ; 
a third is located at Beauregard, and a fourth in the penitentiary at Baton 
Rouge. The consumption by all the Southern cotton mills, during the three 
years closing with 1872 amounted to two hundred and ninety-one thousand 
bales, and is increasing at a rapid rate. Each new railway connection enlarges 
the city's claims as a cotton mart. The Jackson Railroad, during the com- 
mercial year 1871-72, brought into it forty thousand bales, thus adding about 
four million dollars to the trade. 

When the levees are crowded with the busy negroes, unloading cotton 
from the steamboats, the apparent confusion is enough to turn a stranger's 
head; yet the order is perfect. Each of the steamers has its special stall, into 
which it swings with grace and precision, to the music of a tolling bell and an 
occasional hoarse scream from the whistle ; and the instant the cables are made 
fast and the gangways swung down, the " roustabouts " are on board, and busily 
wheeling the variously branded bales to the spaces allotted them on the wharves. 

The negroes who man the boats running up and down the Mississippi are not 
at all concerned in the discharging of cargoes, being relieved from that duty 
by the regular wharfmen. There is a rush upon the pile of bales fifty-feet 
high on the capacious lower deck of a Greenville and Vicksburg, a Red River, 
or a Ouachita packet, and the monument to the industry of a dozen planters 



'The cotton thieves. 

vanishes as if by magic. Myriads of little flags, each ornamented with difterent 
devices, flutter from various points along the wharves; and as the blacks 
wheel the cotton past the "tally-man" standing near the steamer's gangways, 
he notes the mark on each bale, and in a loud voice calls out to him who 
is wheeling it the 
name of the sign 
on the flag under 
which it is to rest 
until sold and re- , 
moved. While the - 
bales remain on the 
levees, the cotton 
thieves now and 
then steal a pound 
or two of the prec- 
ious staple. 

This army of 
"roustabouts" is an 
ebony- breasted, 
tough-fisted, bul- 
let-headed, toiling, 
awkward mass ; but 

it does wonders at work. It is generally good-humored, even when it grum- 
bles; is prodigal of rude, cheerful talk and raillery; has no secrets or jealousies; 
is helpful, sympathetic, and familiar. It leaps to its work with a kind of con- 
centrated effort, and, as soon as the task is done, relapses into its favorite 
condition of slouch. 

Neither the sharp voices of the skippers, nor the harsh orders of the masters of 

the gangs, nor the cheery 
and mirth-provoking res- 
ponses of the help, mingled 
with the sibilations of es- 
caping steam, the ringing 
of countless bells, and the 
moving and rumbling of 
drays, carts and steam-cars 
can drown or smother the 
jocund notes of the negro's 
song. His arms and limbs 
and head keep time to the 
harmony, as he trundles 
the heavy bale along the 
j n,,. , V X -, 5^>- When he pauses from 

"There is the old apple and cake woman." [Page'56.1 ^^S WOrk, yOU may SCC his 



dusky wife or daughter, in a long, closely-fitting, trim calico gown, and a 
starched gingham sun-bonnet, giving him his dinner from a large tin pail ; or 
you may find him i)atronizing one of the grimy old dames, each of whom 
looks wicked enough to be a Voudou Queen, who are always seated at quiet 
corners with a basket of coarse but well-prepared food. Small merchants 
thri\c along the levee. There is the old apple and cake woman, black and 
fift}', blundering about the wharf's edge ; there is the antiquated and moss- 
grown old man who cowers all day beside a little cart filled with cans of ice- 
cream; there is the Sicilian fruit-seller, almost as dark visaged as a negro; 
there is the coffee and sausage man, toward whom, many a time daily, black 
and toil-worn hands are eagerly outstretched ; and bordering on Canal street, 

all along the walks leading from 
the wharf, are little booths filled 
with negroes in the supreme stages 
of shabbiness, who feast on chicken 
and mysterious compounds of 
vegetables, and drink alarming 
draughts of " whiskey at five cents 
a glass." The sailor on the Mis- 
sissippi is much like his white 
brother of more stormy seas, who 
drinks up his wages, gets penitent, 
confesses his poverty, and begs 
again for work. 

At high water, the juvenile 
population of New Orleans perches 
on the beams of the wharves, and 
enjoys a little quiet fishing. For 
two or three miles down the 
river, from the foot of Canal street, 
the levees are encumbered with 
goods of every conceivable des- 
cription. Then the landings cease, 
and, almost level with the bank on which you walk, flows the grand, impetuous 
stream which has sometimes swept all before it on the lowlands where the 
fair Louisiana capital lies, and transformed the whole section between Lake 
Pontchartrain and the present channel into an eddying sea. 

Up the river, commerce of the heavy and substantial order has monopolized 
the space, and you may note in a morning the arrival of a hundred thousand 
bushels of grain, on a single one of the capacious tow-boats of the Mississippi 
Valley Transportation Company. Merchants even boast that the port can supply, 
to outgoing ships, that quantity daily from the West ; and that the lack of 
transportation facilities often causes an accumulation of three hundred thousand 
bushels in the New Orleans storehouses. Up and down the levees run the branch 
lines of the Jackson, the Louisiana and Texas, and the New Orleans, Mobile and 


"The Sicilian fruit-seller.' 



"At high water, the juvenile population perches on the beams of the wharves, 

and enjoys a little quiet fishing." [Page 56] 

Texas railways, and teams drive recklessly on the same tracks on which incoming 
trains are drawn by rapidly moving locomotives. The freight depots, the recep- 
tion sheds and the warehouses are crammed with jostling, sweating, shouting, 
black and white humanity ; and, in the huge granite Custom- House, even politics 
has to give way, ^ >^r=^_^r£Ta^ .:_._. 
from time to time, 
before the tor- 
rents of business. 
At night a great 
silence falls on 
the levee. Only 
the footsteps of 
the watchmen, 
or of the polite, 
but consequen- 
tial negro police- 
man, are heard 
on the well-worn 
planks. Now and 
then an eye of 
fire, the lamp , ^^^ ^ 

- . . and enjoys a little quiet fishing." [Page 56] 

of an incoming 

steamer, peers out of the obscurity shrouding the river, or glides athwart the 
moonlight, and three hoarse screams announce an arrival. Along the shore, 
a hundred lights twinkle in the water, and turn the commonest surroundings into 

enchantment. There is little sign of life from any of 
the steamers at the docks, though here and there a 
drunken river-hand blunders along the wharves 
singing some dialect catch; but with early sun-peep 
comes once more the roar, the rush, the rattle ! 

The coastwise trade is one of the important 
elements of the commerce of New Orleans. Of the 
total tonnage entered and cleared from that port 
during the fiscal year 1871-72, fifty-four per cent, 
or 1,226,000 tons, belonged to this trade, representing 
something like $125,000,000; while the foreign trade 
was only $109,000,000 for the same period. During 
the commercial year ending September 30, 1872, 
two thousand five hundred and nine steamboats, 
comprising a tonnage of 3,500,000 tons burthen, 
arrived at the port. The value of the principal 
articles brought in by these boats was $160,000,000, 
the up-river cargoes amounting to about $90,000,000. 
It is, therefore, fair to estimate the net value of 
•■Thepoiite,^bj.t^con^sequentiaineg^ ^j^j^ commcrce at nearly $400,000,000 per annum. 


Now let US take the actual fij,^ures of the commerce of the Gulf for one 
year: that from September, 1871, to September, 1872. 

Coastwise trade $135,000,000 

Galveston trade 25,000,000 

Mobile trade 24,000,000 

Exports from New Orleans 90,800,000 

Imports to New Orleans 18,700,000 

Cuban trade 150,000,000 

Porto Rico 25,000,000 

Mexico 35,000,000 

This, exclusive of the Darien and Central American trade, now so rapidly 
increasing, makes a grand total of more than five hundred millions of dollars.* 

* The collection district, of which New Orleans is the chief port, embraces all the shores, 
inlets, and waters within the State of Louisiana east of the Atchafalaya, not including the 
waters of the Teche, of the Ohio river, or the several rivers and creeks emptying into it, or 
of the Mississippi or any of its tributaries except those within the State of Mississippi. The 
district extends on the coast from the western boundary of Mississippi, on Lake Borgne, to the 
Atchafalaya ; and the ports of delivery, to which merchandise can be shipped under transporta- 
tion bond, are as follows : Bayou St. John and Lake Port, in Louisiana ; Memphis, Nashville, 
Chattanooga and Knoxville, in Tennessee ; Hickman and Louisville, in Kentucky ; Tuscumbia, 
in Alabama ; Cincinnati, in Ohio ; Madison, New Albany and Evansville, in Indiana ; Cairo, 
Alton, Ouincy, Peoria and Galena, in Illinois; Dubuque, Burlington and Keokuk, in Iowa; 
Hannibal and St. Louis, in Missouri, and Leavenworth, in Kansas. The shipment of merchan- 
dise, under transportation bond, has increased steadily from $1,736,981 in 1866 to $5,502,427 in 
1872; the value of merchandise imported, from $10,878,365 to $20,006,363; and domestic 
exports, from $89,002,141 to $95,970,592, in the same period. The total value of the mer- 
chandise imported during those years is $102,305,014; the total of domestic exports amounted 
to $608,871,013, and the whole amount of revenue collected, to $35,140,906. 

The receipts from customs at New Orleans for 1872 were very much diminished by the large 
shipments of goods in bond to the interior cities of Memphis, Nashville, Louisville, Cincinnati, 
Cairo, St. Louis, Chicago, etc., the duties on which were collected at those ports respectively. 
From 1866 to 1872 inclusive, the movement of the port included 2,852 foreign vessels, with a 
tonnage of 1,547,747 tons, and 1,773 American ships, with a tonnage of 1,100,492. The rev- 
enue receipts at New Orleans have been largely diminished by the removal of the duties on 
coffee — the importations of that article during the seven years following 1866 amounting to 
155,953,213 pounds, valued at $16,511,602. The magnitude of the trade of the port may also 
be well illustrated by showing the importations of sugar and railroad iron for the same time. 
Of the former article there were imported 263,918.978 pounds, worth $14,531,960, and of the 
latter 480,043 tons, valued at $15,299,642. 

It will be seen that the imports are small in qua.itity as compared with the exports when 
the cotton is counted in — the imports amounting to only about one-seventh of the exports ; but 
this ratio will be much reduced in time, as New Orleans becomes a more economical port. 
Five steamship lines now make the city their point of departure. Three of these, the Liverpool 
Southern, the Mississippi and Dominion, and the State Line Steamship Company, communi- 
cate directly with Liverpool, while other lines are projected. 



NEW Orleans is built on land from two to four feet below the level 
of the Mississippi river at high water mark. It fronts on a great bend in 
the stream in the form of a semicircle, whence it takes its appellation of the 
"Crescent City," and stretches back to the borders of Lake Pontchartrain, which 

lies several feet below the level of the 

Mississippi, and has an outlet on the ^ 

Gulf of Mexico. The rain-fall, the 
sewerage of the city, and the surplus 
water from the river, are drained into 
the canals which traverse New 
Orleans, and are thence carried into 
the lake. The two principal canals, 
known as the Old and New Basins, 
are navigable ; steamers of consider- 
able size run through them and the 
lake to the Gulf, and thence along 
the Southern Atlantic coast ; and 
schooners and barks, laden with lum- 
ber and produce, are towed in and 
out by mules. The city is divided 
into drainage districts, in each of 
which large pumping machines are 
constantly worked to keep down the 
encroaching water. Were it not 
for the canals and the drainage system, the low-lying city would, after a 
heavy rain, be partially submerged. A fine levee extends for four and a-half 
miles along the front of Lake Pontchartrain, making a grand driveway ; and as a 
complement to this improvement, it is expected that in a few years the cypress 
swamps will be filled up, and the lake front will be studded with mansions. 
The building of this levee was an imperative necessity, the action of the lake 
making the perfecting of tlie city's present system of drainage impossible other- 

On Sundays the shell road leading northward from Canal street past the 
Metairie and Oakland Parks, by the side of the New Basin, is crowded with 
teams, and the restaurants, half hidden by foliage, echo to boisterous merri- 
ment. But on a week day it is almost deserted. Schooners on the canal glide 

The St. Charles Hotel — New Orleans. 

[Page 6i.] 



The New Basin. [Page 59.] 

lazily along; ragged negro boys sit on the banks, sleepily fishing; while the 
intense green of the leaves is beautifully reflected frcim the water. Arrived near 
the lake, you catch a view of dark water in the canal in the foreground, with a 
gayly-painted sail-boat lying close to the bank ; an ornamental gateway just 

beyond; a flock of goats browsing at 
the roadside ; and afar off, a white 
light-house standing lonely on a narrow 
point of land. You may step into a 
.sail-boat at the lake, and let a brown, 
barefooted Creole fisherman sail you 
down to the pier where the railroad 
from New Orleans terminates ; then 
back again, up the Bayou St. John, 
until he lands you near the walls of 
the "old Spanish fort." There you 
may find a summer-house, an orchard, and a rose-garden. From the balcony 
you can see a long pier running into the lake ; the sun's gold on the rippling 
water; the oranges in the trees below; the group of sailors tugging at the 
cable of their schooner; the pretty cluster of cottages near the levee's end; 
the cannon, old and dismounted, lying half-buried under the grasses ; the 
wealth of peach-blossoms in the bent tree near the parapet; and a bevy of bare- 
legged children playing about their mother, as she sits on the sward, cutting 
rose-stems, and twisting blossoms into bouquets. 

As evening deepens, you sail home, and, in the dining-room of the restaurant 
near the canal, look out upon the passing barges and boats gliding noiselessly 
townward ; hear the shouts of festive parties as they wander on the levee, or 
along the cypress-girt shore; hear the boatmen singing catches; or watch a 
blood-red moon as it rises slowly, and casts an enchanted light over the burnished 
surface of the water-way. 

A promenade on Canal street is quite as picturesque as any in the French 
quarter. There is the negro boot-black sitting in the sun, with his own splay- 
feet on his blacking-block; and there are the bouquet-sellers, black and white, 
ranged at convenient corners, with baskets filled with breast knots of violets, and 
a world of rose-buds, camelias, and other rich blossoms. The newsboy cries his 
wares, vociferous as 
his brother of Go- 
tham. The " roust- 
abouts" from the 
levee, clad in striped 
trowsers and flannel 
shirts, and in coats 
and hats which they 
seem to have slept 
in for a century, 

hasten homeward to The old Spanish Fort. 



dinner, with their cotton-hooks clenched in their brawny hands. The ropers 
for gambhng-houses — one of the curses of New Orleans — haunt each con- 
spicuous corner, and impudently scan passers-by. 

From twelve to two the American ladies monopolize Canal street. Hund- 
reds of lovely brunettes may be seen, in carriages, in cars, in couples with 
mamma, or accompanied by the tall, 

dark, thin Southern youth, attired ,#JV^_/Js- ^- ---. 

in black broadcloth, slouch hat, and % 
irreproachable morning gloves. The 
confectioners' shops are crowded with 
dainty little women, who have the 
Italian rage for confetti, and the 
sugared cakes of the pastry-cook 
vanish like morning dew. The 
matinees at the American theatres, 
as at the French, begin at noon; and 
at three or half-past three, twice a 
week, the tide of beauty floods Canal, 
St. Charles, Carondelet, Rampart, and 
other streets. At evening. Canal " 
street is very quiet, and hardly seems 

the main thoroughfare of a great Cit}^ "^^^ University of Louisiana - New Orleans. [Page 63.] 

The American quarter of New Orleans is superior to the French in width 
of avenue, in beauty of garden and foliage ; but to-day many streets there 
are grass-grown, and filled with ruts and hollows. In that section, not inaptly 
designated the *' Garden City," there are many spacious houses surrounded by 
gardens, parks and orchards ; orange-trees grow in the yards, and roses clamber 
in at the windows. The homes of well-to-do Americans, who have been able 
to keep about them some appearance of comfort since the war, are found 

mostly on Louis- 
iana and Napoleon 
avenues and on 
Prytania, Plaque- 
mine, Chestnut, 
Camp, Jena, Cadiz, 
Valence, Bordeaux, 
and St. Charles 
streets. Along St. 
' "harles street, near 
Canal, are the fa- 
mous St. Charles 
Hotel ; the Acad- 
emy of Music, and 
_^___,=,_^ _- ..„, , the St. Charles 

The Theatres of New Orleans Theatre, both WCU 


P U B 1. 1 C H I' 1 L I) I N G S . 

Christ Church — New Orleans. 

appointed theatrical edifices ; and the Masonic, City, and Exposition Hails. 
Opposite the City Hall — one of the noblest public buildings in New Orleans, 
built of granite and white marble, in Grecian Ionic style — is Lafayette 
Square. On its south-western side is the h'irst Presbyterian Church ; and at 

its southern extremity the Odd F'ellows' Hall, 
where the famous McEnery Legislature held its 
sessions. On Common street, one of the business 
thoroughfares of the town, is the University of 
Louisiana. The city is making its most rapid 
growth in the direction of CarroUton, a pretty 
suburb, filled with pleasant homes, and within 
three-quarters of an hour's ride of Canal street. 

Canal street is bordered by shops of no mean 
pretensions, and by many handsome residences; 
it boasts of Christ Church, the Varieties Theatre, 
the noted restaurant of Moreau, the statue of 
Henry Clay, a handsome fountain, and the new 
Custom- House. The buildings are not crowded 
together, as in New York and Paris; they are 
usually two or three stories high, and along the first 
story runs a porch which serves as a balcony to those dwelling above, and as 
protection from sun and rain to promenaders below. The banks, insurance offi- 
ces, and wholesale stores fronting on Canal street are elegant and modern, 
an improvement in the general tone of business architecture having taken place 
since the war. Under the regime of slavery, little or no attention was paid to 
fine buildings; exterior decoration, ,- -^ .- _:^_^ _^ _ ^, ^/ _: 

save that which the magnificent 
foliage of the country gave, was en- 
tirely disregarded. Now, however, 
the citizens begin to take pride in 
their public edifices. 

The bugbear of yellow fever has, 
for many years, been a drawback to 
the prosperity of New Orleans. The 
stories told of its fearful ravages during 
some of its visitations are startling- 
but there is hope that the complete 
and thorough draining of the city will 
prevent the repetition of such scenes 
and consequent panics in future. The 
inhabitants who remain in the city 
throughout the summer are, in ordi- 
nary seasons, as healthy a people as 
can be found in the United States. 

Although a hfetime spent in the soft Xhe Canal street Fountain - New Orleans. 



climate of Louisiana may render an organism somewhat more languid and 
effeminate than that of the Northerner, there are few of the wretched chronic 
complaints, terminating in lingering illness and painful death, which result 
from the racking conflict of extremes in the New England climate. 

The Charity Hospital — New Orleans. 

Many Louisianians disbelieve in the efficacy of quarantine against the yellow 
fever. They say that, during seventy years, from 1796 to 1870, they had quar- 
antine nineteen times, and in each of those nineteen years the dread fever at 
least showed its ugly face. The war quarantine, they assert, failed every year 
of the four that it was in operation. The Charity Hospital has received cases of 
yellow fever annually for the last fifty years. Only in two cases, however, where 
the proper quarantine precautions had been taken, had the disease assumed the 
proportions of a general plague. The general impression is that the fever will 
certainly carry off unacclimated persons; but physicians in the hospitals assert 
that there has been no evidence of the transmission of the fever in hospital 
wards to unacclimated people; and as they have watched cases for weeks after 
exposure, their testimony should be considered valuable. Previous to the war, 
no proper attention had been paid to drainage and cleanliness of streets in New 
Orleans; and it is the opinion of many 

good authorities that a careful exam- 
ining of all vessels arriving from foreign 
ports, and in town a sanitary police 
of the most rigorous character, will soon 
make the fever a rare and not a very 
dangerous visitor. 

The Charity Hospital is one of the 
noblest buildings in the city, and the 
people of New Orleans have good 
reason to be proud of it. Dating from 
the earliest foundation of the city, it has 
never closed its doors save when acci- 

The old Maison de Sante — New Orleans [Page 64. J 



dent has compelled it to do so temporarily. I'Vom the time when the Ursuline 
nuns took charge of it under Bienville until now it has been one of the most 
beneficent charities in the country. No question of race, nationality, religion, 
sex or character hinders from admission a single applicant for repose and heal- 

inu: within the wa 


the best medical talent is 
placed at the disposition 
of the poorest and meanest 
of citizens. The Asylum 
of St. Elizabeth, and the 
male and female orphan 
asylums, are also note- 
worthy charities. 

The Maison dc Sante, 
long one of the most noted 
infirmaries of New Orleans, 

The United Stiiics Marino Hospital — New Orleanb. js HOW dcSCrtcd, aud like 

the United States Marine Hospital, which has not been used since i860, is 
rapidly falling into decay. During the war the fine United States Hos- 
pital, which once stood at MacDonough's, on the river opposite New Orleans, 
was destroyed. 

The Protestant churches in the American quarter are good specimens of 
modern church architecture. The oldest of the Episcopal organizations, dating 
back to 1806, is Christ Church, on Canal street, founded by Bishop Chase. 
This church was the germ of Protestantism in the South-west. The present 
edifice is the third erected by the society. The fashionable Episcopal churches 

Trinity Church — New Orleans. 

St. Paul's Church — New Orleans. 



are considered to be Trinity and St. Paul's. Annunciation Church is a fine 
edifice. The McGhee Church, of which Rev. Dr. Tudor is pastor, is the prin- 
cipal of the Methodist Episcopal churches South. The Northern post-bellum 
settlers are mainly Congrec^ationril or Methodist, and have leathered at the First 
Congregational Church, dition, haviifg been 

and at the Methodist j ^ , largely aided by North- 

Episcopal Ames Chapel. I ern missions. As there 

The First Presbyterian i are one hundred and 

Church Society long en- ■ si.xteen churches in New 

joyed the spiritual guid- ^^^^i Orleans, the visitor can 

ance of the eloquent Dr. Hw hardly hope to peer into 

Palmer, a divine of na- ^^^^ ffl^! i them all; but on Baronne 

tional reputation. The ^^^^ ^^^iKliH'^^ street he may steal for a 
principal Baptist society B|J^^^|BM^MM moment into the shade 

assembles at the Coli- H^Hh|^HH|BHS of the old Jesuit Church, 
seum Place Church. 9|^HHH^H|H^^K ^nd, entering the dimly- 
There are great numbers j^ffl^^BlfflHuHySf^^ lighted nave, see the 
of colored church organ- ^^^M^^^^^ ^^S | ^ ^^ black-robed girls at the 
izations, many of which ^^^^^^K^StKBlm^l^^^^^ confessional, and the 
are in a flourishing con- First Presbyterian church -New orkans. j- j ch 1 y - d r cssc d women 
making their rounds before the chapels and kneeling, prayer-books in 
hand, beside the market-woman and the serving girl. The Jesuit Church, 
St. Augustine's, St. Joseph's, St. Patrick's, and the- Mortuary Chapel, are 



The Catholic Churclics of New Orleans 

among the best of the Catholic rehgious structures. St. Patrick's has a tower 

190 feet high, modeled after that of the famous minster at York, England. 

The city is not rich in architecture. After the National Capitol, the 

Custom-House is considered the largest public building in the country. It has 




a front of 334 feet on Canal street, and nearly the same on the levee. It is 
built entirely of granite from Massachusetts. Begun in 1848, little has been 
done since the war to complete it. As the seat of the United .States 
courts, and of the exciting political conventions which have been so intimately 

The Custom-House — New Orleans. 

connected with the present political condition of Louisiana, the Custom-House 
attracts an interest which its architecture certainly could never excite. The 
building still lacks the roof contemplated in the original plan. When General 
Butler was military commander of New Orleans he proposed to erect a tem- 
porary roof, but his recall came before the work was begun. 

The Ionic building at the corner of Esplanade and New Levee streets, once 
used as a United States branch mint, is noted as the place of execution of Mum- 
ford, who tore down the flag which the Federal forces had just raised on the roof 
when in 1862 the city was first occupied by the Northern forces. Mumford was 
hung, by General Butler's order, from a flag-staff projecting from one of the 
windows under the front portico of the main building. 

The United States Branch Mint — New Orleans. 




THE banks of the Mississippi, within the State of Louisiana, are lovely, the 
richness of the foliage and the luxuriance of the vegetation redeeming 
them from the charge of monotony which might otherwise be urged. Here 
and there a town, as in the case of Plaquemine, has been compelled to recede 
before the encroachments of the river. 

The people of the State have shown rare pertinacity in maintaining the levee 
system. Like the Dutch in Holland, they doggedly assert their right to the 
lowlands in which they live, always braving inundation. They have built, and 
endeavor to maintain in repair, more than 1,500 miles, or 51,000,000 cubic feet 
of levees within the State limits. Their State engineer corps is always at work 
along the banks of the Mississippi, above and below Red River, on the Red 
River itself, on the Lafourche, the Atchafalaya, the Black and Ouachita, and on 
numerous important bayous. 

The work of levee building has been pressed forward even when the Com- 
monwealth has been prostrated by a hundred evils. Detailed surveys are con- 
stantly necessary to insure the State against inundation. The cost value of the 
present system is estimated at about $17,000,000, and it is asserted that the 
future expenditure of a similar sum will be necessary to complete and perfect it. 

Ten years before the war, when Louisiana was in her most prosperous condi- 
tion, she possessed 1,200 miles of levees, and the police juries of the several 
parishes compelled a strict maintenance of them by "inspectors of sections." 
Of course, during the war, millions of cubic feet of levees were destroyed by 
neglect, and for military purposes ; and that the State, in her impoverished 
condition, should have been able to rebuild the old, and add new levees in so 
short a time, speaks volumes for her energy and industry, — qualities which 
find a thorough representative in General Jeff Thompson, the present State 

The Louisiana people claim that the general government should now take the 
building of levees along the Mississippi into its own hands, and their reasoning to 
prove it is ingenious. They say, for instance, that the tonnage of the great river 
amounts during a given year to 1,694,000 tons. They then claim that the 
transit of steamboats gives, by causing waves, an annual blow, equal to the 
whole tonnage of the commerce of the river, against each portion or point of the 
levees, or the banks on which the levees are erected ; and that this blow is 
delivered at the average rate of about six miles an hour, a force equal to 



15,000,000 tons; — a force cx[kiu1cc1 Ij)- the commerce of the whole iMississippi 
basin ui)on each lineal foot in the 755 miles of Louisiana levees upon the river! 
On these <,n-ounds they object to payini; ail the expenses of levee building in 
their own State ; and they are supported by able scientists. 

The United States certainly is 
the only power in America which can 
ever control the Mississippi, and pre- 
vent occasional terrible overflows ; 
and it is its bounden duty to do it. 
By day and night, the journey 
down river in the State of Louisiana 
is alike beautiful, impressive, exhila- 
rating. But when a moonless night 
settles down upon the stream, and 
you float away into an apparent 
ocean on the back of the white 
Leviathan whose throbbing sides 
seem so tireless, the effect is sol- 
emnly grand. 

Sometimes the boat stops at a 
coaling station, and tons of coal are 
laboriously transferred from barges to 
the steamer. An army of negroes 
sliovel the glistening nuggets into 
rude hand-barrows, which another 
army, formed into a i)rocession, car- 
ries to the furnaces. 

I v^ent down from Vicksburg on 
one of the larger and finer of the 
steamers; and the journey was a per- 
petual succession of novel episodes. 
At one point, when I supposed we 
"Sometimes the boat stops at a coaimg station " were comfortably holding our way in 

the channel, a torch-light flared up, and showed us nearing a scraggy bank. 
The thin, long prow of the boat ran upon the land. Gangways were 
lowered; planks were run out from the boat's side to the bank; forty 
negroes sprang from some mysterious recess below, and huddled before 
the capstan. 

The shower of harmless sparks from the torches cast momentary red gleams 
over the rude but kindly black faces. A sharp-voiced white man, whom I 
learned afterwards to call the " Wasp," because he always flew nervously about 
stinging the sprawling negroes into activity, thrust himself among the laborers. 
Twenty stings from his voice, and the dusky forms plunged into the darkness 
beyond the gangways. Then other torches were placed upon the bank — 
lighting up long wood -piles. 

wooDixc; UP. 


The Wasp flitted restlessly from shore to deck, from deck to shore, while the 
negroes attacked the piles, and, each taking half a dozen sticks, hurried to the 
deck with them. Presently there was an endless procession of black forms 
from the landing to the boat and back through the flickering light, to the 
tune of loud adjurations from the Wasp. Now and then the chain of laborers 
broke into a rude chant, beginning with a prolonged shout, such as 

•• Oh ! I los' my mom/y dar !" 

and followed by a gurgling laugh, as if the singers were amused at the sound of 
their own voices. When any of the darkies stumbled or lagged, the \\ asp, 
generally kind and well- 
disposed towards the ne- 
groes, despite his rough 
ways, broke into appeal, 
threat, and entreaty, cry- 
ing out raspingly and with, 
oaths, " You, Reuben !" 
"You. Black Hawk!" 
"Come on thar, you 
Washington ! ain't you 
going to hear me!" Now 
and then he would run 
among the negroes, urging 
them into such activity 
that a whole pile would 
vanish as if swallowed by 
an earthquake. In two 
hours and a-half sixty 
cords of wood were trans- 
ferred from the bank to 
the boat, and the Wasp, 
calling the palpitating 
wood-carriers around him, 
thus addressed them: 
" Now, you boys, listen. 
You, Black Hawk, do you 
hear? you and these three, first watch! You, Reuben, and these three, second 
watch !" etc. Then the torches were dipped in the river, and the great white 
boat once more wheeled around into the channel. 

On the shores we could dimly discern huge trees half fallen into the stream, 
and stumps and roots and vines peeping up from the dark waters. We could 
hear the tug-boats groaning and sighing as they dragged along heavily laden 
barges ; and once the light of a conflagration miles away cast a strange, dim 
light over the current. Now and then the boat, whirling around, made for the 
bank, and the light of our torches disclosed a ragged negro holding a mail-bag. 



Up the swinging gangway clambered one of our deck hands; the mails were 
exchanged ; the lights went out once more. 

So on, and ever on, a cool breeze blowing from the perfumed banks. Now 
we could see the lights from some little settlement near a bayou emptying into 

"Some tract of hopelessly irreclaimable, grotesque water wilderness." 

the stream ; now, the eye of some steamer, and hear the songs of the deck- 
hands as she passed us. Now we moved cautiously, taking soundings, as we 
entered some inlet or detour of the river ; and now paused near some great 
swamp land — some tract of hopelessly irreclaimable, grotesque water wilderness, 
where abound all kinds of noisesome reptiles, birds and insects. 

One should see such a swamp in October, when the Indian summer haze 
floats and shimmers lazily above the brownish-gray of the water ; when a 
delicious magic in the atmosphere transforms the masses of trees and the 
tangled vines and creepers into semblances of ruined walls and tapestries. But 
at any season you see towering white cypresses, shooting their ghostly trunks far 
above the surrounding trees ; or, half rotten at their bases, fallen into the water ; 
the palmettoes growing in little clumps along the borders of treacherous knolls, 
where the earth seemed firm, but where you could not hope with safety to rest 
your feet ; the long festoons of dead Spanish moss hanging from the high boughs 
of the red cypress, which refuses to nourish the pretty parasite ; and the great 
cypress knees, now white, now brown, looming up through the warm haze, and 
peeping from nooks where the water is transparent, seeming like veins in a 
quarry riven by lightning strokes. 

Vista after vista of cypress-bordered avenues, with long lapses of water filling 
them, and little islands of mud and slime, thinly coated with a deceptive foliage, 
stretch before your vision ; a yellowish ray, flashing across the surface of the 
water, shows you where an alligator had shot forward to salute his friend or 


attack his enemy ; and a strange mass hanging from some remotest bough, if 
narrowly inspected, proves an eagle's nest, fashioned with a proper care for 

You see the white crane standing at some tree root, sullenly contemplating 
the yielding mass of decaying logs and falling vines ; and the owl now and then 
cries from a high perch. The quaint grossbeak, the ugly heron, the dirty-black 
buzzard, the hideous water-goose, with his featherless body and satiric head, 
start up from their nooks as you enter ; the water moccasin slides warily into 
the slime ; and if you see a sudden movement in the centre of a leaden-colored 
mass, with a flash or two of white in it, you will do well to beware, for half a 
dozen alligators may show themselves at home there. You may come upon 
some monarch-tree, prostrate and decayed within from end to end. Entering 
it, and tapping carefully as you proceed to frighten away lurking snakes, you 
will find that you can walk through without stooping, even though you are of 
generous height. 

As far as the eye can reach you will see hundreds of ruined trees, great 
stretches of water, forbidding avenues which seem to lead to the bottomless pit, 
vistas as endless as hasheesh visions ; and the cries of strange birds, and the bel- 
lowings of the alligator, will be the only sounds from life. You will be glad to 
steal back to the pure sunlight and the opeij lowland, to the river and the 
odors of many flowers — to the ripple of the sad-colored current, and the cheery 
songs of the boatmen. 

Some evening, just as sunset is upon the green land and the broad stream, 
you stand high up in the pilot-house, as you float into a channel between low- 
lying islands, clad even to the water's edge with delicate shrubs whose forms are 
minutely reflected in the water. You may almost believe yourself removed out 
of the sphere of worldly care, and sailing to some haven of profoundest peace. 

So restfully will the tender glory of the rose and amethyst of the sunset come 
to you; so softly will the perfume of the jessamines salute your senses; so gently 
will avenue after avenue of verdurous banks, laved by tranquil waters and extend- 
ing beyond the reach of your vision, open before you ; so quietly will the wave 
take from the horizon the benison of the sun's dying fires ; so artfully will the 
perfect purple — the final promise of a future dawn — peep up from the islets' 
rims ere it disappears, that you will be charmed into the same serene content 
which nature around you manifests. From some distant village is borne on the 
breeze the music of an evening bell ; from some plantation-grounds, or a grove 
of lofty trees, comes the burden of a negro hymn, or a jolly song of love and 

Down below, the firemen labor at the seven great furnaces, and throw into 
them cords on cords of wood, tons on tons of coal ; the negroes on the watch 
scrub the decks, or trundle cotton bales from one side of the boat to the other, 
or they lie listlessly by the low rails of the prow, blinking and shuffling and laugh- 
ing with their own rude grace. Above, the magic perfume from the thickets 
filUed with blossoms is always drifting, and the long lines of green islets bathed 
by the giant stream, pass by in rapid panorama. 


X Y I' K S C) N 


You notice tlial some little fieiul of ;i black boy. clad in an old woolen cap, a 
flannel shirt whose lonij flaps han^- over his ra^^^ed and time-honored trowsers, 
and shoes whoso heels are so trodden in that when he walks his motion seems 
to rock the steamer, will, when his comrade is not watching, steal some little arti- 
cle which said comrade can ill afford to lose ; whereupon comrade, in due time 
discovering the loss, will end by complaining of the suspected boy to the Wasp ; 
then you see the Wasp come buzzing and stinging and swearing along the broad 
decks, and calling George Washington to a certain post where he is to face him. 
Perhaps the Wasp will say: "Ge(^rge Washington, Jack says you stole his belt;" 
and then will sting and buzz and swear ; whereupon George Washington, mop- 
ping his black face with the flaj) of his red flannel over-garment, will say hastily 
in one indignant sibilation: "Deed to God, hope I die, sah — no sah !" Perhaps 
then the Wasp will make George Washington hold up his hand, and, looking 

him earnestly in the face, 
Avill say, "George Wash- 
ington, are you going to 
tell me a lie?" with a 
buzz and a sting and a 

W h e r e u p o n George 
Washington will again and 
defiantly sibilate: "If dat 
nigger say dat, he lied. I 
do' know nuffin about his 
belt nohow. Mus' a los' 
it woodin-up las' night. I 
did n't tetch it ; " but after 
various hand-raisings will 

The monument on the Chalmette 

finally end by rendering 
up the belt, and retiring 
to the shade of a cotton 
bale, fo*llowed by the 
laughter of his com- 

You come to a planta- 
tion landing where some 
restive steers are to be 
taken aboard, and notice 
the surprising manner in 
which those playful •crea- 
tures toss about the 
negroes who wish to lead 
them on, until one or two 

agile fellows, catching the beasts by the tails, and as many more holding their 
horns, manage to make them walk the narrowest planks. 

Or you come to some landing where a smart-looking young negro man 
comes on board with a quadroon wife ; and you notice a hurried look of surprise 
on some of the old men's faces as the couple are shown a state-room, or as 
they promenade unconcernedly. 

Or a group of chattering French planters, with ruddy complexions and coal 
black eyes and hair, arrive, and the village priest, a fat, stalwart old boy in a 
white choker and a shovel hat, accompanies them ; or perhaps a lean, gray-haired 
man, with a strongly marked dialect and a certain contemptuous way of talking 
of modern things, tells you that he remembers the first steamboat but three that 
ever ran upon the Mississippi river, and hints that " times were better then than 
now. That was a right smart o' years ago." 

Descending the river from New Orleans, you go slowly down a muddy- 
colored but broad and strong current, between low and seemingly unstable 
banks. You pass the Chalmette battle-field, where Andrew Jackson won his 
victory over the English, and where Monument Cemetery, the burial place of 


many thousand soldiers, killed in the late civil war, is located. The monument 
from which the cemetery takes its name was erected in 1856, to commemorate 
General Jackson's good fight. 

The fears that the levees along the Mississippi would not be able always to 
resist the great body of water bearing and wearing upon them have several 
times been realized. Among the most disastrous instances of the "crevasse" is 
that of May, 18 16, when the river broke through, nine miles above New Orleans, 
destroying numbers of plantations, and inundating the back part of the city. 
Gov. Claiborne adopted the expedient of sinking a vessel in the breach, and 
saved the town. In 1844 the river did much damage along the levee at New 
Orleans; and the inundations of 1868 and 1871 were severe lessons of the 
necessity of continually strengthening the works. 

Within fifty or sixty miles of the river's mouths, the banks become too low 
for cultivation ; you leave the great sugar plantations behind, and the river 
broadens, until, on reaching the " Head of the Passes," it separates into several 
streams, one of which in turn divides again a few miles from its separation from 
the main river. Beginning at the north and east, these passes, as they are 
called, are named respectively "Pass a I'Outre," "North-east Pass," the "South 
Pass," and "South-west Pass." Across the mouths of these passes bars of mud are 
formed, deposited by the river, which there meeting the salt and consequently 
heavier water of the gulf, runs over the top of it, and, being partially checked, 
the mud is strained through the salt water, and sinks at once to the bottom. 

This separation of the fresh from the salt water is maintained in a remarkable 
degfree. When the river is high, the river water runs far out to sea, and has 
been seen at fifteen miles from the passes, with as sharply defined a line between 
them as that between oil and water. This is also true with reference to the 
upper and lower strata. Sometimes, when a steamer is running through a dense 
pea-soup colored water on top, the paddle-wheels will displace it sufficiently to 
enable one to see clear gulf water rushing up to fill the displacement. The 
flood tide runs up underneath the river water for a long distance, and, at extra- 
ordinary high tides, is distinctly visible as far as New Orleans, one hundred and 
ten miles above.* The bars change their depth constantly. 

When the river is high, and consequently brings down most mud, the depth 
of the deposit increases with great rapidity ; while in a low stage of the river 
the accumulation is slight. The bars are subject to another and great change, 
believed to be peculiar to the Mississippi ; that is, the formation of " mud 
lumps." These mud lumps are cone-shaped elevations of the bottom, often 
thrown up in a few hours, so that although the pilot may find ample depth 
for the largest ship on one day, on the next he may be aground with one 
of a much lighter draught. 

Sometimes the lumps disappear as quickly as formed ; at others they spread, 
show themselves above the water, and gradually grow into islands. It is sup- 

* For these and many other interesting details, the writer gratefully acknowledges his obliga- 
tions to Major C. W. Howell, Captain of United States Engineers, and to Captain Frank Barr, 
United States Revenue Marine. 



posed that this is the manner in which the lonj^, narrow banks on either side of 
the "passes" have been formed. These cone-shaped lumps of mud are beheved 
to be started by the action of carburetted hydrogen gas formed by the decay of 
vegetable matter contained in the river deposits, the substance of the bar being 
loosened by the action of the gas and forced upward until the lump makes its 
appearance above the water; when, becoming dry, and being continually fed 
by the forces from below, it gradually gains consistency, and forms another link 
in the delta chain, extending into the waters of the Gulf 

The attention of the United States Government to the necessity of improve- 
ment at the mouths of the Mississippi was first attracted in earnest in 1837, when 
an extended and elaborate survey of the passes and mouths was made by Captain 
Talcot, of the Engineer Corps. To save the commerce of New Orleans it was 
necessary to deepen the channel ; and the plan of dredging with buckets was 
carried into effect as far as a slight appropriation permitted. No farther work 
was then undertaken until 1852, when $75,000 was set aside for it; and a num- 
ber of processes for deepening — such as stirring up the river bottom with suit- 
able machinery, and the establishment of parallel jetties, five miles in length, at 
the mouth of the South-west Pass — were tried. 

By 1853 a depth of eighteen feet of water had been obtained in the South- 
west Pass by stirring up the river bottom; but in 1856 it was found that no trace 
of the deepening remained. In that year the sum of $300,000 was appropri- 
ated for opening and keeping open, by contract, ship channels through the bars 
at the mouths of the South-west Pass. 

Contractors began work, but unless they labored incessantly, they could not 
keep the channels open; and they retired discomfited. The plan of dragging har- 
rows and scrapers seaward along the bottom of the channel was adopted, thus 
aiding the river-flood to carry the stirred-up matter to deep water; and a depth 
of eighteen feet was maintained upon the bar for one year at a cost of $60,000. 
Other efforts, in 1866 and 1867, were equally costly and of small avail; and in 

1 868, the " Essayons," a steam 
dredge-boat, constructed by 
the Atlantic Works, of Boston, 
was employed upon the bar 
4t Pass a rOutre. The plan 
of this boat, which had been 
recommended by General 
McAllister, was a powerful 
steamer with a cutting pro- 
peller, which could be lowered 
into the surface of the mud, 
where its rapid revolutions 
would effect the necessary 
"stirring-up." So far as her 
draught permits, the "Essay- 
Light-house — South-west Pass. [Page 75.] ons " has been a complete 



success; and another steamer, whose cutting propeller can work at greater depth, 
and which has been named "McAllister," is now engaged upon the work. The 
main labor with these new boats has been done at the South-west Pass, which 
has become the principal entrance to the Mississippi, and there the United States 
Government is erecting a light-house on iron piles, as the marshes ofifer but an 
insecure foundation. The improvements at the river's mouth, like those in 
the Red River, Tone's Bayou, the Tangipahoa River, the harbor of Galveston, 
and the Mississippi forts, as well as those on the lakes in the rear of New Orleans, 

are all under the direction of 
Major C. N. Howell, of the 
Engineer Department. Pass 
a rOutre is generally consid- 
ered by best authorities the 
natural channel for eastward- 
bound and returning ships. 
With its bar opened, none 
such would, it is affirmed, 
ever go to South-west Pass, 
for the reason that they might 
save several hours coming 
in. This pass, properly 
opened, can accommodate three times the number of 
ships which now annually enter the Mississippi. 
The effect on the commerce of New Orleans of the 
bar-formations at the river's mouths is depressing. They cause burdensome taxes 
on the earnings of ships. In 1870 the value of imports at New Orleans amounted 
to only one-seventh of the exports; but if the port were made as economical as 
that of New York, by removing all obstacles to free entrance and exit, the 
imports would soon nearly equal the exports. The Government is at present 
expending about $650,000 annually on the necessary river and harbor improve- 
ments in Louisiana and Texas. Twice that amount might be judiciously invested 
every year. The work on the channel at the Mississippi's outlet must evidently 
be perpetual, unless the plan of a canal is adopted. 

"The Balize," now a little collection of houses at the North-east Pass, was 
a famous place in its day — was, indeed, the port of New Orleans; and 
vessels were often detained there for weeks on the great bar, which had 
been labored upon to but little advantage before the cession of Louisiana 
to the United States. The extensive French military and naval establish- 
ments at the Balize were utterly destroyed by the great hurricanes of 
September, 1740. Now-a-days, the venerable port is almost desolate; a 
few damp and discouraged fishermen linger sadly among the wrecks of 
departed greatness. "Pilot Town," at the South-west Pass, is interesting 
and ambitious. The pilots and fishermen are delightful types, and are 
nearly all worthy seamen and good navigators. At " Pass a I'Outre " and 
"South-west Pass" the Government maintains a " boarding- station " forprotec- 

76 k\II.K«>Al>S IN 1.0 r I S I A N \. 

tion of the revenue, and an inspector is sent up to tin- port of Neu" Orleans with 
each incoming vessel. 

Steaming back to the Louisiana capital on one of the inward-bound vessels, 
leaving behind you the low-lying banks; the queer towns at the mouths of the 
passes, with their foundations beneath the water ; the long lines of pelicans 
sailing disconsolately about the current; the porpoises disporting above the bars, 
and the alligators sullenly supine on the sand, you will land into the rush and 
whir of the great commerce "on the levcc. " If it be evening, you will hear the 
hoarse whistles of a do'zen steamers, as they back into midstream, the negroes on 
their decks scrambling among the freight and singing rude songs, while the 
loud cries of the captains are heard above the noise of escaping steam. 

One of the most pressing needs of Louisiana is an increase of railway lines. 
The New Orleans, Mobile and Texas road has done much for the commerce of 
the State, and is, undoubtedly, one of the best constructed lines in the country. 
It drains extensive sections of Mississippi and Alabama toward New Orleans. 
The extension of this route to Houston in Texas, and the building of a branch 
from Vermilionville to Shrcveport, will do much for the development of the 
commonwealth. The trade between New Orleans and Shrcveport, which is 
really immense, was much restricted for many years by the difficulty of navigat- 
ing the Red river, whose tortuous water-way;? have latterly been considerably 
improved. The projected "Louisiana Central" railroad, located along the route 
of the Red river for about 200 miles, passing through Alexandria and Natchi- 
toches, will make Shrcveport within twelve hours of New Orleans. The journey 
formerly occupied three or four days. Morgan's "Louisiana and Texas" rail- 
road extends from New Orleans to Brashear City on Berwick's Bay, where it 
communicates with a fleet of first-class iron steamers running to Texas ports. 
The branch of this road from Brashear City to Vermilionville, graded years ago, 
might now be completed to advantage. 

The New Orleans, Jackson and Great Northern railroad gives a valuable con- 
nection with the North, via Jackson, in Mississippi. A recent enterprise is the 
New Orleans and North-eastern road, which is to cross Lake Pontchartrain on a 
trestle-work, supported on piles, and opening up a delightful location for sub- 
urban residences beyond the lake, is to push on into the iron and coal regions 
of Alabama. The Illinois Central Railroad Company has built a line from 
Jackson, Tennessee, to the south bank of the Ohio river, opposite Cairo, Illinois, 
bringing New Orleans as near to Chicago by rail as it is to New York, and 
creating an important adjunct to the system for transportation from the North- 
west to the gulf and the ocean. Railroad routes along the banks of the Mis- 
sissippi would give new life to such towns as Baton Rouge, the old capital of 
Louisiana, 129 miles from New Orleans, and Natchez in Mississippi. Baton 
Rouge now has no communication with New Orleans save by steamer. It is 
a lovely town, built on gently sloping banks crowned with picturesque houses, 
the ruined Gothic State Capitol, a substantial Penitentiary, and the Asylum for 
the Deaf and Dumb. It is one of the healthiest towns in the State, and with 
proper facilities for speedy communication with other towns, might be the seat 


of a flourishing trade. Routes parallel with the river would be speedily 
built if New Orleans had better outlets and more tonnage. Knowing this, 
the enterprising inhabitants of that city are anxious for the Fort St. Philip 
canal, which shall render the tedious and risky navigation of the passes at the 
Mississippi's mouth unnecessary. 

The project of the Fort St. Philip canal is not entirely due to the sagacity of 
this generation. Forty years ago the Legislature of Louisiana, at the suggestion 
of a distinguished engineer, memorialized Congress on the subject of a canal to 
connect the Mississippi river with the Gulf,. leaving the stream a few miles below 
F'ort St. Philip and entering the Gulf about four miles south of the island *' Le 
Breton." Numerous commercial conventions have endorsed it since that time. 
It would give, by means of a system of locks, a channel which would never be 
subject to the evils now disfiguring the passes at the river's mouth, and would 
communicate directly with deep water. The estimated cost of the work is about 
eight millions of dollars. It is a national commercial necessity, and should be 
undertaken by the Government at once. New Orleans would more than quad- 
ruple her transportation facilities by means of this canal, not only with regard to 
Liverpool, Bremen, Hamburg, Rotterdam, Antwerp, Southampton, Havre, and 
Glasgow, but to New York and Philadelphia. Havana, Lima, and Aspinwall. 

'A Kic!:cl for Daddy.' 



THE main industries of Louisiana at the present time are the growth of 
cotton, the production of sugar, rice, and wheat, — agriculture in general, — 
and cattle raising. The culture of the soil certainly offers inducements of the 
most astonishing character, and the immigrant who purchases a small tract — 
five to ten acres — of land can, during the first year of possession, make it 
support himself and his numerous family, and can also raise cotton enough on 
it to return the purchase money. 

Vergennes, in his memoir on La Loiusianc, printed early in this century, 
says: "I will again repeat what I have already many times said — that Louis- 
iana is, without doubt, by reason of the softness of her climate and the beauty 
of her situation, the finest country in the universe. Every European plant, and 
nearly all those of America, can be successfully cultivated there." This was the 
verdict of one who had made a careful survey of the great province then known 
as Louisiana, and especially the tract now comprised in the lowlands. Rice, 
an important article of food, can be raised on grounds which are too low and 
moist for any other species of valuable vegetables, and in the Mississippi basin, 
rice, sugar and corn can be cultivated in close proximity. The fertility of the 
sugar lands is proverbial; and Louisiana is prodigal of fruit of all kinds. With 
but little attention orange and fig-trees prosper and bear splendid crops ; apples 
and peaches are produced in abundance; and grape-bearing lands are to be 
found in all sections of the State. Sugar, cotton, rice and tobacco might all 
be readily cultivated on the same farm in many sections. 

The cultivation of rice, introduced into Louisiana by Bienville, at the time of 
the founding of New Orleans, may be profitably pursued in all the "parishes," 
i. e., counties, on the river and Gulf coasts, and on the high pine lands of the 
northern part of the State. The rice raised on the irrigated lands below New- 
Orleans, and in the immediate proximity of the Gulf, is known as "lowland rice;" 
that raised elsewhere as "upland." 

The quality of the staple is constantly improving by cultivation. In i860 
the rice crop of Louisiana amounted to 6,500,000 pounds. There is no good 
reason why it should not now be 60,000,000. Barley and buckwheat flourish 
admirably in the State, and the attention given to the cultivation of wheat since 
the close of the war has accorded singularly gratifying results. The average 
yield in the hill portion of the State is fully equal to that of the Northern States, 
— about twelve bushels to the acre — and in the Red River Valley, where the 



planters were compelled to devote much of their old cotton land to the pro- 
duction of wheat, for the sake of getting the wherewithal to live, the yield was 
twenty bushels to the acre. 

The wheat yearly gains largely in weight, size and color. It is said that 
wherever the cavalry of the United States camped in Louisiana during the war, 
immense grain fields sprang up from the seed scattered where horses were fed. 
In the swamps of Assumption parish wheat and rye have been known to yield 
forty bushels to the acre. The wheat may be planted in September, October, 
or November, and reaped late in April or early in May. Indian corn does not 
yield well, rarely giving over fifteen bushels to the acre. Marsh, Hungarian 
herbs, and prairie grasses grow in abundance and make excellent hay. Pastur- 
age is perennial, and in the Attakapas the grazing regions are superb. Cotton 
may be cultivated throughout the entire arable portion of the State. 

The cultivation of the sugar-cane in Louisiana merits especial mention. 
One of the most remunerative of industries under the slave system, it has 
been for some time languishing because of the disorganization of labor, and 
because also of the division of large plantations into small farms. For a whole 
year before the sugar crop is ready for the market, a constant outlay is required, 
and the small planters succeed but poorly, while the larger ones have been 
ruined by the war, and have allowed their sugar-houses to decay, and their 
splendid machinery to rust in ditches. 

In 175 I, two ships transporting soldiers to Louisiana, stopped at Hispaniola, 
and the Jesuits on that island sent some sugar-canes and some negroes, used to 
their cultivation, to the brothers of their order in the new colony. The Jesuits 
at New Orleans undertook the culture of the crop, but did not succeed; and it 
was only in 1795 that the seeds became thoroughly naturalized in Louisiana. 

Up to 1 8 16 the cultivation of the cane was confined to the lower parishes, 
but it is now raised with reasonable success in many other portions of the State. 
From 1828 to 1833, the sugar production in the commonwealth was about 
280,000 hogsheads. The following table will show the amount of the crops of 
each year from 1834 to 1873 inclusive: 

•^T Production, 

^^''- Hogsheads. 

1834 100,000 

1835 30,000 

1836 70,000 

1837 65,000 

1838 70,000 

1839. ....... 115,000 

1840 87,000 

1841 . 90,000 

1842 140,000 

1843 100,000 

Year Production, 


1844 200,000 

1845 186,000 

1846 140,000 

1847 240,000 

1848 220,000 

1849 247,000 

1850 211,000 

185 I 236,000 

1852 321,000 

1853 449,000 

Y Production, 


1854 346,000 

1855 231,000 

1856 74,000 

1857 279,000 

1858 362,000 

1859 221,000 

i860 228,000 

1861 459,000 

1864. .War, 7,000 
1865 15,000 

Year Production, 


1866 39,000 

1867 37,600 

1868 84,000 

1869 87,000 

1870 144,800 

187I 128,461 

1872 105,000 

1873 90,000 

The ribbon cane planted in Louisiana was brought from Java, in a ship which 
touched at Charleston. It was hardy, and was at once adopted in all sections of 


the State. But it is thought that it has deteriorated very much, and an associa- 
tion recently sent a gentleman to the islands of the Pacific Ocean and to India 
to searcii for a fresh supply. He secured some ten thousand cuttings, which 
were so long in transit as to be nearly all destroyed, and parties in the sugar 
interest are now anxious that a government \cssel should be sent (jut to obtain a 
new supply. 

There were, at the time of my visit to Louisiana, 1,224 sugar-houses in 
operation in the State, 907 of which possessed steam power. The number of 
large plantations is everywhere decreasing, while small farms take their place. 

The cooperative system, as practiced in Martinique and other colonies, has 
been adopted to some extent in the State. It separates the production of cane 
from the manufacture of sugar, the small planters taking their cane to the sugar- 
houses to be worked through on shares. This is much better than the old 
system, which made the raising of sugar by free labor so expensive as to be 
almost impossible. The cooperative system will, perhaps, prevail very largely 
ere long, many extensive planters giving it their sanction. In 1871, there 
was enough labor and capital expended on the crop to have brought it up to a 
quarter of a million hogsheads. 

The accumulated losses of the last three years have made the trade so 
dubious that dozens of the largest plahters in the State cannot secure a cent of 
advances. Plantations are deserted ; owners are completely discouraged. The 
present sugar production of this most fertile of cane-growing lands is only two 
per cent, of the whole production of the world. The consumption of sugars in 
the United States for the calendar year 1871 was 663,000 tons, of which eighty- 
five per cent, was foreign. The whole number of acres now devoted to the 
cultivation of sugar in Louisiana is estimated at 148,840, producing to the 
acre about 49,000 pounds of cane, or 1,500 pounds of raw sugar. To every 
thousand pounds of sugar there is also a yield of 666 pounds of molasses. 

All the land comprised in the section known as the "Delta proper of the Miss- 
issippi River," embracing eighteen parishes and an area of I2,000 square miles, 
is peculiarly adapted to the cultivation of sugar-cane, as well as of cotton, corn, 
rice, tobacco, indigo, oranges, lemons and figs. More than half of the population 
of the State is settled upon this delta; and in i860, one htmdred and fifty thou- 
sand slaves were held in that section, and the total estimate of taxable property 
there, including the slaves, amounted to $271,017,667, more than half of the 
State's entire valuation. It is not wonderful that stagnation has fallen upon 
this once prosperous region, since, reckoning the slaves at the average $1,000 
apiece, by their liberation alone $150,000,000 of the above valuation at once 
vanished into thin air.* 

For fifty or sixty miles below New Orleans, the narrow strip which protects 
the Mississippi channel on either side from the gulf is crowded with plantations. 
The soil there is all of recent alluvial formation, and is, consequently, extremely 

* The census of 1870 gives Louisiana 732.731 population, of whom 364,210 were blacks. 
The population of New Orleans in 1870 was nearly 200.000. 

THE "magnolia" PLANTATION. 8l 

prolific. This section may, without the least exaggeration, be called " of the 
best land in the world." The rivers and bayous furnish fish and oysters of 
finest flavor ; the earth brings forth fruit and vegetables in tropical abundance ; 
all the conditions of life are easy ; and, in addition, there is the profitable culture 
of sugar and rice. 

The negroes themselves are making money rapidly in this section, and show 
much skill in managing their affairs. In many cases they were aided in purchas- 
ing their lands by their old masters, and generally go to them for advice as to 
speculation and conduct in crop raising. The same negro who will bitterly 
oppose his old master politically, will implicitly follow his advice in matters of 
labor and investment in which he is personally concerned. 

At every turn, and on every available spot along the shore, as one drifts 
slowly down the lower Mississippi, one is charmed to note the picturesque group- 
ing of sugar-houses and "quarters," the mansions surrounded by splendid groves, 
and the rich fields stretching miles away towards a dark belt of timber. 

Each plantation has its group of white buildings, gleaming in the sun ; each 
its long vistas of avenues, bordered with orange-trees ; for the orange and the 
sugar-cane are friendly neighbors. When the steamer swings around at the 
wharf of such a lordly plantation as that of the "Woodlands" of Bradish John- 
son, or that of Effingham Lawrence, the negroes come trooping out, men and 
women dancing, somersaulting, and shouting; and, if perchance there is music on 
the steamer, no power can restrain the merry antics of the African. 

The " Magnolia" plantation of Mr. Lawrence is a fair type of the larger and 
better class ; it lies low down to the river's level, and seems to court inundation. 
Stepping from the wharf, across a green lawn, the sugar-house first greets 
the eye, an immense solid building, crammed with costly machinery. Not far 
from it are the neat, white cottages occupied by the laborers ; there is the 
kitchen where the field-hands come to their meals ; there are the sheds where the 
carts are housed, and the cane is brought to be crushed ; and, ranging in front of 
a cane-field containing many hundreds of acres, is a great orange orchard, the 
branches of whose odorous trees bear literally golden fruit; for, with but little 
care, they yield their owner an annual income of $25,000. 

The massive oaks and graceful magnolias surrounding the planter's mansion 
give grateful shade; roses and all the rarer blossoms perfume the air; the river 
current hums a gentle monotone, which, mingled with the music of the myriad 
insect life, and vaguely heard on the lawn and in the cool corridors of the house, 
seems lamenting past grandeur and prophesying of future greatness. For it was 
a grand and lordly life, that of the owner of a sugar plantation; filled with 
culture, pleasure, and the refinements of living; — but now! 

Afield, in Mr. Lawrence's plantation, and in some others, one may see the 
steam-plough at work, ripping up the rich soil. Great stationary engines pull it 
rapidly from end to end of the tracts ; and the darkies, mounted on the swiftly- 
rolling machine, skillfully guide its sharp blades and force them into the furrows. 
Ere long, doubtless, steam-ploughs will be generally introduced on Louisiana 
sugar estates. Four of these stationary engines, built at Leeds, England, and 



I'kOM KN A I) K 1 N 


" A cheery Chinaman." 

supplied with water brought from the river in mule carts, suffice to do the work 
upon the ample plantation of Mr. Lawrence. 

As to the details of plantation work, the negroes, evidently, do not attend to 
them with quite the thoroughness exacted under the rigid discipline of slavery. 
Evidences of neglect, in considerable variety, offer them- 
selves to the critical eye. luitering the sugar-house, the 
amiable j)lanter will ])resent you to a venerable, mahog- 
any-looking individual in garments stained with saccharine 
juices, and with a little tone of pride in his voice will 
tell you that " this is Nelson, overseer of this place, who 
has been here, man and boy, forty years, and who 
knows more about the process of sugar- making than any 
one else on the plantation." 

Nelson will, therefore, conduct you into the outer 
shed, and, while showing you the huge rollers under 
which the canes, when carted in from the fields in 
November or December, are crushed, will impress upon 
you the danger of early winter frosts which may baffle 
every hope of profit, will explain to you how difficult 
and how full of risks is the culture of the juicy reed, 
which must be nursed through twelve or thirteen weary months, and may leave 
but a meagre result. He will take you across the delightfully-shaded way into 
one of the fields, passing on the walk a cheery Chinaman wearing a smile 
which is seven times childlike and bland, and point you to the stalks of the 
cane left at the last harvest to lie ail winter in the furrows and furnish young 
sprouts for the spring. These shapely and rich-colored stalks have joints 
every few inches along their whole length, from which spring out the new buds 
of promise. When the spring ploughing begins, these stalks are laid along the 
beds of the drills, and each shoot, as it makes its appearance, is carefully 
watched and cultured that it may produce a new cane, a great portion of the 
crop being thus reserved, each year, for seed. 

The complaisant overseer will give you a profusion of details as to how the 
cane, if safe from the accidents of the seasons, is cut down at its perfection and 
brought to the sugar-house ; how all hands, black and whfte, join, for many 
days, in "hauling" it from the fields, and then keep the mill going for a week 
night and day ; how there is high wassail and good cheer in the intervals of 
the work, and every nerve is strained to the utmost for the completion of the 
task. He will show you the great crushers which bring the sweetness out of 
the fresh canes as they are carried forward upon an endless series of rollers, 
and will then point out the furnace into which the refuse is thrown to be burned, 
thus furnishing the motive power for crushing the stalks and for all the minor 
and subordinate mechanical details in the processes of the manufacture. The 
baggasse, as this refuse is called, usually furnishes steam enough for this purpose, 
and leaves nothing but a kind of coke in the ash-pit of the furnace ; no coal 
being used except in the refining mill's furnace. 



Out from the crushed arteries of the cane wells a thick, impure liquid, 
which demands immediate attention to preserve it from spoiling; and then the 
clarifying process is begun and continued, by the aid of hundreds of ingenious 
mechanisms, whose names even you will not remember when Nelson takes you 
into the refinery. 

You enter a set of huge chambers, the floors of which are sticky with sugar, 
and watch the juice passing through various processes. There are the great open 
trays, traversed by copper and iron steam-pipes ; there are the filter-pans filled 
with bone dust, from which the liquid trickles down. Now it wanders through 
separators, and then through bone dust again, onward toward granulation in 
the vacuum pans, and then into coolers, where the sugar is kept in a half 

Sugar-cane Plantation — "The cane is cut down at its perfection " (Page 82] 

liquid state by means of revolving paddles, until, finally, it comes to the vessels, 
in which, by rapid whirlings, all the molasses is thrown out ; and the molasses, 
leaving the dry sugar ready for commerce, goes meandering among the pipes 
under the floors, and round and round again through the whirling machines, 
until there is no suspicion of sweetness in it, and it is ignominiously discharged. 

It seems a pity that such fine machinery should be in use only during one- 
sixth of the year, as it would be injured far less by being kept constantly run- 
ning than by remaining idle. The new steam-mills are, in every point of view, 
so vastly superior to the old horse-mills, that they have been adopted on the 
greater portion of the sugar plantations, and are desired by every planter; but 


they are so enormously expensive, tliat cooperative or joint ownership is, in 
many cases, essential. 

The division of the large plantations into small farms seems, sooner or later, 
inevitable; as no one owner can, under the new condition of things, make the 
necessary and continuous outlay. In a few years the cane now crushed at one 
of these immense sugar-houses in the winter months will belong, in small lots, to 
a hundred different men, instead of to the one aristocratic and wealthy planter, 
as under the old regime. ^ 

There is not a parish in Louisiana which does not offer powerful inducements 
to immigration ; not one which will not most bitterly need it if the present 
political condition, which is driving the original inhabitants from their homes, is 
continued. Closely following upon the bloodshed in Grant parish, came a hurried, 
voluminous emigration of its citizens to Texas. They flocked to the new Eden 
in the greatest terror, seeming eager to leave their homes forever behind them. 
Still, these troubles must some day have an end, because, save in the final 
disruption of the world, there is no end to the fairy beauty and fertility of 
the bayou lands, or to the luxuriant vegetation of the vast plains. 

The parishes bordering on the Red river are especially adapted to the 
staples — sugar, cotton, wheat, corn, rye and oats — and are always accessible, the 
river in their vicinity remaining navigable at all seasons of the year. These 
parishes, six in number, comprise more than 8,500 square miles of rich alluvial 
land, and some of the largest towns are situated in them. Shreveport, on the 
west bank of the river, is the second city in the State. It is now the great centre 
of emigration into Eastern and Northern Texas, and a line of railway is projected 
to it from Vicksburg, which will give it increased commercial importance. 

In the parishes which comprise South-western Louisiana, there are more than 
3,000,000 acres of land of almost inexhaustible fertility. The forests are com- 
posed of oak, ash, locust, pine, gum, maple, cypress, elm, willow, hickory, pecan, 
persimmon, dogwood, mulberry, and magnolia trees. The giant cypresses along 
the lakes and bayous are abundant enough to last for a century. Employment 
to hundreds of mills and thousands of workmen could readily be furnished, 
the lumber being easily floated down the innumerable bayous and along the 
lakes to market. 

By the borders of the great desolate sea-marshes of St. Mary and Iberia 
runs a grand belt of timber from one to two miles wide. A western editor once 
said that if the Teche lands of Louisiana were in Illinois, they would bring from 
$300 to $500 per acre. And they could be made worth that sum in their 
present situation in five years from this writing by the introduction of intelligent 
and laborious immigrants, and by the amplification of the State's railway system. 
The " Attakapas" region, as the five parishes or counties of St. Mary, Iberia, 
Vermilion, St. Martin and Lafayette were originally called, from the name of a 
tribe of Indians, is certainly seductive enough to tempt the most fastidious. 

The cattle- grazing regions are as extensive as remarkable. There are seven 
great prairies, respectively named Grand Choiseuil, Attakapas, Opelousas, Grand 
Prairie, Prairie Mamon, Calcasieu, and Aubine, all covered with rich pasturage. 


Thousands of cattle roam over these prairies ; the population is pastoral and 
to a certain extent uncultivated. There are Frenchmen and Frenchwomen 
among them who are as remote from any active participation in the politics of 
the State or the country at large, as if they lived in France. Cattle and horses 
subsist even in the marshes, and graze the year round upon a treacherous 
surface, in which such animals, bred on solider ground, will instantly sink and 
flounder. I am not willing to vouch for the Louisiana statement that these 
marsh-bred cattle and horses are web-footed, though such is the affirmation. 
One informant assured me that a proper system of transportation from 
the marshes to New Orleans would develop this now almost useless section 
immensely. Thousands of cattle might be turned in to grow fat and bide the 
time when their owners should seek them for the New Orleans market. They 
would not even need a cowherd's care. 

All the prairies in Western Louisiana are perennially green ; and upon them 
were once located the largest vacheries in the United States — vacheries whose 
owners sometimes branded five thousand calves apiece yearly. Sheep by 
thousands were also raised, but both these important industries seem to 
have largely fallen off since the war. The French paid great attention to 
the cattle and sheep husbandry in this section of Louisiana early in the last 
century, and it has been estimated by a competent authority that, allowing 
one animal to every five acres, more than 220,000 cattle could be annually 
reared and transported from the single prairie of Opelousas — a vast expanse 
of natural meadow. It was not uncommon for a stock raiser to possess from 
30,000 to 40,000 head of cattle, and twenty-five years before the war, the stock 
raisers of one parish in that section owned 100,000 cattle and 30,000 horses. 

There is no good reason why Louisiana should not be known in future as 
an extensive a cattle- raising State as her neighbor, Texas. She has nothing 
to fear from the dangers incurred by proximity to a foreign frontier, and there 
are no Indians to manifest their unconquerable longing for "raids." 

But if you wish once again to find the lost gate of Eden, if you wish 
to gain the promised land, if you wish to see in this rude, practical America 
of ours an "earthly paradise," where life is good, because Nature has invested 
it with everything that is delicious and fairest ; if you wish to see plantations 
at the height of culture — lawns as fragrant, as clean-shaven, as nobly shaded 
by graceful trees as any sovereign's — seek the Teche country. It is the pearl of 
Louisiana ; it is the gem of the South. Thither, more than a century ago, when 
the cruel order of the English dispersed them from their homes, Andry and the 
exiled Acadians took their mournful way. Thither they went, threading the 
swamps and wandering up the beautiful Atchafalaya, and her lakes, where 

"Water lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations 
Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty the lotus 
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. 
Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms. 
And with the heat of noon ; and numberless sylvan islands, 
Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of roses, 
Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber." 


Now, as then, tlic traveller, piishinj,^ his way in a liny steamer, or in a shallop 
or pirogue, can hear — 

"Kar off, indistinct, as of wave or wind in the forest, 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane, and the roar of the grim alligator," 

strange sounds from the dark forests and the lonely lands. 

b'rom Berwick's Bay, where the rich fields lie trustingly upon the water, 
and strange vines and creepers seem to caress the waves, and bid them be 
tranquil, ascend the Teche bayou, and lose yourself in the tangled network of 
lake and lakelet, plain and forest, plantation and swamp. By day \'ou shall have 
the exquisite glory of the sun, which, gleaming on the seigniorial residences, on 
the greai white sugar- houses with their tall chimneys, on the long rows of 
cabins for the laborers, on the villas peering from orange groves and bosquets of 
the mespilus, makes all doubly bright and beautiful ; and at evening the moon 
will lend her witchery to swell your surprise and admiration. 

You will drift on by superb knots of shrubbery, from which sprightly birds 
are singing madrigals ; past floating bridges and garden bowers ; past ruined 
plantations, the wrecks of the war ; past dense cypress swamps, bordered by 
picturesque groupings of oaks and ash and gum-trees; through that fine region 
stretching from the entrance of the bayou into the parish of Iberia and the town 
of New Iberia, where the beautiful water willows and forest trees lean forward 
from the banks as if to see themselves reflected in the stream ; where the wheels 
of passing steamers rudely brush the arching foliage ; where the live oak spreads 
its ample spray over some cool dell upon whose grassy carpet grow strange 
bright-hued flowers ; and where vistas of forest glade — happy sylvan retreats — 
open as by enchantment, and moonlight makes delicious checkerwork of gleam 
and shadow. 

Below New Iberia, on Petit Anse Island, there is a salt mine sixty feet 
beneath the level of the Gulf of Mexico, and you may go down through fifty- 
eight feet of solid rock-salt, to watch the miners pick out the crystal freight 
which has proved superior to any other salt found in the Southern market. Or 
you may penetrate the romantic country near Lake Peigneur, and even hunt 
the genial comedian — the noble artist who created the role of " Rip Van 
Winkle," — in his "Orange Island" retreat. 

The richness of Louisiana may perhaps be best illustrated by this same island. 
It is one of many in the lake, rising high above it and the surrounding 
prairie. It possesses delicious lawns miles in length, sloping gently southward ; 
orange groves, which in 1868, after a neglect of ten years, produced half a mil- 
lion oranges ; bold banks and knolls with northward outlook ; and delightful sea 
breezes constantly blowing over the whole length and breadth of its lovely 
lands. On Grand Cote Island you may wander among wide fields of cotton and 
of corn, or you may climb steep hill-sides to find a lake of purest water high up 
among them, its surface covered with water lilies ; or you may sit in garden 
bowers over which the Scuppernong grape-vines run riot, and gaze out upon the 
towering magnolia, the blooming cotton and the waving cane. 



'I"he forests in the parish of St. Martin, in the Techr valley, contain millions 
of tall, straiijht cypress-trees ; and beyond are stretches of ash, gum, hickory, 
black walnut, magnolia, liv^e, white and red oaks, linn, pecan, sycamore, and 
other trees. There are also here some grand estates, notably those of General 
Declouet, Mr. Lestrapes, and Dr. Wilkins. General Declouet's mansion is a fine 
type of the old Creole house, with spacious halls and corridors, baronial dining- 
room, and portrait galleries from which look down the faces of a hundred ances- 
tors. Avenues, bordered with China-trees or with pines, lead up to it; while 
magnolias, fig-trees, and live oaks are scattered throughout the grounds. 

One finds superb forests everywhere in Louisiana. They are among the 
chief glories of the State. One may purchase, for an insignificant sum, a lovely 
natural park, with trees in it which an English duke might covet for his estate. 

J he beautiful ' Citv Park ' ' 

The oaks which stud the beautiful " City Park," and the "race-course " grounds, 
in New Orleans, are exceedingly fine. City and country alike abound in the 
most delicious foliage. 

St. Mary's parish formerly contained 170 sugar plantations, scattered along 
the banks of the Teche, the Atchafalaya, and the various bayous and water- 
ways in that section. In the same parLsh, 13,000 slaves were owned before 
the war, and more than lOO vessels plied between Franklin (a pretty, 
cultured town, twenty miles from Brashear) and various Northern and Southern 
ports. The fertile lands readily yield a hogshead of sugar to the acre, and 

Kiissell & Stmtliers.N.Y. 



the mamifacture may begin early in November. Flooded rice-lands produce 
ten barrels to the acre ; unflooded, six. There are orange orchards in this 
parish producing 3,000,000 of oranges annually. Such facts are eloquent. 

Lands in certain of the parishes, not very far from towns and trade centres, 
can be generally purchased at from $3 to $15 per acre ; those more remote are 
only worth $1 or $1.50 per acre. The general health of South-western Loui- 
siana is good ; there is no greater error than the common supposition in the 
Nortii that the lowland climate is fatal to health. There is not a heartier or 
healthier population in the Union than that of South-western Louisiana ; none 
more frank, unsuspicious and generous. Of course hostility and even ostracism, 
at the present time, are the lot of such as take sides for the Kellogg Government ; 
but for him who does not take active part, no matter what his opinions may be, 
there is never even a harsh word. The recent operations of the " White 
League " in Northern Louisiana have been prompted by the extremists of 
the Democratic party, in the vain hope of intimidating negro voters, and 
driving out "Yankees" who are settled in some of the parishes, and who vote 
the Republican ticket. The assassinations of which this League has been 
guilty, and the proscriptive measures which it has adopted, are condemned in 
the strongest terms by large numbers of native Conservatives in other sections 
of the State, who realize that no reform is possible on the basis of an exclusive 
white man's government, and who appreciate the immense harm done the 
material interests of the commonwealth by a revival of the old Ku-Klux tactics 
which once disgraced the State. 

Louisiana has some few valuable minerals, and the discovery of rock-salt in 
VermiHon parish, and of crystalline sulphur on the Calcasieu river, has encour- 
aged a search for others. Iron is scattered at various depths below the surface 
of the State south of Red river, and in some of the parishes it is so abundant as 
to obstruct the ploughs or the hoes of the farmers. Valuable deposits of organ- 
ized peat are found in many places near the coast, and the investment of a little 
capital might soon develop a great industry in the preparation of this important 
fuel. Coal abounds in certain regions through which railway lines are already 
projected, and the petroleum wells in Bossier, Bienville, and Natcnitoches 
parishes, as well as in a broad belt extending nearly to the Gulf in Calcasieu 
parish, promise a remarkable development. The salt region runs through five 
islands, ranged along the coast for about twenty miles west of the mouth of 
the Atchafalaya. One of these islands is 140 feet above the sea-level. 


THE testimony of most of the planters in Louisiana, as elsewhere throughout 
the South, is that the free negro works well, and earns his wages, save 
when he is distracted by politics. Indeed, there are none who are willing to 
assert that free labor has not been a success ; and the majority would prefer it 
to the most arbitrary days of ownership, if the State were otherwise in a settled 

It is, nevertheless, evident that political excitements, gotten up by adven- 
turers with the hope of obtaining power, take the negro's attention altogether 
too much from his work, and constitute a species of mild intellectual dissipation, 
which he thinks it vastly fine to indulge in, but which only unfits him for serious 
efforts at progress, and factitiously elevates him to a position directly opposed to 
the interests of his fellow- citizens. 

Judging from conversations with great numbers of persons, there is not 
much hope that the equality of races will be at present recognized by the 
white man in Louisiana. He will not admit that the negro is at all competent to 
legislate for him, or to vote with him on matters of common importance to 
white and black. 

While he has no desire to see any of the conditions of that kind of society 
which prevailed before the war re-established, he refuses to recognize or acqui- 
esce in the actual condition. Having been, as he considers, doomed by the 
revolution, he sits haughtily tranquil, wrapped in reserve, save when he ventures 
to predict the downfall of the Republic, and to lament the despotism under 
which he asserts that he is kept. He is fond of gloomy horoscopes, and delights 
in announcing to the world that the precedent established in Louisiana by the 
Lynch returning-board and the Durell decision will yet be disastrous to New 
York and Massachusetts. 

He is not more glad to be rid of slavery than he would be to see the last 
negro vanish from the soil. He is weary of the whole subject of politics; 
anxious for immigration, yet doubtful of its practical results; willing to guarantee, 
to the extent allowed by his impaired fortunes, any reasonable enterprise tending 
toward the commercial development of the State, but discouraged, and often- 
times distracted. 

Impulsive, intensely individual, and extremely sensitive, he fancies that he sees 
fresh humiliations in the thousand changes which are but the inevitable attendants 
of the revolution. In the parishes, the tyranny of those who use the new political 
element for base purposes is constantly increasing in boldness and violence — now 


showing itself in an appetite for public plunder, and now in shielding from richly 
merited punishment some infamous scoundrel. 

Sometimes the negro, annoyed and perplexed, takes the reins into his own 
hands, and then follow scenes of bloodshed and violence ; then comes to the 
front the question of black versus white, and the commonwealth is, as nearly 
always when the Legislature is in session, convulsed to its centre. Meantime 
professional politicians and lobbyists constantly arrange new plans for the pacifi- 
cation of parties, for compromises never to be effected, and victories never to 
be won. 

The citizens are willing and anxious to work, but all their energy, all the 
intense commercial ambition of New Orleans is neutralized by the incubus of a 
legislature which in no wise properly represents the people. The negro afield, 
with his sturdy family around him, cultivating the little plot which has at last 
become his, and the white man, with his own hand to the plough, showing that 
he no longer thinks labor degrading, are, to be sure, gratifying sights, which 
present themselves from time to time ; but they are by no means so common 
as they would be if the State were not constantly anguish-stricken, overwhelmed 
with taxation and myriad debts, and hindered from making the improvements 
necessary to the securing of new trade and consequent prosperity. 

There are in Louisiana men of brilliant and imposing eloquence ; men of 
entrain and magnetism, who seem fashioned for leadership ; and yet, strange as 
it may appear, who take but little interest in the affairs of their own State ; who 
either content themselves with deriding their inferiors, or with watching chances 
for personal elevation by taking advantage of the weakness or insincerity of 
those in power. They laugh at the discomfiture of their fellows, while the house 
is being pulled down over their own heads. With anarchy at their doors, they 
refuse to take the first step toward reconciliation, or a proper understanding 
between the races now so equally divided as to numbers within the State 

In 1864 Michael Hahn was chosen first free State Governor of Louisiana. 
On the occasion of his inauguration* the celebrated Gilmore, then a band director 
in the Federal army, gave his first mammoth jubilee. Cannon roared, drums 
rolled, the earth shook. A constitutional convention was next held, and a 
constitution prohibiting slavery was a few months later adopted by the Recon- 
struction party. In 1865 Henry C. Warmoth was elected a delegate from the 
** territory " of Louisiana to the National Congress. The negroes placed him in 
office, and supplied him with funds. Under Banks, he had been provost judge 
of the parish of Orleans, and there had acquired influence over, and the confi- 
dence of, the colored voters. 

In the fall of 1865 the first general election under the new State constitution 
was held, and the Democrats were overwhelmingly successful in all sections. 
They elected J. Madison Wells Governor, and at the first session of their Legis- 
lature passed several bills which placed them in direct antagonism with the 
colored people. Among the measures instrumental in bringing on a conflict of 
races was a bill for the regulation of labor, which the negroes bitterly opposed. 


In 1866 a new constitutional convention was held, the members of the Radical 
party desiring to check the Democratic successes by remodeling the constitution. 
Riots occurred, in which white and black men lost their lives. This led to the 
appointment of a special committee of investigation by Congress, and to the 
inauguration of the policy of reconstruction. 

In the fall of 1867 another convention met, which had been provided for by 
the Reconstruction Act, and in May of 1868 a thoroughly radical constitution 
was adopted, Henry C. Warmoth being elected Governor, and a Republican 
Legislature, of course largely composed of ignorant negroes, coming into power. 
This legislative session was occupied by petty squabbles, and by the passage of 
many bills in the interest of corrupt jobs. The Conservatives did not, how- 
ever, yield their power without some shov/ of resistance, and the Presidential 
campaign of 1868 was the occasion of much severe fighting in the State. The 
negroes were very shamefully intimidated, and but few of them succeeded in 
casting their votes for President. 

However, the new party, composed of ignorant and immoral negroes, led on 
by reckless and greedy white adventurers, held Louisiana completely in its 
power, and gross frauds were perpetrated. Ignorance, captivated by the glitter 
of money, and misled by wily sharpers, thrust ruin in a hundred ways upon the 
unfortunate State. For two or three years the most scandalous plundering was 
indulged in. The Governor was himself disgusted with such manoeuvres, and 
gradually showed a leaning toward the respectable Conservatives, who now and 
then gathered around him. But the Conservatives had waited too long before 
attempting a policy of conciliation. The negroes were thoroughly estranged, 
and could not be persuaded to listen to anything which they might say. A 
division took place in the Republican party ; the Legislature became hostile to 
Governor Warmoth, and in the summer of 1871 a new convention was held in 
New Orleans. Both wings of the now divided Republican party attempted to 
obtain control of this convention, which was held in the Custom- House. The 
Federal appointees in New Orleans — Mr. Casey, the collector of the port, Mr. 
Packard, the United States Marshal, and others — refused the opposite faction 
admission to the convention, the services of a company of United States infantry 
being secured to prevent Warmoth's entrance. 

Upon this, Warmoth and his party declared war against the Federal 
appointees, held an opposition convention, and even sent a committee to Presi- 
dent Grant asking for the removal of Packard and Casey. The President 
disregarded this request, and Warmoth and his friends therefore opposed his 
re-election, Warmoth even braving the anger of the Administration by partici- 
pating in the Cincinnati " Liberal " convention of 1872. 

The division in the Republican ranks grew daily more pronounced, and when 
the time came to choose a new governor candidates were abundant. The Con- 
servatives finally united upon John McEnery ; Warmoth ran on an independent 
ticket, and the Federal, or "Custom- House " party, brought forward William Pitt 
Kellogg, the then United States Senator from the State. Mr. Kellogg had been 
collector of the port of New Orleans under President Johnson, and had acquired 



the Louisiana 
United States 
Carl Schurz 
up the whole 

some little knowledge of Louisiana ])olitics. He was, without doubt, beaten in 
the electit)n for governor, McEnery being unquestionably elected, although it is 
conceded on all hands that frauds were liberally practiced by both parties. 

The Conservatives, who had doubtless learned wisdom from their political 
experiences since the close of the war, were about to resume power, not a little 
glad to be freed from the contest of factions which had so long paralyzed the 
State, when their hopes were dashed by sudden I'^ederal intervention. 

The history of the infamy which, in the name of law, was perpetrated in New 
Orleans, in December of 1872, is well known to all who have taken any interest 
in general politics. The non-elected Legislature was placed in power by F'ederal 
bayonets, called into requisition by an order issued by a Federal judge named 
DurcU. A returning-board which had not, and did not pretend to have the elec- 
tion returns before it, yet which was the only one recognized by Judge Durell. 
who was firm in his policy of usurpation, seated the Kellogg government, and 

struck a direct blow at the will of 
the majority. It pushed Louisiana to 
the very verge of ruin. 
In his speech on 
bill, made before the 
Senate early in 1873, 
has briefly summed 
matter in the following words. 
Speaking of the Legislature mentioned 
above, he says : 

"There was, I believe, not a single 
one of them who was returned by a 
board that had the official returns of 
the election in its hands or had ever 
seen them. By virtue of what, then, 
were those men put in the Legislature? 
Not by virtue of votes, not by virtue 
of returns, but upon the ground of newspaper reports, of wild guesses, of forged 
affidavits, of the usurpation of a Federal judge, and of Federal bayonets. 
That was their whole title to the legislative capacity which they assumed. 

" What was their first act ? They impeached the Governor. Throwing aside 
all the forms of impeachment prescribed by law, they impeached and suspended 
the Governor, if a summary decree can be called impeachment and suspension. 
They who had not a shadow of right based upon law, upon votes, upon an elec- 
tion, upon legal returns, proceeded to undo one governor and to make another. 
That second governor was Pinchback. The National Government recognized 
him as the Governor of Louisiana. 

" Then they proceeded to what they called the canvass of the votes in the 
Legislature, not canvassing legal returns of voters in any legal form, but a can- 
vass on the ground of newspaper reports, wild guesses, and forged affidavits. 
What I say here is by no means an exaggerated assertion, for it is distinctly 

The Supreme Court — New Orleans. 



proven by the testimony, and I think it is denied by no one. Then they 
declared the men of their choice : Kellogg, Governor ; Antoine, Lieutenant- 
Governor, and so on all the State officers of Louisiana. 

"Thus the usurpation is consummated — a usurpation without the shadow of 
a law as an excuse; with nothing but fraud and force to stand upon; a usurpa- 
tion palpable, gross, shameless, and utterly subversive of all principles of republi- 
can government ; a usurpation such as this country has never seen, and probably 
no citizen of the United States has ever dreamed of The offspring of this Legis- 
lature is the Kellogg government." 

What has been the result of this usurpation ? The State has been broken 
down by taxation and debt ; the negro has been demoralized ; the principal cities 
and towns are impoverished. 

Had the usurpation been confined within bounds, the people of Louisiana 
would doubtless have borne it in silence ; but the usurping government was not 
content with ordinary measures. Possessed of arbitrary power, it proceeded to 
exercise it in the most odious fashion. Scarcely ninety days after the Durell 
decision, the judges whom, by large majorities, the people of the parish of 
Orleans had elected to preside over certain district courts, and who had been 
commissioned by Warmoth and sworn in, were unseated by force, and the can- 
didates who had been defeated were put in their places. 

This was the signal for an uprising. The incipient riot, however, was 
speedily quelled, and the natives of the State who did not propose to compro- 
mise their loyalty by a collision with the United States troops, stationed in New 
Orleans, were remanded to their condition of a subjugated class. 

Resistance to taxation, which began in 1873, was pretty effectually checked 
by the proclamation of the President, which made such resistance dangerous. 
People who wish to keep in their hands what little property now remains to 
them are compelled in one manner or another to pay up. 

New Orleans has suffered peculiarly, its taxable property being cumbered 
with two huge debts, that of the city itself, now estimated at about $22,500,000, 
and over three-fifths of the State's 
various liabilities. While the city 
groans under such enormous taxation, 
it has been loaded down with grievous 
licenses on all trades, professions, and 
occupations, amounting to nearly 
$1,000,000 annually. 

Under these burdens it is not as- 
tonishing that real estate in the city 
has declined from thirty to more than 
fifty per cent. The double public debt 
of the city is already more than one- 
fourth of its property assessment, and 
many times more than the value of all 

the available property now owned by The United states Barracks -New Orleans. 


the corporation. The annual expenditures of the city were increased from 
$3,767,000 in 1862, to $6,961,381 in 1872; and still mount upward. Mean- 
time the streets remain uncared for, ant! the treasury is empty. Where has 
the money gone ? 

The city certificates are sold on the street at enormous discounts ; the Legis- 
lature's sessions cost the people half a million dollars yearly, instead of $100,000 
as in i860, and this also the city is compelled mainly to pay; whoever, therefore, 
buys property in the city of New Orleans buys with it a share of a great and 
discouraging^ public debt. 

There is some hope, however, at present, for the administration of the 
metropolis. The economy inaugurated in 1873 will be but of small avail for 
a year or two, for the sums expended around the City Hall in New Orleans 
were so enormous that gradual reduction will not relieve the people much. 
The budget of 1872 provided for the payment of the sum of $229,000 to the 
various employes about the City Hall, or more than is annually paid to the 
President, Vice-President, judges of the Supreme Court, and cabinet officers of 
the United States, and the State officers of Louisiana. There was a veritable 
army of office-holders and dependents about the municipal head-quarters. 

The government of the city is now entirely vested in a mayor, and seven 
" administrators," respectively charged with the administration of finance, com- 
merce, improvements, assessments, police, public accounts, and water works and 
public buildings. These eight gentlemen constitute what is known as the City 
Council, and are elected biennially at the time of the election for members of the 
General Assembly. 

The famous Board of Metropolitan Police, created by Warmoth, is in no man- 
ner under the direction of the City Council, the administrator of the police 
department being merely an ex-officio member of that board. The Metropolitan 
Police constitute a body directed by a board controlled by the State Executive, 
and which is paid by taxes levied upon the city. It is in reality an armed mili- 
tary force which the central State Government maintains in the capital for the 
enforcement of its measures and the prevention of riots. Since Warmoth created 
it, its cost has been enormous, amounting to hundreds of thousands of dollars 
yearly. The police expenses for the year ending October ist, 1869, were 
$930,809.09; for 1870, $725,357.73; and for 1871, about $800,000. The 
municipality constantly threatens rebellion against the control of its action by 
State interference, but, meantime, that control increases in strength and 

The speculation in warrants, the creation of certain courts oui; of elements 
diametrically opposed to the real interests of the people of the State, are evils 
which are even worse than they have been represented by the injured, and for 
which there is no excuse. The Federal Government may and should protect the 
freedman in the rights given him by the revolution consequent on the war; but it 
should not permit the use of ignorant masses of negroes as stepping-stones to 
tyrannical, centralized power; it should not allow interlopers to array the black 
freedman against the white freeman, under any pretense whatsoever. 



To give an account of the condition of the State finances is somewhat difficult. 
It was stated, in 1872, that the amount of the actual funded and unfunded debt 
was between $24,000,000 and $25,000,000; that the contingent liabilities 
amounted to $5,483,602; and that the amount of bonds "authorized" by the 
Legislature, but not yet issued, was $10,770,000, making a total of actual, contin- 
gent, and prospective liability which is far from cheering, especially as from 
i860 to 1 87 1 the valuation of property in the State decreased from $435,000,000 
to $250,000,000. 

With the possibility of a war of races constantly thrusting forward its ugly 
head, it is easy to perceive how industrial development is hindered and capital 
frightened away ; it is easy to see how passions which should long since have 
become extinct still smoulder, and are ready at a moment's warning to burst 
forth into anarchy and chaos. 

It is now and then asserted that corruption, consequent upon despair and dis- 
gust, has affected the ranks of the native born citizens ; and that there have been 
cases where even they have crowded the lobbies of the hybrid legislature 
in the interests of corporations. This seems hardly credible, when it is 
remembered that the masses of the conservative citizens vehemently assert that 
the returning-board which established that legislature in power had no official 
statements in its possession on which to base its conclusion, and since they are 
supported in their assertion by the declaration of a Committee of the United 
States Senate that the Lynch returning-board's canvass " had no semblance of 

A visit to Mechanics' Institute, the seat of the Kellogg Legislature, during 
the session, is a curious experience. At the doors stand negro policemen, armed 
with clubs and revolvers ; and crowds of blacks obstruct the passage-ways. 
Mounting a staircase covered with 
old, tobacco stained matting, one 
finds himself in the House of Repre- 
sentatives, where sit the law- makers 
with their feet upon their desks. 
Nearly all the honorable members 
are black ; some of them are so 
completely ignorant that they cannot 
follow the course of debate. But all- 
are so drilled by the adventurers 
who control them that their oppo- 
sition to anything likely to better 
the present horrible political condi- 
tion is firm and determined. There 
are also many blacks in the Senate. 
When a colored man is in the chair, 
he is always falling into profound 
errors with regard to his rulings and 
decisions. He finds it difficult to 


Mechanics' Institute — New Orleans. 


follow the course of any bill the moment half-a-dozen members are speaking of 
it, and constantly submits to corrections and suggestions from some lean white 
man, dressed in new clothes, who smiles contemptuously, as, from a carpet-bag 
point of view, he superintends this legislative farce. And this scene has been 
enacted for six weary years — the State meantime sinking deeper and deeper into 
the abyss of crushing taxation. It is not wonderful that "White Leagues," in 
opposition to negro government, are springing up throughout Louisiana. 

Here are some instances which will show how greatly property, has decreased 
in value under the present crushing taxation and wholesale plundering. 

A gentleman in New Orleans was, some time since, offered a loan of $6,000 
on the security of certain real estate owned by him. He did not then need the 
money ; but recently went to the capitalist and said, " I will now accept your 
kind offer." Said the capitalist, " I would not now lend you $600 on the 
property. It is worth nothing as security. No property in the city, in the 
current condition of politics, is worth anything." 

A gentleman who purchased, a short time before the war, a finely wooded 
estate in a rich section of Louisiana, for $100 in gold per acre, informed me that 
he had tried repeatedly to borrow upon the security of that estate, and that he 
could not get any one to lend a sum equivalent to one dollar per acre on it. 

Some three years ago a prominent capitalist was addressed by a citizen of 
Louisiana, who represented that a great many rich estates could be purchased in 
various sections of the commonwealth for at least one-third of their original 
value ; and added, as an inducement to speedy decision, that he did not think 
property would ever be lower in Louisiana. The capitalist replied that he 
differed with his much esteemed friend ; that in a few years those estates would, 
by the various derangements consequent on the then predominant legislation, be 
reduced to almost no value whatever, and that he was therefore determined 
to wait. 

During a visit to New Orleans, in March of 1874, my attention was called to 
a number of notable instances of the rapid decline of property. One gentleman 
pointed out a house which, in 1868, he would have been glad to purchase for 
$12,000; a little later it was sold for $8,000; then for $6,000, and now no 
one could be found to take it at $4,000. Many houses are given rent free to 
persons who will occupy them, that they may not be allowed to fall into decay. 

The sheriff is the prosperous man in' New Orleans. His office has been 
made worth $60,000 yearly. 

The annual session of the Legislature, fortunately limited by the Constitution 
to sixty days, is a terrible trial. The state government cannot be depended 
upon. Earnest men, on the conservative side, are deterred from conciliatory 
action by the insincerity of those in power. At one time the dominant party 
seemed really desirous of inaugurating reform in the management of certain 
affairs, and called for a committee of investigation to be composed of the prop- 
erty-holders. But as, at nearly the same time, it voted away $500,000 worth 
of State bonds for a doubtful enterprise, the property-holders could not be made 
to beheve that there was, in truth, any desire for " retrenchment" and "reform." 


Time and time again the legislature which the Federal Government placed in 
power in Louisiana has sworn in as members men whom the returning-boards 
did not even pretend had been elected ; and these men have been allowed to sit 
as representatives of people whom they have never seen. 

One of the worst features of the situation in Louisiana is the entire absence 
of the intelligent and well-to-do negroes from politics there. It is only the ras- 
cals and the dubious who get into power; and they are more terrible than the 
white rogues. They practice all the vices in the calendar; they take the thou- 
sands of dollars diverted from their proper channels, and lavish them upon 
abandoned white women ; they enrich themselves and boast of it. 

The present condition of the educational system of Louisiana is encouraging, 
although disfigured by evils which arise from the political disorganization. The 
State superintendent of education, at the time of my visit, was a mulatto gentle- 
man of evident culture — seeming, indeed, quite up to the measure of his task, if 
he only had the means to perform it. He could not tell me how many schools 
were in operation in the State ; nor how rhuch the increase had been since 
the war. There was, he explained, the greatest difficulty in procuring returns 
from the interior districts, even the annual reports being forwarded tardily, or 
sometimes not at all. The school-tax has heretofore been two mills on the dollar, 
but it is to be raised to one-fourth of one per cent. The State is in six divisions, 
one of which comprises New Orleans, and there is a superintendent for each 

There are now in Louisiana 291,000 youth between the ages of six and 
twenty-one ; and it is fair to presume that at least one-half of them are children 
of colored parents, since the population of Louisiana is pretty equally divided into 
white and black. The Legislature appropriates half a million dollars yearly for 
the use of the schools, of which about seven- eighths is annually expended. 
There are a few mixed schools now in the State, although the mingling of colors 
has not been insisted upon. 

Great numbers of private schools have sprung into existence, especially in 
New Orleans, where the predominant religion is the Catholic ; and the Germans 
have shown their fear of mixed schools by establishing special schools for their 
own children. The Catholic clergy in New Orleans have not gone so far as to 
forbid the attendance of children of Catholic parents in the public schools ; but 
the organ of that clergy announced, some time since, that the poverty, and not 
the will of the parties, acceded the permission to attend secular schools. Im- 
mense progress has certainly been made since the war. In 1868, when the real 
work of school reform in the State began, there was no supervision whatever exer- 
cised over school funds, and millions of dollars were uselessly squandered. There 
were then less than one hundred public schools in the entire State. But it was 
estimated at the first educational convention ever held in Louisiana, which met in 
New Orleans, in 1872, that there were at that time 1,100 schools in operation, 
with nearly 100,000 pupils. The old system, or lack of system, had had most 
painful results. There were no means of obtaining proper reports ; there was no 
certainty that the few teachers who were employed did their duty. 


The present school-law is well adapted to the condition and wants of the 
State. There is one ugly fact in the way of progress in the interior of the 
commonwealth, and that is, as asserted by the superior officials, that the money 
appropriated to the different parishes for school funds, has, in many cases, 
never been used for schools ; and prosecution of officers supposed to have 
retained that money is of but small avail. There are ostensibly parish boards 
of school directors in office in ever)' section of the State; but they do not all 
perform their duty. 

The school-law provides for tnc maintenance of a proper normal depart- 
ment; and good teachers are yearly sent out therefrom. New Orleans now has 
about seventy public schools, and a little more than $700,000 invested in school 
property. The teachers in those schools exclusively attended by white children 
are all white ; in the few mixed schools there are some colored teachers. The 
superintendent said that it would not do to insist upon mixed schools in remote 
districts, as the people would in that case refuse to have any school at all. 

The Louisiana State University, temporarily located at Baton Rouge until its 
new buildings at Alexandria are completed, is a struggling institution, which 
needs and merits much aid from richer States ; and an agricultural college and 
a system of industrial schools have been projected. The colored children in the 
public schools manifest an earnestness and aptitude which amply demonstrates 
their claim to be admitted to them. People in all sections have ceased grumbling 
at the " school-house taxes," and that in itself is a cheering sign. . 




ONE of the saddest sights in New Orleans or Galveston is the daily arrival 
of hundreds of refugees from the older Southern States, seeking homes 
on the Texan prairies. The flood of emigration from South Carolina, Alabama 
and Georgia is formidable, and turned the tide of politics in Texas, in a single 

Going to lexas. 

men and little 

^^v■^ ^' - ^t- 

year, from Republi- 
can flood to Demo- 
cratic ebb. Old 
children, youths and 
maidens, clad in homespun, crowd 
the raihva\' cars, looking forward 
land of promise. The ignorance of these poor people with 
geography of the country in general, is dense. " I never 

eagerly to the 

regard to the 

traveled so much befo', '' is a common phrase; "is Texas a mighty long ways 

off" yet ?" The old men, if one enters into conversation with them, will regale 

him with accounts of life in their homes "befo' the surrender." With them, 


everything dates from the war, leaving the past irrevocably behind its yawning 
gulf, while in front there is only poverty — or flight. 

The route from New Orleans to Brashear City is, in the delightful months of 
April and May, one of the most beautiful in the South. Tlie railroad which 
connects at Brashear City with the Morgan steamers sailing to Galveston, and 
along which the tide of emigration constantly flows, traverses weird forests and 
lofty cane-brakes, and passes over bayous, swamps, and long stretches of sugar 

Crossing the Mississippi by the great railroad ferry to Algiers, the traveler 
soon leaves behind the low, green banks, studded with neat, white houses embow- 
ered in a profusion of orange groves ; and is borne out of sight of the black 
lines of smoke left upon the cloudless sky by the funnels of the river steamers. 
He passes Bayou des AUemands, and a low country filled with deep, black pools; 
hurries across the reedy and saturated expanse of Trembling Prairie, dotted 
with fine oaks ; rattles by Raceland, and its moist, black fields, to La Fourche 
Bayou, on which lies the pretty, cultivated town of Thibodeaux. 

He next passes Chacahoula swamp, a wilderness of shriveled cypresses and 
stagnant water ; Tigerville, with its Indian mounds ; the rich Boeuf country, 
along the banks of whose lovely bayou lie wonderful sugar lands, once crowded 
with prosperous planters, but now showing many an idle plantation. He passes 
immense groves, from the boughs of whose trees thousands of Spanish moss 
beards are pendent ; and through which long and sombre aisles, like those of a 
cathedral, open to right and left. He wonders at the presence of the bearded 
moss on all the trees, and his commercial eye perhaps suggests that it be made 
available in upholstery ; but he is told that the quaint parasite already does good 
service as the scavenger of the air. 

At Brashear City he finds a steamer for Texas at the fine docks built by the 
enterprising proprietor of the " Morgan line," and notes, as he passes out to the 
blue waters of the Gulf, the richness of the vegetation along the shores of the 
inlet. An afternoon and a night — and he is in Galveston. 

The coast line of Texas, bordering upon the Gulf of Mexico 'from Sabine 
Pass to the Rio Grande, — from the Louisiana boundary to the hybrid, pictur- 
esque territory where the American and Mexican civilizations meet and conflict, 
is richly indented and studded with charming bays. Trinity, Galveston, West, 
Matagorda, Espiritu Santu, Aransas, and Corpus Christi harbors, each and all 
offer varied possibilities for future commerce. The whole coast, extending 
several hundred miles, is also bordered by a series of islands and peninsulas, long 
and narrow in form, which protect the inner low-lying banks from the high seas. 

The plains extending back from the coast in the valleys of the Sabine, the 
San Jacinto and the Colorado, seem in past centuries to have formed a vast 
delta, whose summit was probably near the Colorado, and whose angles were 
formed by the Sabine and the Nueces. Great horizons, apparently boundless as 
the sea, characterize these plains ; the wanderer on the Gulf sees only the 
illimitable expanse of wave and alluvial ; the eye is fatigued by the immensity, 
and gladly seeks rest upon the lines of ancient forest which cover the borders 


of the Colorado and the Nueces. Beyond these plains comes the zone of the 
prairies, whose lightly undulating surface extends inland as far as the Red river, 
while the mountains on the north-west crown the fertile knolls of rolling country. 

These mountains are portions of the Sierra Madre, which is itself but a spur 
from the grand Andean chain. Running to the north-west in the State of 
Coahuila (once a portion of Texas), the Sierra Madre spur bifurcates to enter the 
Texas of the present, and continues in a north-westerly direction, under the 
name of the San Saba, in whose breasts are locked the rich minerals which the 
Spaniard, during his period of domination, so often and so vainly strove to 

The Texan coast sweeps downward and outward by a wide curve to the 
Mexican boundary. Approaching it from the sea, the eye encounters only a 
low-lying level of white sand, with which, however, at all hours, the deep colors 
of the gulf are admirably contrasted. 

The great sea highway to which I have previously alluded, from Brashear 
City, on Berwick's Bay, on the Louisiana coast, to Galveston, is well known and 
fascinating to the modern traveler. The enterprise and liberal expenditure 
of a citizen of New York, Mr. Charles Morgan, has covered the waves of this 
route with steamships, which, until recently, furnished the only means of com- 
munication between Texas and the rest of the United States. The Morgan Line 
was not merely the outgrowth of an earnest demand ; it was the work of an 
adventurous pioneer ; and although its importance, in view of the grand railroad 
development of Northern Texas, can henceforth be but secondary, its founder 
will always be remembered for his foresight and daring. The improvements in 
the channels from Berwick's Bay outward are also the work of the owner of this 
line. They comprehend the dredging of a great bar which once obstructed the 
short passage to the Gulf, and when completed will be of infinite importance to 
the commerce of the whole south-west. Thousands of tons of shells have been 
dragged out of the dark-blue water to make room for the prows of the Morgan 
fleet, pointpd toward Galveston and Indianola. 

And what is Galveston ? A thriving city set down upon a brave little island 
which has fought its way out of the depths of the Gulf, and given to the United 
States her noblest beach, and to Texas an excellent harbor. Seen from the sea, 
when approaching under the fervid light of a Southern dawn, or when sailing 
away from it in the white moonlight, so intensely reflected on the sand, it is 
indeed a place where 

" Myrtle groves 
Shower down their fragrant wealth upon the waves 
Whose long, long swell mirrors the dark-green glow 
Of cedars and the snow of jasmine cups." 

It is a city in the sands ; yet orange and myrtle, oleander and delicate rose, 
and all the rich-hued blossoms of a tropic land, shower their wealth about it. In 
the morning the air is heavy with the perfume of blossoms ; in the evening the 
light, to Northern eyes, is intense and enchanting. 



"It is only a few steps from an oleander grove to the surf." 

Thirty-one miles of picturesque beach are constantly laved by the restless 
waters. It is only a few steps from an oleander grove to the surf, the shell- 
strewn strand, and the dunes. The approach from the mainland will instinctively 
remind the traveler of Venice. A great bridge, two miles in length, connects 

the islet with the 
continent. Dis- 
mantled fortifica- 
tions near the 
bridge show one 
that the war 
reached even to 
the Gulf; and the 
mass of low- 
lying, white, bal- 
conied houses 
forms a pleasant 

Much of the 
island is unkempt 
and neglected- 
looking. Cattle 
wander freely 

about. There are a few market-gardens, and some meat-packeries in the 
suburbs of the city. Galveston itself, however, is as trim and elegant as any 
town in the South. The business quarter looks quaint and odd to strangers' 
eyes, because of the many long piers and jetties ; the mule-carts, unloading 
schooners anchored lightly in the shallow waves ; and the hosts of slouch- 
ing darkies, shouting and dancing as they move about their tasks. 

The "Strand," the main business thoroughfare, has been twice ruined by fire, 
but has sprung up again into quite a magnificence of shop and warehouse ; and 
Tremont, and other of the commercial avenues, boast of as substantial structures 
as grace the elder Northern cities. There is a network of wharves and ware- 
houses, built boldly out into the water, in a manner which recalls Venice even 
more forcibly than does the approach from the mainland. 

The heat is never disagreeably intense in Galveston ; a cool breeze blows 
over the island night and day ; and the occasional advent of the yellow-fever, — 
the dread intruder who mows down hundreds of victims, — is a mystery. It 
comes, apparently, upon the wings of the very wind which puts health and life 
into every vein ; and many a midsummer is rendered memorable by its 

Yet there could hardly be imagined a more deHghtful water-side resort than 
Galveston, during, at least, four months in the year. My first visit to the beach 
was in February, and the air of Northern June fanned the waves. The winter 
months could certainly be delightfully spent in Galveston ; and the little city has 
built a splendid hotel as a seductive bait for travelers. 



Galveston is memorable in Texan history as the retreat of the dread pirates 
of the Gulf — the smugglers and outlaws of Barataria. Though discovered in 
1686 by La Salle, it remained uninhabited until 18 16, when Lafitte and his pirate 
brethren from the Louisiana coast tested the capacities of the harbor, and shortly 
after it was occupied by the forces of the " Mexican Republic." Privateers 
went out from the bay to cruise against Spanish commerce, and the fleets of 
Spain were swept from the Gulf 

The island also became a depot for the sale of negroes, to be imported into 
Louisiana, the native African's market value being one dollar per pound. At 
one time the followers of " Lafitte, the Galveston buccaneer," numbered a thou- 
sand refugees from justice. Lafitte was appointed "governor of the island " by 
the Mexican authorities, who cared little for the character of their public servants, 
provided they were eflScient. 

But in due time the prince of pirates was compelled by the Government of 
the United States to leave Galveston forever, as his followers had so far forgotten 
themselves as to plunder American shipping. The island again became a waste, 
and only an occasional superstitious hunter for the spoils of the pirates visited 
the sandy shores. 

As the republic of Texas grew in after years, however, so grew Galveston. 
It was a promising town before the late war. with perhaps ten thousand popula- 
tion. While the rude interior towns were still in their infancy, Galveston was a 
port of entry, the station of the navies of the little republic, and the scene of 
many courtly festivities in honor of foreign ambassadors. 

During the war its commerce was, of course, utterly broken, and it was occu- 
pied in turn by Union and Confederate soldiers. Latterly it has assumed a 
commercial importance which promises to make it a large and flourishing city. 

"The mule-carts, unloading schooners anchored lightly in the shallow waves" [Page 102 



although it has many rivals in the field whence it expects to draw its trade. 
The cotton factors of the city are enthusiastic in their belief that they shall 
succeed in bringing to their port the majority of the cotton grown in Texas, but 
they overlook the formidable rivalry of St. Louis. The capitalists of that city 
intend to control the whole cotton crop of Northern Texas, bringing it into their 
market over the new Cairo and Fulton line and over the railroads running 
through Central Northern Texas ; and in case the New Orleans, Mobile and 
Texas railroad should connect Houston with New Orleans, Houston might take 
the remainder of the cotton crop, diverting it from the Galvesion channel, and 
throwing it into the New Orleans market, Galveston has but one railroad exit, 
the line leading to Houston, where all the railroads of the grand new system 
will centre. Although the business men of Galveston are confident that the 

"Galveston has many huge cotton presses " 

cotton crop will all fall into their hands, those of Houston think differently. 
Galveston has many huge cotton presses, in whose sheds thousands of bales 
lie stored. 

It is to be hoped that such a large proportion of the twenty millions of acres 
of cotton-bearing lands in Texas will speedily come under cultivation that all the 
channels of trade will be filled to repletion. The freed negroes, who are through- 
out Texas an industrious and prosperous class, although, of course, characterized 
by the failings of their race, and the crudities consequent on their sudden change 
of station, are extensively engaged in the culture of cotton. The negro who is 
fortunate enough to have secured a tract of land, grows all the cotton he can, and 
if he would take the necessary pains to clean and prepare it, would soon enrich 
himself in the profitable culture. 



The lands at the head of Galveston Bay, and on the adjoining San Jacinto 
Bay, as well as all the lands in immediate proximity to the Gulf, are well 
adapted to the culture of sea-island cotton — equal in quality to the best grown 
upon the islands along the South Carolina and Georgia coasts. It would be diffi- 
cult to imagine a better paying culture than that of this excellent staple, the 
yield being from $200 to $300 in gold per acre. The alluvial lands along the 
Gulf demand the presence of the Chinaman; great fortunes lie hidden in their flats. 

The export of sea-island cotton is trivial as yet, but growing daily. In 1870 
the exports amounted to $17,719; in 1871, to $44,863, and in 1872, to $84,437. 
Some of the exports of the ordinary upland cotton from Galveston since the war 
are shown in the appended table : 


Bales. Dollars. 

16,417 '. $2, 146,224 

66,271 6,730,257 

87,794 7-687,464 

84,485 9'997,66l 

144,123 14,476,550 

'2.11,'in 16,060,794 

186,073 1 1,898,870 

333,502 32,423,806 

The commercial year begins May ist. 

The total amount of dutiable and free imports for each year since the 
re-establishment of business. May ist, 1866, in the Galveston Custom -House, 
until December 31st, 1872, is as follows: 1866, $366,388; in 1867, %'j66,62y \ 
in 1868, $251,052; in 1869, $276,588; in 1870, $774,918; in 1871, $1,586,408; 
and in 1872, $1,940,292. 

The number of entrances of foreign and coastwise vessels in Galveston harbor 
yearly varies from 700 to 1,400. Steamships loaded with cotton run regularly 
between Galveston and Liverpool ; 
and, returning, bring out English, 
Irish, and Scotch emigrants, giving 
them credit for their passage-money, 
and binding them by contract to work 
for a fixed sum for a certain term after 
their arrival in Texas. This plan has 
thus far succeeded admirably, and is 
bringing hundreds of worthy families 
from the slums of English cities into 
the inspiring atmosphere of the Texan 
uplands. The main shipments of 
cotton are, of course, to Liverpool 
although London, Bremen, and Ham- 
burg receive some of the crop. 

There are now fifteen steamers run- 
ning to Berwick's Bay; eight to New The Custom. Hous^ Galveston. 



York ; a line to Baltimore ; bayou steamers to Houston, and river steamers from 
the Trinity and the Brazos. The steamship line between New York and Gal- 
veston carries about ninety-five per cent, of all the merchandise sent into Texas 
from New York, Philadelphia, Boston and Baltimore. The forei<^n trade of the 

"I'rlmitivc enough is this Texan jail." [Page 107.] 

port is increasing with wonderful rapidity; tallow and cotton-seed oil-cake are 
important exports; and on my second visit to Galveston I saw the famous 
steamer " Hornet" loading with cattle for Havana. It is proposed to supply the 
West Indian market hereafter entirely with Texan cattle, the transit requiring 
only three days ; and there are large exports of hides and wool. 

The imports are salt, coffee, crockery, iron and tin, and best of all — though 
non-dutiable — a steady current of sturdy Germans, who tame the wildness of 
Texas faster than the natives themselves can do it. Galveston is likely to remain 
the best coffee market in the United States. The importation of lumber from 
Florida, Louisiana, and Northern ports, employs a large number of vessels yearly, 
for Galveston stands in a timberless region; there is not an acre of forest land for 
miles on miles around. 

Thus much for the present commerce of Galveston ; its future would be per- 
fectly certain were it not for the rivalry forced upon neighboring towns by the 
marvelously rapid development of transit lines. Very little fear have the Gal- 
vestonians, the cheery " sand-crabs," as the people of Houston affectionately 
call them, of being "left out in the cold." And they go on building superb 
new avenues, planting their oleanders, and trellising their roses, without any 
worry for the morrow. The rebound since the war has certainly been surprising. 
Galveston was almost depopulated at the close of the great struggle, hardly two 
thousand people remaining there. Let us take a picture or two from the life 
of the " Island City." 

Morning : A bright sunlight on the silver-rippling water, and one catches the 
inspiring breath of the waves. Yonder is a mass of dense foliage, from whose 



green peer out faintest red and purest white, the color of the blossoms and the 
gleam of the house- walls. Here the oleanders have arched their boughs and 
made a shaded walk ; the magnolia towers above a little balconied cottage, on 
whose gate a couple of half-naked negro children are swinging ; a mocking-bird 
is imitating the strange whir of the insect-life about him ; there is very little din 
or rattle of carriages or drays ; the town seems to have wakened lazily, and to 
be lolling in the sun-bath, and rejoicing in the hints of the 

"Salt and spume o' the sea " 

which drift lightly inland. 

At the doors of the Custom-House half-a-dozen negroes are lying with their 
heads upon the broad steps, yawning and joking; at the long, white-painted 
market-sheds, the market-men and women have done their shouting, and relapsed 
into a kind of contented rest as they feel the day's heat coming on ; under the 
wooden awnings in the principal avenues of lighter trade a few black-robed, dark- 
eyed ladies pass quietly to and fro ; and from the sea drifts up the chant of 
dusky watermen loading their mule-carts. 

Noon: From this balcony we can overlook the jail, the cathedral, and the town 
beyond. Primitive enough is this Texan jail — a common two-story brick struc- 
ture — surrounded with a high wall, garnished with cruel glass, set in cement. 
In the jail-yard you may see still life — very still life. The jailer has just let 
the prisoners out from their steaming ovens, and they are stretched on the scant 
grass, a motley crew — an old man, with a hang-dog look, and eyes which seem 
to fear any one's face as he blinks in the sun's glare ; a frowsy, mean negro girl, 
slouched down upon a water-butt, smoking a corn-cob pipe ; and half-a-dozen 
stout black men, hideous in rags and dirt. 

At the jail's front there is a little tower and a kind of mediaeval gate, where 
the prisoners sometimes huddle to watch a passing circus or to note the ad- 
vent of a new prisoner. Invitingly 
near stands the Court-House, whence 
now and then issue legal-looking 
gentlemen, furiously masticating to- 

Beyond the Cathedral, with its 
graceful group of roofs, there is a 
stretch of dusty roadway, and, farther 
still, a herd of young horses quietly 
feeding. Yon dusky horseman means 
to bring them in. Ha ! Like the 
wind they fly — every nerve and sinew 
strained. Escaped? No: The 
black centaur speeds beyond them 
like a flash, and the homeward race 
begins — wild but decisive. Here 
The Catholic Cathedral -Galveston. and there dead Cattle Hc scattered. 


S U N S K T ON T H K B K A C H , 

Here is the very aspect of the San Antonio plains within a mile of the principal 
seaport of Texas. 

Evening : The tide is out, and you may promenade the Gulf shore along a 
hard, unyielding track left by the receded water, and watch the negro fisherman 
as he throws his line horizonward, to see it swirl and fall in the retreating surf to 
come up laden with sc^ly treasure. The blue of the water, the dark of the 
seemingly endless strip of beach, the faint crimson, or the purple, or the gold of 
the sunset sky, form delicious contrasts. A few sails steal seaward like unquiet 
ghosts ; miles away, at a rugged promontory, where the tide is beginning to set 
about and come in again, the sky seems to have come down to kiss the sea, 

"Watch the negro fisherman as he throws his line horizonward." 

SO exquisitely do colors of heaven and water blend ; the long line of carriages 
hurries cityward ; lights seem to spring from the very bosom of the sea, so low 
and trustingly does the little islet-town lie on the Gulf's surface ; the orange- 
trees and the fig-shrubs send forth a delicate perfume in the cool air of the 

The depth of water on the various bars at the ports along the Texan coast is 
so shallow that most of them can never receive the largest shipping; but the 
plan of Captain Howells, the department engineer, for the improvement of the 
entrance to Galveston Bay, is an excellent one, and contemplates the admission 
of vessels drawing eighteen feet of water. 


The merchants of Galveston will hardly be contented until they have Liver- 
pool ships of largest draught at their very docks. They have built a wharf rail- 
road which enables the loading of vessels directly from the cars, avoiding tedious 
transfers. They are also planning for a canal to connect the Rio Grande with 
the Mississippi. This canal would be of immense advantage to South-western 
Louisiana and South-eastern Texas ; and it is estimated that it would bring into 
cultivation nearly 4,000,000 acres of land adapted to the raising of sea-island 
cotton. But this is one of the measures which will probably come with the 
"moving of the Mexican frontier." 

Society in Galveston is good, cultured and refined ; and the standard of 
education is excellent, judging from the large number of institutions of learning 
in the city. The Collegiate Institution, the Catholic College, the Convent for 
Women, the Galveston Female Seminary, the Medical College, and several 
German schools, all have fine reputations. The new Methodist and Episcopal 
churches, and the Cathedral are the finest religious edifices in the State. 

On Tremont street stands the beautiful Opera House, where is also located 
the office of The Galveston Neivs. This paper, founded by Willard Richardson, 
is by far the ablest Democratic journal in Texas, and takes high rank in the 
South-west. Its founder has been conspicuous in aiding by word and work, 
the upbuilding of Texas, and through a long series of years, has published the 
" Texas Almanac," a voluminous and faithful record of the great common- 
wealth's progress. 

Galveston also has its Club, "The Gulf City," frequented by many of the 
prominent citizens of the State. Few cities, with a population of twenty-five 
or thirty thousand are more spirited ; though manufacturing, as a solid basis 
is, nevertheless, a supreme need. 



THE need of manufactures is, indeed, strongly felt throughout Texas. In 
nearly every county farmers and merchants are paying treble and quadru- 
ple the prices they can afford to pay for goods brought thousands of miles, 
whereas, local investment in manufacturing establishments would enable them to 
multiply facilities for agricultural development, and for the comfort and culture of 
which the interior is now so barren. 

Now that transit facilities have come, such an outgrowth of manufactures 
may be looked for. 

The wheat region of Texas comprehends 40,000 square miles. What millions 
of barrels of flour, if proper mills were at hand, might be placed in the market 
two months in advance of consignments from the West! 

Houston has already begun the manufacture of cotton cloth, and applicants 
for situations in the mills are so numerous that the employers are embarrassed by 
them. At Hempstead, New Braunfels, and the State Penitentiary, this manufac- 

"The cotton b'ain is already a familiar spectacle on all the great trunk lin;s." 

ture is prosperous ; yet I doubt if more than $1,000,000 is thus invested in the 
whole State. The people of Texas are learning that they have in their very 
midst all the elements necessary to support life and make it comfortable and 
even luxurious; and they are making a genuine effort to secure and hold 
Northern and Western capital. 

In a few years cotton and woolen mills will rapidly multiply in Texas ; labor 
will be cheap, because of the cheapness of provisions and the ease with which life 
is sustained ; and Northern capital will find one of its most profitable fields in the 
very region which, ten years ago, was hardly counted among the cotton and 
woolen producing sections of the South. The "cotton train" is already a 


familiar spectacle on all the great trunk lines. It is carefully guarded against 
danger from fire by vigilant negroes, and when seen at a distance, crawling 
across the level lands, looks like some huge reptile, from whose nostrils issue 
smoke and steam. 

Houston is one of the most promising of Texan towns. It lies fifty miles 
inland from Galveston, on Buffalo Bayou, and is now the central point of a com- 
plicated and comprehensive railway system. It was christened after the resolute, 
strong-hearted and valiant man whose genius so aided in creating an independent 
Texas, and it cherishes his memory tenderly. It is the ambitious rival of 
Galveston, and because nature has endowed its streets with unusual capacity 
for muddiness, Galveston calls its inhabitants "mud-turtles." A free exchange 
of satiric compliments between the two infant cities is of frequent occurrence. 

In the days of the Texan republic, when Houston was the capital, it was an 
important point. Only fifteen miles below the present town limits, on the banks 
of the picturesque bayou, that republic was born ; for the travail of San Jacinto 
certainly brought it to the light. Audubon, the naturalist, has left a curious 
memorial of Houston as it was during the republic. The residence of President 
Houston was a typical Southern log-cabin, two large frame-works, roofed, and 
with a wide passage-way between. Audubon found the President dressed in a 
fancy velvet coat, and trowsers trimmed with broad gold lace, and was at once 
invited to take a drink with him. All the surroundings were uncouth and dirty, 
in Audubon's eyes ; but he did not fail to recognize that the stern men who had 
planted a liberty pole on that desolate prairie in memory of the battle of San 
Jacinto would make Texas an autonomy. They did their rough work in their 
rough way; but it will stand for all time. The old "Capitol," now a hotel, 
stands on the main street of modern Houston. It is a plain two-story wooden 
structure, painted white; and contains the "Senate Chamber" which once 
resounded to the eloquence of the early heroes. 

Houston was a little settlement which had sprung up near the town of Harris- 
burg, the scene of many dramatic events when the republic was struggling v/ith 
Santa Anna for its life; and the Texan Congress first met there in 1837. 
There, too, was finally and definitely established the first Texan newspaper, 
The Houston Telegraph, an adventurous sheet which had been forced by Mexican 
invasion to flee from town to town, until Houston's victory confirmed its right to 
live. To-day it is one of the institutions of Texas ; has been edited by men of 
rare culture ; showed wonderful enterprise in obtaining news during the war of 
secession, and is a credit to the State. 

My first visit to Houston was in winter. It was late at night when, after a 
long ride from the frontier of the Indian territory, where snow was still on the 
ground, I 

" Dropt into that magic land." 

Stepping from the train, I walked benjath skies which seemed Italian. The 
stillness, the warmth, the delicious dreaminess, the delicate languor were 
most intoxicating. A faint breeze, with a hint of perfume in it, came 

1 12 


through the lattice of my window at the hotel. The magnolias sent their 
welcome ; the roses, the dense beds of fragrant blossoms, exhaled their 
greeting. Roses bloom all winter, and in the early spring and May the 
gardens are filled with them. 

The bayou which leads from Houston to Galveston, and is one of the 
main commercial highways between the two cities, is overhung by lofty and 
graceful maij^nolias ; and in the season of their blossoming, one may sail for 

miles along the 
channel with the 
heavy, passionate 
fragrance of the 
queen flower drift- 
ing about him. 

Houston is set 
down upon prairie 
land; but there are 
some notable nooks 
and bluffs along 
the bayou, whose 
channel barely 
admits the passage 
of the great white 
steamer which plies 
to and from the 
coast. This bayou 
Houston hopes one 
day to widen and 
dredge all the way 
to Galveston ; but 
its prettiness and 
romance will then 
be gone. 

On the morn- 
ing of my arrival 
J was inducted into 
the mysteries of a 
"Norther," which 

" There are some notable nooks and bluffs along the bayou." CamC raving and 

tearing over the town, threatening, to my fancy, to demohsh even the housetops. 
Just previous to the outbreak, the air was clear and the sun was shining, although 
it was cold, and the wind cut sharply. This "dry Norther" was the revulsion 
after the calm and sultry atmosphere of the previous day. A cloud-wave, like a 
warning herald, rose up in the north, and then the Norther himself 

'• Upon the wings of mighty winds 
Came flying all abroad." 



It was glorious, exhilarating, and — icy. Suddenly the cloud vanished; only 
a thin mist remained, and after his brief reign of a brace of hours, the Norther was 
over. He is the physician of malarious districts, from time to time purging them 
thoroughly. Sometimes he blows down houses, trees, and fences, forcing the 
beasts on the plains to huddle together 
for safety; rarely, however, in his cold- 
est and most blustering moods, bring- 
ing the mercury of the thermometer 
below twenty- five degrees. 

Houston is well laid out, and grows 
rapidly, prosperous business houses 
lining its broad Main street. The 
head-quarters of the Masonic lodges 
of the State are there ; the annual State 
Fair, which brings together thousands 
of people from all the counties, every 
May, is held there; and the Germans, 
who are very numerous and well-to-do 
in the city, have their Volks-fests and 
beer-absorbings, when the city takes 

on an absolutely Teutonic air. "The Head-quarters of the Masonic l.d^;:. f the State." 

The colored folk are peaceable and usually well-behaved ; they have had 
something to do with the city government during the reconstruction era, and the 
supervisor of streets, and some members of the city council, at the time of my 
sojourn there, were negroes. The railroads are hastening Houston's prosperity. 
The quiet inhabitants who came to the town a quarter of a century ago, and who, 
frightened by the fancied perils of the Gulf, have never since been back to " the 
States," hear of the route from " Houston to St. Louis in sixty hours," with 

"The railroad depots are everywhere crowded with negroes, immigrants, tourists and speculators." [Page 114.J 



k A ! l. W A V C K N T K K 

superstitious awe. It opens a new country to them. Northern Texas, even, 
seems to them hke a far-off world. They hardly realize that within twenty-four 
hours' ride a new Texas is springing up, which, in commercial glory and power, 
will far surpass the old. 

The future commercial importance of Houston can readily be seen by 
examining its location with regard to railway lines. The Houston and Texas 

Central connects it by a direct line 
with Denison in Northern Texas, with 
the Missouri, Kansas and Texas rail- 
way through the Indian Territory and 
South-western Missouri, and thence by 
the Missouri Pacific with St. Louis. 
The Houston and Great Northern 
route, with which the "International" 
road has been consolidated (the united 
lines taking as a new title the " Inter- 
national and Great Northern"), gives a 
through route from Columbia near the 
coast to Houston, thence to Palestine 
and Longview in Northern Texas, and 
over the "Texas and Pacific," via 

The New Market — Houston. [Page 115.] ht iiiiT-' 1 ^i ai 

Marshall to i exarkana, on the Arkansas 
border. There it connects with the new Cairo and Fulton and Iron Mountain 
route to St. Louis. The Texas and Pacific road also gives it connection with 
Shreveport and with the road projected from that point across Northern Louisiana 
to Vicksburg in Mississippi. Houston is connected 
with Galveston by the Galveston, Houston and 
Henderson road, now under the control of Thomas 
W. Pierce of Boston, who is also building the Gal- 
veston, Harrisburg and San Antonio road, now com- 
pleted to within forty miles of San Antonio. The 
extension of the New Orleans, Mobile and Texas 
railroad through Louisiana to the Texan border will 
be of immense advantage to Houston. 

At the time of my visit there were about i,iOO 
miles of completed railroad in Texas; and the pro- 
jected routes, and surveys, indicated a determination 
to build at least as many more lines, opening up the 
whole of Northern Louisiana, Texas and Arkansas. 
Although the roads have been laid down with sur- 
prising rapidity, they are generally good, and bright 
little towns are springing up at all the junctions and 
termini. The railroad depots are everywhere crowded ^ 
with negroes, immigrants, tourists, and speculators. 

i^-,, II riTT t'-r-< y— 1 "The ragged urchin with his saucy 

Ihe head-quarters oi the Houston and lexas Central, face." [Page 115] 


and of the International and Great Northern roads, are at Houston. The former 
route, of which WiUiam E. Dodge, of New York, is president, was chartered 
in 1848, and had built eighty miles of its line before the war. All the rest has 
been done since i86i, and it now stretches, 340 miles from Houston to the Red 
river, 1 1 5 miles from Hempstead to Austin, the Texan capital, and 45 miles from 
Bremond to Waco, one of the most promising towns of the northern section. 
Galusha A. Grow, the noted Pennsylvania politician, has taken up his abode 
in Texas, and presides over the destinies of the International and Great 
Northern railroad. 

Thus connected with the outer world, Houston grows daily in commercial 
importance, and should be made a prominent manufacturing centre. At present, 
however, there are only the Eureka and Houston City cotton mills, running a few 
thousand spindles ; the various railroad machine and repair shops ; a fine new 
market and opera-house combined ; a few brick yards, beef packeries, and foun- 
dries. In the vicinity, among the pineries along the bayou, there are numbers 

"The negro on hk dray, racing good-humoredly with his fellows." [Page ii6.] 

of steam saw-mills, which furnish lumber to be worked into the "saloons," 
hotels, and shops of the ambitious new towns in the recently opened northern 

There is a frankness Ind cordiality about the society of Houston which is 
refreshing to one coming from the more precise and cautious East ; the manners 
of the people are simple, courteous, delightful ; there are, in the little city, many 
families of culture and social distinction, whose hospitality renders a sojourn 
among them memorable. The Texan of the South is, if possible, possessed of 
more State pride than his brother of Northern Texas: he is never tired of 
declaiming of the beauties of the climate, and is extremely sensitive to criticism. 
Above all, do not tell the Texan maiden that her land is not the fairest ; for the 
women of this Southern commonwealth are even more idolatrous of their beau- 
tiful homes than are the men. There is a touch of defiance in the loving manner 
with which they linger over the praise of Texas; they talk best and look prettiest 
when they are praising "stars which , Northern skies have never known." They 
show the same content with their own section as is found in France, and a leaning 



toward incredulity if one speaks of landscapes more perfect or of flowers more 
rare than those of the "Lone Star State!" 

The street life is interesting ; the negro on his dray, racini; good-humoredly 
with his fellows ; the ragged urchin with his saucy face and his bundle of mag- 
nolia-blossoms ; and the auctioneer's "young man," with mammoth bell and 
brazen voice, are all interesting types, which, as the reader will observe, the 
genial and careful artist has faithfully reproducetl. 

"The auctioneer's young man." 



ABOUT fifteen miles from Houston, on the banks of the bayou, and upon a 
dull, uninteresting plain, is the site of the famous battle of San Jacinto. 
The character of Houston who fought it, annihilating a Mexican force more than 
twice as large as his own, and capturing the redoubtable Santa Anna, is, and 
always will be, the subject of much heated discussion in Texas. 

Few men have ever left such firm friends and such implacable enemies. 
There are two versions of every episode of Texan history with which he was 
connected, his enemies invariably representing him as a man of bad and design- 
ing nature, without special ability, while his friends magnify the real excellence 
of his character into exalted heroism. 

"Sam Houston" was a man of extraordinary merit, sternness, strength of will, 
and was possessed of a foresight quite beyond the ordinary range. He was a 
Virginian by birth, the _^^ 

hardy son of hardier and \ ^ ^ ^- 

noble parents, going in his ' - 

youth with his widowed 
mother to Tennessee, then 
the boundary between the 
white man and the Cherokee 
Indian. His education was 
slight, and, being refused, 
when at school, the privilege 
of learning Greek, which he 
desired after reading a trans- 
lation of the Iliad, he swore 
that he would never recite 
another lesson, and kept his 

He crossed the Tennessee 
river and joined the Indians, 
remaining with them until 
his manhood. Some time 
later he distinguished him- 
self in the war against the 
Creeks, and in 1823 was 
elected to Congress from Sam Houston. 

View on the Trinity River. 


Tennessee. An unfortunate marriage seems finall)' to have decided his career. 
While governor of Tennessee, in 1829, he suddenly separated from his newly 
married wife, resigned his high office, and returned to his friends the Chcrokees. 
After remaining with them for some years he again mingled with white men, 
and in 1833, entering Texas politics, leaped to the front, became the commander- 
in-chief of the Texan armies, and, in the face of the ,. ^^ 
determined opposition of an emigre of 8,000,000 _^ '^^^\ 

hausted men, he charged upon the 

enemy, smote them hip and thigh, trampled them into the morasses and 

bayous, and terribly avenged the Alamo, and its kindred massacres. 

The Texans engaged in the battle numbered 783, and the Mexicans lost 630 
killed ! The next day Santa Anna was found lying prone in the grass near the 
field of battle, — his disgraced head covered with a blanket, — and was made 
prisoner. Texas was effectually wrested from the cruel grasp of Mexico. 

Houston possessed remarkable eloquence and great magnetic power. His 
speech had a certain, majesty about it which was in itself convincing to the popu- 
lar ear. A man of many faults, he was full of the pride and joy of life, although 
at times intemperate and choleric. There are many traditions in Houston of his 
fondness for gaming, his adventures after drinking freely, and his power of control 
over others. When the late war came he stood a magnificent bulwark against 
the waves of secession and indecision, and always spoke his mind. Never, in the 
maddest moments, was he denounced ; hjs person and his opinions were held 
sacred, and he died peacefully at Huntsville before the great struggle was ended. 
In the various portraits extant of him there is as much difference as in the 
opinions of his friends and enemies. The most authentic gives him a keen, 
intellectual face, somewhat softened from its original determination by age and 
repose, but emphatically a manly and powerful one. 

The courtesy of President Grow, of the "International and Great Northern" 
railroad, placed a special train at the disposition of the artist and myself during 
our stay in Houston, and we visited the banks of that charming stream, the 
Trinity river, and the fertile lands beside it ; then turning aside to look at 
the great State Penitentiary, where nearly a thousand convicts are registered, 



more than half of whom are employed, hkc <,ralley slaves, as hewers of wood 
and stone on the railroads and liighways. 

The sight of the "convict train" is one of the experiences of Texan travel 
which still clings like a horrid nightmare in my memory. To come upon it 
suddenly, just at twilight, as I did, at some lonely little station, when the abject, 
cowering mass of black and white humanity in striped uniform had crouched 
down upon the platform cars ; to see the alert watchmen standing at each end of 
every car with their hands upon their cocked and pointed rifles; to see the relaxed 
muscles and despairing faces of the overworked gang, was more than painful. 

Once, when we met this train, a gentleman recognized an old servant, and cried 
out to him, " What, Bill, are you there ?" and the only answer was a shrinking 
of the head, and a dropping of the under jaw in the very paralysis of shame. 


"We frequently passed large gangs of the convicts chopping logs in the forest by the roadside." (Page 120] 

The convict labor is contracted for, and is of great value in the building of 
the railways and the clearing of forests. As a rule, the men are worked from 
dawn to dark, and then conveyed to some near point, to be locked up in cars or 
barracks constructed especially for them. They are constantly watched, working 
or sleeping ; and the records of the Penitentiary show many a name against 
which is written, " Killed while trying to escape." 


We frequently passed large gangs of the convicts chopping logs in the forest 
by the roadside ; they were ranged in regular rows, and their axes rose and fell 
in unison. When they had finished one piece of work, the stern voice of the 
supervisor called them to another, and they moved silently and sullenly to the 
indicated task. In the town where the Penitentiary is located, it is not unusual 
to see convicts moving about the streets, engaged in teaming, carpentry, or 
mason work ; these are commonly negroes, sent to the Penitentiary for trivial 
offences, and denominated "trusties." Sambo and Cuffee have found the way 
of the transgressor unduly hard in Texas and most of the Southern States, since 
the war liberated them. The pettiest larceny now entitles them to the State's 
consideration, and the unlucky blackamoor who is misty as to the proper owner- 
ship of a ragged coat, or a twenty-five cent scrip, runs risk of the " convict 
train" for six months or a year. One good result, however, seems to have 
followed this unrelenting severity ; you may leave your baggage unprotected 
anywhere on the Texan lines of travel, and no one will disturb it. 

A branch line of rail leads from the main trunk of the " International and 
Great Northern" to the Penitentiary, prettily situated among green fields and 
pleasant hills. It is vigilantly guarded everywhere by armed men. Inside, the 
shops are light and cheery, and the men and women, even the " lifers," who 
have stained their hands with blood, look as contented in the cotton spinning 
room as the ordinary factory hand does after a few years of eleven hours' toil 
daily. The prisoners make shoes, clothing, furniture and wagons, weave good 
cottons and woolens, and it is even proposed to set them at building cars. 

The large number of prisoners serving life sentences seemed surprising until^ 
upon looking over the register, we noted the frequency of the crime of murder. 
The cases of murderous assault — classified under the head of "attempt to kill" — 
were generally punished by a term of two to five years; never more. At the 
time of my visit there were seventy persons so sentenced. 

Since the passage of the act making the carrying of concealed weapons 
illegal, these commitments are not so common. Yet the Democratic Legislature 
last assembled — true to its principle of undoing all which had been done by its 
Republican predecessors — would gladly have repealed the law. 

In a, corridor of the Penitentiary I saw a tall, finely-formed man, with 
bronzed complexion, and long, flowing, brown hair — a man princely in carriage, 
and on whom even the prison garb seemed elegant. It was Satanta, the chief of 
the Kiowas, who with his brother chief. Big Tree, is held to account for murder. 
Being presently introduced to a venerable bigamist who, on account of his 
smattering of Spanish, was Satanta's interpreter, I was, through this obliging 
prisoner, presented at court. 

Satanta had stepped into the work-room, where he was popularly supposed 
to labor, although he never performed a stroke of work, and had seated himself 
on a pile of oakum. His fellow-prisoner explained to Satanta, in Spanish, that I 
desired to converse with him, whereupon he rose, and suddenly stretching out 
his hand, gave mine a ponderous grasp, exclaiming as he did so, " How !" He 
then replied through his interpreter to the few trivial questions I asked, and 



again sat down, motioning to me to bo seated, with as much dignity and grace 
as though he were a monarch receiving a foreign ambassador. His face was 
good ; but there was a dehcate curve of pain at the lips which contrasted oddly 
with the strong Indian cast of the other features. Although much more than 
sixty years old, he hardly seemed forty, so erect was he, .so clastic and vigorous. 

When asked if he ever expected liberation, and what he would do if it should 
come, he responded, witli the most stoical indifference, " Quieu sabef' "Big 
Tree" was meanwhile briskly at work in another apartment plaiting a chair seat, 
and vigorously chewing tobacco. His face was clear cut and handsome, his coal 
black hair swept his shoulders, and he paused only to brush it back, give us a 
swift glance, and then turn briskly to his plaiting as before. The course pursued 
toward these Indians seems the proper one ; it is only by imposing upon them 
the penalties to which other residents 
of the State are subject that they can 
be taught their obligations.* 

The Penitentiary in Texas is sat- 
isfactorily conducted, being leased from 
the State by enterprising persons who 
make it a real industrial school, albeit a 
severe one. But certain of the jails in 
the State are a disgrace to civilization, 
and many intelligent people at Austin 
spoke with horror of the manner in 
which criminals were treated in the 
"black-hole" in that place. All the 
barbarities of the Middle Ages seemed 
in force in it. 

There is also a certain contempt for 
the ordinary board or brick county jail, 
manifested by a class of desperadoes 
and outlaws, unhappily not yet extinct in 
the remote sections of the State. During my last visit to Austin, the inhabitants 
were excited over a daring jail delivery effected in an adjacent county by a band 
of outlaws. Some of their fellows had been secured, and the outlaws rode 
to the jail, in broad daylight, attacked it, and rescued the criminals, killing one 
or two of the defenders, and firing, as a narrator told me, with a touch of 
enthusiasm in his voice, "about eighty shots in less 'n three minutes." Not 
long after, tidings were brought us of the descent of an armed body of men 
upon the jail in Brenham, a large and prosperous town, and the rescue of crim- 
inals there. 

As a rule, however, such acts of lawless violence are due more to the careless- 
ness of the law officers in securing their prisoners than to any defiance of law. 
It would be singular if, in a State once so overrun by villains as Texas, there were 

"Satanta had seated himself on a pile of oakum." 

* Satanta and Biir Tree have since been set at liberty. 


no defiant rascals still unhung. Governor Davis, in his last annual message, 
admitted that in four-fifths of the counties the jails were not secure, and that the 
constant escape of prisoners was made the excuse for a too free exercise of lynch 
law upon persons accused of offences. He also added that the jails so constructed 
as to secure the prisoners confined in them were dens unfit for the habitation 
of wild beasts. 

To the credit of Texas, however, it should be said that political bitterness 
rarely, if ever, has any part in the scenes of violence enacted in certain counties ; 
the rude character of the people, and the slow return to organized society 
after the war, being the real causes of the troubles in those regions. Under 
the reconstruction government, law and order had returned, and it is to be hoped 
that the now dominant legislators will do nothing to hinder their supremacy in 
the by-ways as well as the highways of the State. The Democratic Legislature 
can ill afford to undo the wise legislation which established a State police for 
the arrest and punishment of outlaws, and which forbade the carrying of con- 
cealed weapons. 

The little towns along the International and Great Northern railroad are as 
yet very primitive, and constructed upon the same monotonous, stereotyped plan 
as those on the Red river. From Houston to Palestine the road runs through a 
country of great possibilities. On all these new lines the picture is very much 
the same. Let us take one as it looks in the early dawn. 

Morning comes sharply on the great plains, and sends a thrill of joy through 
all nature. The screaming engine frightens from the track a hundred' wild-eyed, 
long-horned cattle that stand for a moment in the swampy pools by the road- 
side, jutting out their heads, flourishing their tails angrily, and noisily bellowing, 
as if resenting the impertinence of the flame-breathing iron monster, and then 
bound away like deer. 

On the slope of a little hill stand a dozen horses, gazing naively at 
the train; a "shrill yell from the steam-throttle sends them careering half a 
mile away, their superb necks extended, their limbs spurning the ground. 
Behind them gallop a hundred pigs, grimy and fierce, snorting impatiently 
at being disturbed. 

In the distance one can see an adroit horseman lassoing the stupid beef 
creature which he has marked for slaughter. He drives it a little apart from the 
herd, and it turns upon him ; a quick twirl of his wrist, and he has thrown the 
deadly noose about its neck; a rapid gallop of a few seconds, and he has tight- 
ened the long rope. The horse seems to enjoy the sport, bracing himself as the 
animal makes a few angry struggles, and then gallops rapidly once more away. 
The poor beef, now in the tortures of suffocation, falls upon his knees and 
staggers blindly and heavily forward, bellowing hoarsely and brandishing his 
horns ; again he falls headlong ; and once more piteously bellows as much as his 
choked throat will permit. The disturbed herd walk slowly and mournfully 
away, huddling together as if for protection. At last the horseman, loosening a 
little the dreadful noose, forces the subdued creature to follow him submissively, 
and so takes him to the slaughter. 



This wonderful expanse of plain, which melts away so delicately into the 
bright blue of the cloudless sky, has inspiration in it. The men and women 
whom one meets at the little stations along the road are alert and vigorous ; 
the glow of health is upon them ; the very horses are full of life, and gallop 
briskly, tossing their heads and distending their nostrils. 

Every half hour we reach some small town of board shanties, crowned with 
ambitious signs. Each of these hamlets is increasing weekly by fifties and 
hundreds in population. As the train passes, the negroes gather in groups to 
gaze at it until it disappears in the distance. At one lonely little house on the 
edge of a superb wheat country a group of Germans, newly come, is patiently 

"As the train passes, the negroes gather in groups to gaze at it until it disappears in the distance." 

waiting transportation into the interior. The black- gowned, bare-headed women 
are hushing the babies and pointing out to each other the beauties of the strange 
new land. 

Not far away is the timber line which marks the course of a little creek, 
whose romantic banks are fringed with loveliest shrubbery. A log cabin's 
chimney sends up a blue smoke-wreath, and a tall, angular woman is cutting 
down the brush near the entrance. A little farther on, half-a-dozen small tents 
glisten in the morning sun ; the occupants have just awoke, and are crawling out 
t© bask in the sunshine and cook their coffee over a fire of twigs. The air is 
filled with joyous sounds of birds and insects, with the tinkling of bells, with the 
rustling of leaves, with the rippling of rivulets. One longs to leave the railroad, 
and plunge into the inviting recesses which he imagines must lie within reach. 


The Houston and Texas Central railroad route runs through neither a bold 
nor broken country, but is bordered for at least a hundred miles by exquisite 
foliage and thickets. At Hearne, 120 miles from Houston, it meets the Intcna- 
tional line running to Longview, and furnishing the route to Jefferson, at the head 
of the chain of lakes extending to Shreveport, in Louisiana. 

These lakes were formed by the obstructions created by the Red river 
raft, and Jefferson has become, by the diversion of the waters of this river from 
their natural channel, the head of navigation in that section. An important 
steamboat commerce with New Orleans, St. Louis, >and Cincinnati has sprung up 
here, and Jefferson now exports nearly 100,000 bales of cotton annually. Before 
the Texas Pacific railroad branch from Marshall was completed, 20,000 wagons 
freighted with cotton yearly entered the town. Though the war found Jefferson 
a miserable collection of one-story shanties, it is now a city of 10,000 inhabit- 
ants, with elegant brick buildings, and a trade of $20,000,000 annually. To 
what it may grow, now that it is connected with the direct route to St. Louis, and 
that 15,000 square miles of territory in Northern Texas are opened to settlement, 
no one can tell. Marshall not only enjoys much the same advantages as Jefferson, 
but is the head-quarters in Texas of the great Texas and Pacific railway which 
the famous Scott is stretching across the country to El Paso, and which is already 
completed beyond Dallas. The same genius now presides over the destinies of 
the Transcontinental line, to run through the upper counties from Texarkana to 
Fort Worth, where the two routes are merged in the main line, which shoots out 
thence straight to the Mexican frontier. 

The International railroad as originally planned was to extend via Austin 
and San Antonio into Mexico; but a Democratic Legislature refused to accord 
the aid offered by its Republican predecessor. 

North-eastern Texas has extensive iron interests, and, throughout the counties 
in the vicinity of Jefferson, large foundries are grouping villages around them. 
These beds of iron ore, lying so near the head of steamboat navigation, are 
destined to an immense development. All the north of the State is rich in 

In the wild Wichita regions, where exploring parties have braved the Indians, 
there is an immense copper deposit, continuing thence hundreds of miles, even to 
the Rio Grande. The copper ore from some of the hills has been tested, and 
will yield fifty-five per cent, of metal. Notwithstanding even the expense of 
transporting ore 500 miles by wagon, the copper mines of Archer County have 
proved profitable. All the requisites for building furnaces and smelting the ores 
exist in the immediate vicinity of the deposits. The whole copper region is 
exquisitely beautiful. The mountains are bold and romantic ; the valleys 
mysterious and picturesque; the plains covered with flowers — and Indians! 
But who will let the ignoble savage stand in the way of mineral development ? 

The Indian troubles in North-western Texas are quite as grave as those in the 
extreme western part of the State. Now and then an adventurous frontiersman 
is swept down by the remorseless savage, who seems to delight in waiting until 
his victim fancies he has attained security before murdering him and his family. 


Government should certainly afford better protection to the settler on the 
extreme frontier — by some other method if it cannot do it by means of the 
regular army. 

Waco, now a fine town, on a branch of the Texas Central, was once an 
Indian village, and, long ago, was the scene of a formidable battle between the 
Wacos and some Cherokee forces. The noble Wacos had acquired, in a surrepti- 
tious manner, a good many Cherokee ponies, and, in the pursuit and battle 
which followed, the Waco village was plundered and burned, and extensive forti- 
fications — traces of which still remain — were heaped with the conquered thieves' 
dead bodies. Waco, situated on the Brazos river, is to-day a handsome, solidly- 
built town, possessing many manufacturing establishments. Throughout all the 
adjacent region stock-raising is fast giving way to agriculture ; and great fields 
of cotton, corn and cane are springing into existence. Every one has heard of 
Dallas, set down on the banks of the Trinity river, and contributed to by the 
great feeders of the Texas Central and Texas Pacific. It grows like an 
enchanted castle in a fairy tale. Dallas is the centre of Northern Texas ; has 
superb water power, and lumber, coffee, iron, lead, and salt fields to draw upon. 
In the midst of the rich, undulating prairies, and near a plateau covered with 
noble oaks, elms and cedars, it promises to be beautiful as well as prosperous. It 
is also one of the centres of the wheat region, some of the finest wheat lands on 
the continent being in its vicinity. The absolutely best wheat region is said to 
be in Lamar, Hunt, Kaufman, and Navarro counties. 

The eastern corners of the lands now settled in Northern Texas Avere nearly 
all held by emigrants from Alabama, Georgia, and Mississippi until the railroad's 
advent, when the North-westerner joined them in the country, and the Northerner 
mingled with them in the towns. Slavery flourished there before the war, and 
the revolution improved neither the negro nor his old master much; so that both 
are gradually yielding before the new-comers. 

In the northern and middle counties, however, slavery never was popular. 
Some 3,000 families from Indiana and Illinois were introduced into those 
counties between 1843 and 1854. They owned no slaves and never desired 
any; and the influence of their example was good even before emancipation 
came. Hundreds of intelligent and cultured families live there, happy and 
well-to-do, sowing their wheat and rye in October, and reaping it in June ; 
planting corn in February, to harvest in September ; and raising great herds of 
cattle and horses. 

The black, sandy lands are admirably suited for orchards and vineyards ; and 
the " black- waxy," — a rich alluvial, — for all the cereals. As all the cotton lands 
of Northern Texas will readily produce a bale to the acre, how many years will 
pass before the cotton crop of the Lone Star State will be 10,000,000 bales? 

The labor question is to be an engrossing one in Texas very soon. The 
proportion of the colored to the entire population being small, the negroes' share 
in the labor of cultivation is, of course, not large. The Chinaman is already at 
St. Louis ; the completion of the Texas Pacific railroad will establish him 
along the whole Texan coast. At present, in great numbers of the counties, 


there is hardly one ne^ro to fifty white people, so that Cuffee stands no whit in 
the way of John. 

With one single field of coal covering 6,ooo square miles ; with apparently 
inexhaustible copper and iron stores; with lead and silver mines; with 20,000,000 
of acres of cotton-bearing land, and with agricultural resources equal to those of 
any State in the Union, Texas can enter upon her new career confidently and 
joyously. As a refuge for the ruined of our last great revolution, she is benefi- 
cent ; as an element of greatness in the progress of the United States, she has no 
superior. She has peculiar advantages over her sister Southern States. While 
they vainly court emigration, the tide flows freely across her borders, and 
spreads out over her vast plains. Whatever danger there may be of political 
disagreements and disturbances within her limits, nothing can permanently 
impede her progress. Lying below the snow line, she furnishes the best route 
to the Pacific ; fronting on the Gulf, she will some day have a commercial navy, 
whose sails will whiten every European sea. 

Few persons who have not visited the South appreciate the vast extent of 
territory which the Texas and Pacific route has opened up. Its most beneficent 
work will be the chasing of the Indian from the vicinity of the " cross-timber " 
country, which is an excellent location for small farmers. The settlers there are 
bravely holding on to their lands, keeping up a continual warfare with the red- 
skins, in hopes that they may preserve their lives until the advent of the rail. 

The Indian reserves in this section of the State have, according to the 
testimony of competent authorities, all been failures, whether considered as 
protection to the white man or as a means of civilization to the Indian. For ten 
years the savage has been master of all that part of Texas. The new Pacific 
route will not only send a civilizing current through there, but will also develop 
a portion of the great " Staked Plain " territory, now one of the unknown and 
mysterious regions of Northern Texas. The Transcontinental branch is doing 
good pioneer work in new counties. It also runs through some of the oldest 
and most cultured sections of the State. 

Clarksville, in Red River county, has long been a centre of inteUigence and 
refinement; it was settled early in 1817, and in i860 had under cultivation nearly 
17,000 acres of corn and 8,000 acres of cotton. It is noteworthy that in this 
county lands which have been steadily cultivated for fifty years show no depreci- 
ation in quality. Paris, a handsome town in Lamar county, is also touched by 
this line. These towns and counties offer a striking contrast to other portions of 
the northern section which lie within a day's journey of them. They are like 
oases, but the rest of the apparent desert is being so rapidly reclaimed, that they 
will soon be noticeable no longer. By all means let him who wishes to cultivate 
fruit, cotton, or the cereals in Texas visit these elder counties. 



MY various journeys to Austin, the capital of Texas, enabled me to judge 
of its winter and summer aspects, and I do not hesitate to pronounce 
them both delightful. The town itself is not so interesting at first sight as either 
Galveston or Houston ; but every day adds to the charm which it throws about 
the visitor. At Austin the peculiarities of Western and Eastern Texas meet and 
compromise ; one sees the wild hunter of the plains and the shrewd business 
man of the coast 
side by side in 
friendly inter- 
course. The ma- 
jority of the 
public buildings 
are not architect- 
urally fine ; the 
Capitol, the Land 
Office, the Gov- 
ernor's Mansion, 
are large and com- 
modious, but not 
specially interest- 
ing. But a touch 
of the grand old 
Spanish architect- 
ure has crept into Ihe state Capitol— Ausun 

the construction of the Insane Asylum, which is built of the soft gray sand- 
stone so abundant in that region ; and the edifice, standing in a great park, 
whose superb trees seem to have been cultured for centuries, rather than to be 
mere gifts of nature, is very beautiful. 

It is, however, overcrowded with unfortunates, and the State's imperative 
duty is to build another asylum at once. Under the rich glow of the February 
sun the white walls of the structure formed a delicious contrast to the foliage of 
the live oaks near at hand, making it seem rhore like a temple than like the 
retreat of clouded reason. In wandering through the wards I. came suddenly 
upon a group of idiot girls, seated on benches in a niche before a sunny window. 
These poor creatures cowered silently — grimacing now and then — as I stood 
gazing upon them, when suddenly one or two of them, doubtless excited by the 




presence of a visitor, rose and began dancing and shrieking. The suddenness of 
the transition, and the fearful, mysterious nature of these idiotic saturnaHa, 
appalled me. I avow that I could hardly drag my limbs to the door, ana when 
once more in the sunlight I felt as if I had come from Dante's Hell. The 
-dsw.^^~— -- cheery German physician in charge 

...- ■ ;|;^ "^ complained of the overcrowded con- 

dition of the asylum, adding that as 
the majority of the cases brought him 
had already become chronic, it was a 
hopeless throng with which he had 
to deal. 

In a yard of the asylum, comfort- 
ably inclosed, and covered by a pic- 
turesque roof upon which a vine had 
been trained, I saw the sty in which 
"Queen Elizabeth," a filthy and dread- 
ful old negress, wallowed all day long. 
Behind green lattices neatly set into 
the walls of another building, I could 
hear the furiously insane groaning and 

The State Insane Asylum- Austin. shouting. It is Said that there are 

more than i,2oo insane in the State, for most of whom an asylum is necessary. 

Not far from the Lunatic Asylum, in another beautiful nook, is the institution 
for the blind, which comprises a school for the industrial' training of the patients 
whose vision is hopelessly lost. The Colorado river flows to the westward of 
Austin, close to the city, issuing from 
a romantic mountain range, a long 
gap in which forms what is known 
as the Colorado Valley; and on 
the west bank of the river is an effi- 
cient and pleasant school and home 
for the deaf and dumb of the State. 

One of the notable sights of 
Austin, too, is the well-drilled little 
company of cadets from the "Texas 
Military Institute," originally located 
at Bastrop, but now situated on a 
lovely hill -side near the capital. 
The school, which is one of general 
and applied science, is modeled after 
West Point and the Virginia Military Institute, and can receive one hundred 
cadets, whose gray uniformed company is often seen in martial array in the 
lanes and fields near the town. 

Austin is very prettily set down in an amphitheatre of hills, beyond which 
rises the blue Colorado range. The little town, which boasts " from 8,000 to 

The Texas Military Institute — Austin 



10,000 inhabitants," is very lively during the legislative session. One passenger 
train daily, each way, connects it with the outer world ; beyond are the 
mesquite-covered plains, and only wagon roads. 

The governor, whose term of office lasts four years, has a special mansion, 
which was the president's house when Austin was the capital of the Texan 
republic ; and the surroundings of his office at the Capitol are of Spartan plain- 
ness.' In both the Senate and the House of Representatives I noticed a good 
deal of the freedom of Western and South-western manners, which would be 
counted strange in the older States. There were no objections, apparently, to 
the enjoyment of his cigar by any honorable senator on the floor of the Senate, 
if the session was not actually in progress ; senators sat with their feet upon their 
desks, and the friendly spittoon handy ; but these are eccentricities which prevail 
in many a State beside Texas. There 
were men of culture and refinement in 
the Senate, others who were coarse in 
manners and dress ; the president was 
amiable and efficient. One or two 
negroes occupied senatorial chairs, 
although the Thirteenth Legislature, 
which I saw, was almost entirely Dem- 
ocratic. The House of Representatives 
was a sensible, shrewd - looking body 
of men, with no special Southern type ; 
a Northerner might readily have im- 
agined himself in a New England 
legislature during the session, save for 
certain peculiarities of dialect. Here, 

also, there were negroes, more numer- The Governor's Mansion— Austin. 

ous than in the Senate, and mingling somewhat more freely in the business 
of the session. The portraits of Austin and Houston looked down benignantly 
upon the lawgivers. 

Texas went through a variety of vexatious trials during the period between 
the close of the war and the election of what is known as the "Davis party." 
A. J. Hamilton was appointed provisional governor by President Johnson, but 
surrendered his power in 1866 into the hands of Governor Throckmorton, the 
successful " Conservative Union" candidate, who was elected after the adoption 
of a new State constitution by a majority of more than 36,000 votes over E. M. 
Pease, the "Radical" candidate. The advent of reconstruction brought Texas 
into the Fifth Military District with Louisiana, and under the control of General 
Sheridan. In 1867 Governor Throckmorton, who was considered an "obstacle" 
to reconstruction, was removed, and the defeated candidate Pease made governor 
in his stead. During his administration, he had a controversy with General 
Hancock, who had meantime been appointed commander of the district in place 
of Sheridan, and was prevented from undertaking several arbitrary measures 
which the military authorities deemed inexpedient at that time. 


The new registration which came into force in Texas, as elsewhere in the 
South, reduced the number of white voters from 80,000 to a Httle less than 
57,000. A second Constitutional Convention was held in June of 1868, in 
obedience to an order from the army authorities, then represented by General 
Rousseau, who succeeded General Hancock in command. This convention was 
presided over by Edmund J. Davis, an uncompromising loyal man, who had once 
had a Confederate rope around his neck in war-time. The State was at that 
time in a very bad condition. Murder and lawlessness were rampant; it was 
said that there had been nine hundred homicides in the State between 1865 and 
1868. The Conservative and Radical wings of the Republican party had much 
sharp discussion in the convention, which was finally adjourned until the last 
days of November. Meantime, the differences of opinion between the wings 
of the party brought forward Mr. Davis as the Radical, and A. J. Hamilton as 
the Conservative candidate for governor. The constitution was submitted to the 
people in November, and ratified by more than 67,000 majority. Mr. Davis and 
his party were at the same time elected to power, and the military force was 

Governor Davis certainly succeeded in restoring order and maintaining peace 
in the State during the four years of his administration, although some of his 
measures were bitterly opposed. He inaugurated the militia act, which the 
Democrats of course fought against. It was an act delegating to the governor 
the power to suspend the laws in disturbed districts, and was perfectly efficient in 
the only three cases in which it was ever resorted to. During his term, also, the 
" State Police" — a corps for the maintenance of order throughout the State — 
was established, and did much to rid Texas of outlaws and murderers. 

A tax-payers' convention, held at Austin in September, 1871, united all the 
elements of opposition against the Davis party. Ex- Governors Throckmorton, 
Pease and Hamilton participated in it. The Democrats re-organized, and suc- 
ceeded in securing the Legislature, which is elected annually in Texas. Toward 
the close of Governor Davis's term, as the tenure of office of some of the State 
officials was involved in doubt, the Legislature passed an act providing for a 
general election in December. A new and vehement political contest at once 
sprang up. The Republicans renominated Governor Davis, and the Democrats, 
who had been powerfully reinforced by thousands of immigrants from Alabama, 
Georgia, and other cotton States, put forward Judge Richard Coke as their can- 
didate. In the election which followed, the Democrats elected Judge Coke as 
governor by more than 40,000 majority ; and the State was completely given 
over to the Conservative element. 

This election caused great excitement among the Republicans. Governor 
Davis, backed up by the declaration of the Supreme Court of the State that 
the recent election was unconstitutional, at first refused to yield his power, 
and called on the President for troops to maintain him in office. But the United 
States declined to interfere ; the Democrats took possession of the Capitol ; and 
Governor Davis finally withdrew his opposition. The Democrats propose in due 
time to hold another Constitutional Convention, and threaten to undo much of 



the legislation which, under reconstruction and the regime of the Radicals, had 
proved salutary to the State. 

On the steps of the Capitol stands the small and unambitious monument 
built of stone brought from the Alamo. It is but a feeble memorial of one of the 
most tragic events in American history, to which 
the State would do well to give lasting commem- 
oration by some stately work in bronze or 
marble on Alamo plaza, in San Antonio. 

In the office of the Sccretar}^ of State at 
Austin, one may still see the treaties made 
with France, England, and other nations, when 
Texas was a republic, when Louis Phillippe was 
King of the French, and Victoria was young. 
Three years after Texas had declared her inde- 
pendence of Mexico, the commissioners ap- 
pointed under President Lamar's Administration 
selected the present site on the Colorado as the 
capital, and, in grateful remembrance of the 
"father of Texas," called it Austin. It seems, 
indeed, strange that it has not grown to the 
proportions the commissioners then predicted for 
it ; for the best of building stone and lime and 
stone-coal abound in the vicinity, and it has an 
immense and fertile back-country to draw upon. 

• ""' . i'r. ' 
The Alamo Monument — Austin. 

These same commissioners 
also fondly hoped, by building the town, effectually to close the pass by 
which Indians and outlaws from Mexico had from time immemorial traveled to 
and from the Rio Grande and Eastern Texas. In October, 1839, President 
Lamar's Cabinet occupied Austin, — and, although Indian raids in the neigh- 
borhood were frequent, the brave little government remained there. Those 
were great days for Texas, — a State with hardly the population of one of her 
counties to-day, yet holding independent relations with the civilized world. 

The European governments had their representatives at the Court of Austin, 
while hosts of adventurers thronged the Congressional halls. Gayly- uniformed 
officers of the Texan army and navy abounded ; and the United States daily felt 
the pulse of the people as to annexation. Once in a while there was a dip- 
lomatic muddle and consequent great excitement, as when, — the owner of some 
pigs which had been killed for encroaching on the French Minister's premises 
having abused said minister in rather heated language, — Louis Phillippe felt 
himself insulted, and very nearly ruined the infant republic by preventing it from 
obtaining what was then known as the "French Loan." 

The Texan government in those early days had always been a great strag- 
gler, moving from town to town, and when, in 1842, the Administration 
proposed to remove the archives to Houston, because a Mexican invasion was 
feared, the citizens of Austin revolted, and General Houston, the then President, 
was compelled to leave the records where they were. 


In the Secretary of State's office I was shown the original ordinance for the 
secession of Texas from the Union, — a formidable parchment, graced with a 
long list of names, — and a collection of the newspapers printed in the State 
during the war, a perusal of which showed that there are several sides to the 
history of all our battles, and that in those days the Texans were taught that the 
Confederates invariably won. 

The four presidents of the Texan republic, Burnet, Houston, Lamar and 
Jones, were all strong men, but of widely different character. Lamar was a 
brilliant writer and talker, clear-headed and accomplished ; Jones was an intel- 
lectual man, bitter against the Houston party, and to judge from his own 
memoirs, jealous and irritable. He died by his own hand. 

The population of Texas has increased, since its annexation to the Union in 
1845, from 150,000 to more than a million of inhabitants. Its principal growth 
has, of course, been since the war, for before that time Northern Texas was as 
much a wilderness as is Presidio county to-day. The greatest needs of the State 
at the present time are more people, and more improvement along the lines of 
travel. The coarse cookery, bad beds, and villainous liquor-drinking which one 
now finds in remote towns will vanish when people and manufactures and 
inducements to ease and elegance come in. 

A favorable sign on the railroads is the occasional entrance of some rough 
fellow into the Pullman car, and his intense enjoyment of it. I recall now, 
vividly, the gaunt drover who went to bed before dark in one of the berths of a 
palace car one evening between Austin and Hempstead. " Never was in one 
of these tricks befo','' he said ; " I reckon I'll get my money's worth. But look 
yere," he added, to a gentleman near him, confidentially, " if this train should 
bust up now, where'd the balance of ye go to, d'ye reckon ?" He appeared to 
think the berth a special protective arrangement, and that he was perfectly safe 

The negro and the Mexican are both familiar figures in Austin, and the 
negro seems to do well in his free state, although indulging in all kinds of queer 
freaks with his money ; he saves nothing. Sometimes he undertakes long 
journeys without the slightest idea where he is going, and finding he has not 
money enough to return, locates anew. As a rule, he does not acquire much 
property, expending his money on food and raiment — much of the former, and 
little of the latter. The commercial travelers in Texas all carry large stocks of 
confectionery, with which, when they fail to tempt Sambo to expend his little 
hoard in any other manner, they generally manage to exhaust his means. There 
is no idea of economy in the Texan negro's head. On the Texas railroads, the 
candy venders are allowed to roam at large through the trains and practice the 
old swindle of prize packages, by which they invariably deplete the darkey's 
purse. They display the tempting wares, and hint at the possibility of gold 
dollars and greenbacks in the packages ; of course, appetite triumphs, and 
Sambo falls. 

The Land Office is one of the important institutions of Texas, and a main 
feature of Austin. The United States has no government lands in the common- 




wealth ; and the land system, although somewhat complicated, on account of 
the various colonization laws and old titles acquired under them, is a good one. 
In the Land Office there is an experienced corps of men, who have the history 
of each county and its records at their fingers' ends, and who can trace any old 
title back to its Spanish source. Plans of all the counties, and every homestead 
on them, are also to be seen. This, in a State where tlie counties comprise areas 
of from 900 to 1800 square miles each, is of the utmost importance to persons 
buying land and wishing to establish a clear title to it ; although, as a general 
rule, the settler who acquires land under the preemption laws of the State, has 
no trouble, and runs no risk. 

An attempt was once made to sectionize all the State public lands, — now 
amounting to nearly 90,000,000 of acres, — and to offer them, as the United States 
does, in open market, but it was thought wiser to continue the original plan. 
The legislation of Texas favors preemption, and the new settler had best go with 
it ; but he may also become the legal owner of a portion of the public domain 
by "locating a land certificate," at from 
thirty- five to sixty -five cents in gold 
per acre, and then proving his title to 
it by forming a perfect chain of deeds 
from the original grantee down to him- 
self In doing this the facilities afforded 
by the Land Office are, of course, in- 
valuable. The State Bureau of immi- 
gration, located at Galveston, has com- 
missioners constantly in the Southern 
and Western States, and in Europe, 
soliciting immigrants to take up the 
millions of acres in the Western and 
Northern parts of the State. Judging 
from the statistics of 1872-3, I should 
say that fully three thousand persons 
monthly land at Galveston, coming from the older Southern States. How little 
we at the North have known, in these last few years, of this great, silent 
e.xodus, this rooting up from home and kindred, which the South has seen, and 
the anguish of which so many brave hearts have felt ! But your true 
American is peripatetic and migratory, so that perhaps the struggle is less 
intense with him than with the Europeans who crowd our shores. 

Texas owes but little money — a trifle more than $1,500,000- — ^and her tax- 
able property, which was estimated in 187 1 at $220,000,000, and was tlien 
thought to be undervalued, must now be nearly $300,000,000. In most respects 
the outlook of the State is exceedingly good ; certainly as favorable for immigra- 
tion as the majority of the States of the West. The grand middle ground, more 
than 1,000 miles in extent, between the Atlantic and the Pacific, it must be 
covered with railroads in every direction ; and even the barbarity of the savages 
can last but little lonfjer. 

The Land Office of Texas — Austin. 


Journalism has had an astonishing growth in Texas since the war. Out of 
140 newspapers now printed in the State, no have been started since the close 
of the great struggle. Most of the small new towns have two or three papers 
each, and support them handsomely. The proprietor of a weekly journal, in one 
of the mushroom cities, told me that five columns of his paper paid him $6,000 
clear profit yearly. 

Everybody — merchant, gambler, railroad contractor, clergyman, desperado — 
patronizes the newspaper, and pays large prices for advertising. The majority of 
the papers are Democratic, but in the cities the Republicans usually have influen- 
tial organs. " Democratic" does not always mean a full support of the party, but 
a kind of independent journalism, to which the air of Texas is more conducive 
than even that of the North. The Age and Union in Houston, the Civilian, Post, 
and Standard in Galveston, the Times in Jefferson, the Reporter in Tyler, and the 
State Journal, Gazette, and Statesman in Austin, and the Red River Journal in 
Denison, are among the principal newspapers published either daily or tri- 
weekly. Almost every county has an excellent weekly, filled with enthusiastic 
editorials on the development of the State, and appeals to the people to appre- 
ciate their advantages. The Germans have also established several influential 
journals both in Western and Eastern Texas; and all of them are very prosperous. 
In Galveston, Houston, and all the principal towns there are elegantly-appointed 
German book-stores, whose counters are freighted weekly with the intellectual 
novelties of the Old Country. 

The school question, so seriously and severel}/ disputed in all the Southern 
States, has created much discussion in Texas ; and, indeed, the people do well to 
occupy themselves with the subject; for it is estimated that in 1873 there were 
yet in the State 70,895 white, and 150,617 colored persons over ten years of age 
who could neither read nor write. This appalling per centage of ignorance is 
gradually decreasing under the beneficent workings of the new system, which 
came in with reconstruction, and to which there was, of course, a vast deal of 

Texas has always been reasonably liberal in matters of education ; as early as 
1829 the laws of Coahuila and Texas made provisions for schools on the Lancas- 
trian plan ; the republic inaugurated the idea of a bureau of education, and its 
Congress took measures for establishing a State university. After annexation, 
free public schools were established, and supported by taxation on property. In 
1868 the reconstruction convention established a school fund amounting to more 
than $2,000,000; and in April, 1871, the Legislature passed an Act organizing 
a system of public free schools, and the schools were begun in September of the 
same year. 

The opposition to them took the form of complaint of the taxes, and in most of 
the leading cities the courts were overrun with petitions asking that collection of 
the school tax be restrained. In this manner the progress of the system has been 
very much embarrassed. The Texan of the old regime cannot understand how 
it is right that he should be taxed for the education of his neighbor's children ; 
neither is he willincf to contribute to the fund for educating his former bondsmen. 



There have been at different times about 127,000 pupils in the pubHc schools 
of the State, and the average number taught during the year is 80,000, while the 
whole number of children in the commonwealth is estimated at 228,355. During 
the first year of the application of the system, over 6,500 teachers were examined 
and accepted. The number of colored pupils in the public schools cannot be 
accurately determined, and mixed schools seem to be nowhere insisted upon. 
In many counties where the opposition to the payment of the tax was persistent, 
the schools were forced to close altogether. 

in the large towns, as in Houston, the Germans have united with the 
leading American citizens in inaugurating subscription schools in which the 
sexes are separated, and have introduced into them some of the best German 
methods. There has been much objection to the compulsory feature of the 

"The emigrant wagon is a familiar sight there." I Page 136.] 

free system, parents furiously defending their right to leave their children 
in ignorance. Texas needs, and intends soon to found, a university and an 
agricultural college. The latter should be opened at once. There are a good 
many thriving denominational schools scattered through the counties ; the 
Baptists have universities at Independence and Waco ; the Presbyterians at 
Huntsville ; the Lutherans at Columbus ; the Methodists at Chappell Hill ; 
and the Odd Fellows have a university at Bryan. Wherever the public 
school has been established there is a private one which is patronized by all 
the old settlers, who thus gratify their desire for exclusiveness, and embarrass 
the growth of the free system. 

Between Austin and Hempstead the river Brazos is crossed, and not far from 
its banks stands the populous and thriving town of Brenham, in Washington 


county, one of the wealthiest and most thickly settled in the State. The beauty 
of the famous La Bahia prairie has not been exaggerated ; I saw its fertile lands 
where the great oaks stood up like mammoth sentinels ; where the pecan-tree, 
the pride of Texas, and one of the noblest nionarchs of the sylvan creation, 
spread his broad boughs ; where the cotton-wood, the red cedar, and the ash shot 
up their noble stems; where the magnolia and the holly swore friendship; where 
the tangled canebrake usurped the soil, and where upon the live oak the grape- 
vine hung lovingly encircling it with delicate leaves and daintiest tendrils. How 
fair, too, were the carefully cultivated lands, hedged in with the Osage orange 
and the rose, the vineyards and the pleasant timber lines along the creeks ! 
What beautiful retreats by the Brazos ! One might fancy himself in the heart of 
the richest farming sections of England. Tobacco, rye, hops, hemp, indigo, 
flax, cotton, corn, wheat and barley, as well as richest grapes, can be profitably 
grown ; deer bound through the forests, wild turkeys stalk in the thickets, and 
grouse and quails hide in the bosquets. The emigrant wagon is a familiar sight 
there, and the wanderers from the poorer Southern States find that this rich tract 
realizes their wildest dreams of Texas. In this section small farms are rapidly 
increasing in number, land being rented to new-comers unable to buy. 

One's senses are soon dulled by satiety. When I first- traversed Texas, fresh 
from the white, snow-covered fields of the North, how strange seemed the great 
cypresses, hung with bearded moss ; the tall grasses rustling so uncannily ; the 
swamps, with their rank luxuriance and thousands of querulous frogs ; the clumps 
of live oaks, and the tangled masses of vines ! 

But a winter in the South had familiarized me with all these things, and on 
my return I sought in vain the impressions of my earlier trip. Extraordinary 
rural charms are like the perfume of the jessamine. At first it intoxicates the 
senses, but, as familiarity grows, it ceases to attract attention. Even absence 
will not restore its sweetness and subtlety. 



GALUSHA A. Grow, once speaker of the national House of Representatives, 
and now the energetic and successful manager of a railroad in the Lone 
Star State, has changed the once memorable words, " Go to Texas !" from a 
malediction into a beneficent recommendation. The process was simple : he 
placed the curt phrase at the head of one of those flaming posters which railway- 
companies affect, and associated it with such ideas of lovely climate and pros- 
pective prosperity, that people forthwith began to demand if it were indeed true 
that they had for the last twenty years been fiercely dismissing their enemies 
into the very Elysian Fields, instead of hurling them down to Hades. 

The world is beginning to learn something of the fair land which the adven- 
turous Frenchmen of the seventeenth century overran, only to have it wrested 
from them by the cunning and intrigue of the Spaniard ; in which the Fran- 
ciscan friars toiled, proselyting Indians, and building massive garrison missions ; 
which Aaron Burr dreamed of as his empire of the south-west ; and into which 
the "Republican" army of the North marched, giving presage of future 
American domination. 

Austin and his brave fellow - colonists rescued Texas from the suicidal 
policy of the Mexican Government, and the younger Austin accepted it as 
his patrimony, elevating it from the degraded and useless condition in which the 
provincial governors had held it. Under his lead, it spurned from its side its 
fellow-slave, Coahuila, and broke its own shackles, throwing them in the 
Mexican tyrant Guerrero's face ; its small but noble band of mighty men 
making the names of San Felipe, of Goliad, of the Alamo, of Washington, of 
San Jacinto, immortal. 

It crushed the might of Santa Anna, the Napoleon of the West ; it wrested 
its freedom from the hard hands of an unforgiving foe, and maintained it, as an 
isolated republic, commanding the sympathy and respect of the world ; it placed 
the names of Houston, of Travis, of Fannin, of Bowie, of Milam, of Crockett, 
upon the roll of American heroes and faithful soldiers, and brought to the 
United States a marriage-gift of two hundred and thirty-seven thousand square 
miles of fertile land. 

The world is beginning to know something of this gigantic south-western 
commonwealth which can nourish a population of 50,000,000 ; whose climate 
is as charming as that of Italy ; whose roses bloom and whose birds sing all 


winter long ; whose soil can yield the fruits of all climes, and whose noble 
coast-line is broken by rivers which have wandered two thousand miles in 
and out among Texan mountains and over vast Texan plains. It is a region 
of strange contrasts in peoples and places : you step from the civilization 
of the railway junction in Denison to the civilization of Mexico of the seven- 
teenth century in certain sections of San Antonio ; you find black, sticky land 
in Northern Texas, incomparably fertile ; and sterile plains, which give the 
cattle but scant living, along the great stretches between the San Antonio 
and the Rio Grande. 

You may ride in one day from odorous, moss-grown forests, where everything 
is of tropic fullness, into a section where the mesquite and chaparral dot the 
gaunt prairie here and there ; or from the sea-loving populations of Galveston 
and her thirty- mile beach, to peoples who have never seen a mast or a wave, and 
whose main idea of water is that it is something difficult to find and agreeable as 
a beverage. 

The State has been much and unduly maligned ; has been made a by- word 
and reproach, whereas it should be a source of pride and congratulation. It has 
had the imperfections of a frontier community, but has thrown off the majority of 
them even while the outer world supposed it to be growing worse and worse. 
Like some unfamiliar fruit supposed to be bitter and nauseous, it has gone on 
ripening in obscurity until, bursting its covering, it stands disclosed a thing of 
passing sweetness, almost beyond price. 

Much of the criticism to which Texas has been subjected has come from peo- 
ple very little acquainted with its actual condition. Border tales have been 
magnified and certified to as literally true. The people of the North and of 
Europe have been told that the native Texan was a walking armament, and that 
his only argument was a pistol-shot or the thrust of a bowie-knife. The Texan 
has been paraded on the English and French stages as a maudlin ruffian, sober 
only in savagery ; and the vulgar gossipings of insincere scribes have been 
allowed to prejudice hundreds of thousands of people. 

Now that the State is bound by iron bands to the United States, now that, 
under good management and with excellent enterprise, it is assuming its proper 
place, the truth should be told. Of course, it will be necessary to say some dis- 
agreeable things; to make severe strictures upon certain people and classes of 
people ; but that is not, by any means, to condemn the State by wholesale or to 
write of it in a hostile spirit. The first impression to be corrected — a very fool- 
ish and inexcusably narrow one, which has, nevertheless, taken strong hold upon 
the popular mind — is, that travel in Texas, for various indefinite reasons, is 
everywhere unsafe. Nothing could be more erroneous ; there is only one section 
where the least danger may be apprehended, and that is vaguely known as the 
"Indian country." Hostile Comanches, Lipans, or predatory Kickapoos might 
rob you of your cherished scalp if you were to venture into their clutches ; but in 
less than three years they will have vanished before the locomotive — or, possibly 
before the legions of Uncle Sam, who has a pronounced mania for removing his 
frontier quite back to the mountains of Mexico. 


Indeed, this apprehension with regard to safety for life and property in Texas 
is all the more inexplicable from the very fact that the great mass of the citizens 
of the State were and are determined to maintain law and order, and to fight with 
bitter persistence the outlaws who have found their way into the country. 

It is true that during the war, and for two years thereafter, things were in 
lamentable condition. Outlaws and murderers infested the high-roads, robbed 
remote hamlets, and enacted jail deliveries. There were a thousand murders per 
year within the State limits ; but at the end of the two years the reconstruction 
government had got well at work, and annihilated the murderers and robbers. 

It is a noteworthy fact, too, that the people then murdered were mainly the 
fellows of the very ruffians who murdered them — shot down in drunken broils, or 
stabbed in consequence of some thievish quarrel. Of course, innocent people 
were occasionally plundered and killed ; but then, as now, most of the men who 
" died with their boots on " were professional scoundrels, of whom the world was 
well rid. 

It may with truth be said that there exists in all of the extreme Southern 
States a class of so-called gentlemen who employ the revolver rather suddenly 
when they fancy themselves offended, sometimes killing, now and then only 
frightening an opponent. These people. are not, as yet, treated with sufficient 
rigor in Texan society. There are even instances of men who have killed a num- 
ber of persons and are still considered respectable. The courts do not mete out 
punishment in such cases with proper severity, sometimes readily acquitting 
men who have wantonly and willfully shot their f*ellow- creatures on the slightest 

A correct summary of the present condition of Texas may, it seems to me, 
be stated as follows : A commonwealth of unlimited resources and with unri- 
valed climate, inhabited by a brave, impulsive, usually courteous people, by no 
means especially bitter on account of the war, who comprise all grades of society, 
from the polished and accomplished scholar, ambassador, and man of large 
means, to the rough, unkempt, semi-barbaric tiller of the soil or herder of cattle, 
who is content with bitter coffee and coarse pork for his sustenance, and with a 
low cabin, surrounded with a scraggy rail fence, for his home. 

The more ambitious and cultured of the native Texans have cordially joined 
with the newly- come Northerners and Europeans in making improvements, in 
toning up society in some places, and toning it down in others ; in endeavoring 
to compass wise legislation with regard to the distribution of lands, and the com- 
plete control of even the remote sections of the State by the usual machinery of 
courts and officials ; and in the binding together and consolidation of the interests 
of the various sections by the rapid increase of railway lines. 

It was a charming morning in April that I climbed to the high box-seat by 
the driver of the San Antonio stage, and sat perched above four sleek and strong 
horses in front of the Raymond House, at Austin, the Texan capital. 

Heavy heat was coming with the growing day ; the hard, white roads glis- 
tened under the fervid sun, and the patches of live oak stood out in bold relief 
against a cloudless sky. The shopkeepers were lolling under their awnings, in 



lazy enjoyment of the restful morning, and a group of Mexicans, lounging 
by a wall, cast wild glances at us from beneath their broad sombreros and 
their tangled and matted black hair. In the distance. Mount Bonnel showed a 
fragment of its rock-strewn summit, and white stone houses peered from the dark 

i green of the foliage, while 

the State House, crowning 
a high knoll, and flanked 
on either side by the Land 
Office and the Governor's 
Mansion, hid from us the 
view of the rich plain, ex- 
tending back to the bases 
of the hills which form an 
amphitheatre in whose 
midst Austin is prettily 
set down. 

Nine inside and three 
outside. "Now, then, 
driver, are you ready? 
Here is your way-bill ; 
here are half-a-dozen mail 
bags ; ballast up carefully, 
or you will have your 

Sunning themselves. — "A group of Mexicans, lounging by a wall." COacll UpSCt !" The drivCr 

a nut-brown man, handsome and alert withal, clad in blue overalls, velvet 
coat, and black slouch hat, springs lightly into his seat, cracks his long 
whip-lash, and we plunge away toward the steep banks of the Colorado, 
bound for an eighty-mile stage ride to the venerable and picturesque city of 
San Antonio. 

Rattle ! we are at the bank, and must all dismount to walk down the decliv- 
ity, and cross the almost waterless river channel on a pontoon bridge. We toil 
painfully across a sandy waste, and then up the bank on the other side, turning 
to look at the town behind us, while the horses pant below. 

A cavalcade of hunters passes us, mounted on lithe little horses and grave, 
sure-footed mules, returning toward Austin. The men are brown with the sun, 
and carry rifles poised across their high-peaked Mexican saddles. Their limbs 
are cased in undressed skin leggings, and their heads are covered with broad 
hats, entwined with silver braids. Each man bows courteously, and all canter 
briskly down to the stream. 

Mounting once more to our perches, beside the driver, artist and writer alike 
are inspired by the beauty of the long stretch of dark highway, bordered and 
covered with huge live oaks, or with the wayward mesquite, whose branches are 
a perpetual danger to the heads of outside passengers. 

The driver nervously inspects us ; then lights a cigar, and, in a gentle voice, 
appeals to his horses with : " Git up, ye saddle critturs ! " — evidently a mild 



reproach. The saddle critturs dash forward at a rapid gait. Each glossy- 
flank is branded with the name by which the animal is known ; and when- 
ever a leader lags or a wheel horse shows a disposition to be skittish, the 
loud voice says, "You Pete!" or "Oh Mary!" and Pete and Mary alike prick 
up their pretty ears with new energy. The driver's tones never rise beyond 
entreaty or derision ; and the animals seem to feel each stricture upon their 
conduct keenly. 

So we hasten on, past pretty farm-houses with neat yards, where four-year- 
old boys are galloping on frisky horses, or driving the cattle or sheep afield ; 
past the suburbs of Austin, and out into the open country, until we have left 
all houses behind, and only encounter from time to time wagons, drawn by 
oxen, and loaded with barrels and boxes, with lumber and iron, toiling at the 
rate of twenty miles a day toward the West. Behind each of the wagons 
marches a tough little 
horse, neatly saddled ; 
and a forlorn dog with a 
general air of wolfishness 
about him, and showing 
his teeth as we dash 
past, brings up the rear. 

Presently the driver 
turns to us with, "Pm a 
dreadful good hand to 
talk, if ye've got any 
cigars." Then, in 
another breath, " From 
New York, hey ? Ain't 
ye afraid to come away out here alone?" (Implying a scorn for the outside 
impression of Texan travel.) A moment after, in a tone of infinite compassion, 
as if regarding Gotham as a place to be pitied, driver adds : 

" Wal, I s'pose thar are some good souls thar" (confidentially); " Pve hauled 
more 'n two thousand o' them New Yorkers over to San Anton within the last 
year. Heap o' baggage. We told one young feller on the box here, one day, 
lots of Injun stories, just as it was gittin dark. Reckon he was n't much afeared. 
Oh, no!" Suppressed merriment lurking in the handsome brown face. "You 
Pete ! you ain't fit for chasin' Injuns ! Git up ! " 

San Antonio is 2,270 miles from New York by present lines of rail and stage, 
and is situated in one of the garden spots of South-western Texas. To the newly- 
arrived Northerner, Galveston certainly seems the ultima-antipode of Gotham ; 
but once across the Brazos and the Colorado, and well into the fertile plains and 
among the glorious prairies of Western and South-western Texas, the sense of 
remoteness, of utter contrast, is a thousand-fold more impressive. To think, 
while clinging to the swaying stage-seat, that one may journey on in this pleasant 
way for eight hundred miles still within Texan limits, gives, moreover, a grand 
idea of the great State's extent. 

"We encounter wagons drawn by oxen.' 


Whirling thus, hour by hour, away from railroads, from houses, taverns, and 
bridges, and beaver-hatted and silk-bedizened folk, one cannot resist the growing 
feeling that he is in a foreign land, and as he sees the wild-eyed children staring 
at him from the fields, or notes the horseman coursing by, with clang and clatter 
of spur and arms, he has a vague expectation that if addressed it will be in a 
foreign tongue. 

A halt: — at a small stone house, through whose open door one sees a curious 
blending of country-store, farm-house and post-office. Here the mail for the 
back-country is delivered. " Morning, Judge," from a lean by-stander, medita- 
tively chewing tobacco, to an outside passenger. " Got them radical judges 
impeached yet ? Driver, won't you bring me a copy of the Texas Almanac next 
time you come out? Reckon I kin use it." A drove of pigs curiously inspect 
the open entrance to the store, whereupon two dogs charge them, flank the 
youngest of the swine, and teach them manners at the expense of their ears. 

Lime-flavored water is brought in a tin dipper and passed around; such of 
the passengers as choose, perfume the vessel with a drop of whiskey. " Wal ! 
sha'n't git ye to San Antonio 'fore this time to-morrow, if ye drink the rivers all 
dry," is the mild remonstrance. As we move ofl", the driver vouchsafes: 

"Thar was Mose — Judge, you remember Mose; he would n't let no stranger 
talk to him, he would n't. Grossest man on this line; had a right smart o' swear- 
words : used 'em mostly to hosses, tho' ! Had one horse that was ugly, and 
always tied his tail to the trace. Outsides mostly always asked him : ' What do 
you tie that horse's tail to the trace for ? ' You oughter hear Mose answer. 
Took him half an hour to get the swear-words out. One day, a feller from New 
York went over with Mose, and did n't say a word about the horse's tail all the 
way to the relay ; when they got to the unhitching place, Mose offered the New 
Yorker half a dollar — 'Stranger,' he says, 'I reckon you've gin me that worth of 
peace of mind ; you are the first man that never asked me nothing about that 'ar 
critter's tail.'" 

A ford, the sinuous road leading to the edge of a rapidly-rushing streamlet, 
on whose banks, among the white stones, lie the skeletons of cattle perished by 
the wayside ! Buzzards hovering groundward indicate some more recent demise. 
Ah! a poor dog, whose feet no longer wearily plod after the wagon train. The 
collar is gone from his neck, some lonely man having taken it as a remembrance 
of his faithful companion. 

A mocking-bird sings in some hidden nook ; a chaparral cock runs tamely 
before us, fanning the air with his gray plumes, and gazing curiously at the buz- 
zards. An emigrant wagon is lumbering through the shallow, bluish-green 
water ; the children of yonder grim-bearded father are wading behind it : inside, 
the mother lies ill on a dirty mattress. Two old chairs, with pots and kettles, a 
Winchester rifle, a sack of flour, and a roll of canvas, are strung at the wagon's 
back. The horses display their poor old ribs through their hides, and their 
tongues protrude under the intense heat. 

Our steeds splash through the stream. We come upon a Mexican camp, 
where a group of lazy peons, who have wandered across from Mexico, braving 



danger and death daily, have at last found a safe haven. The dingy father 
sleeps under his little cart. His mules crop the dry grass, tethered near a 
small, filthy tent, wherein reposes an Indian girl, with a cherub-child's head 
resting upon her exquisite arm. A gipsy-looking hag is munching dried meat 
before a little fire where coffee is boiling. 

Now along a rolling prairie, in a route disfigured by what is known as the 
" hog- wallow; " then, up to a range of hills: and O gioja! the matchless beauty 
of a wide expanse of vale below filled with masses of dense foliage, and beyond, 
forest-clad hills peered down upon by a blue, misty range, far away. A com- 
fortable farm-house crowns the hill up which we climb; shepherds are driving 
flocks of sheep afield ; horsemen are mounting and dismounting ; bright-eyed 
maidens flit about the yard, bareheaded and barearmed ; half-naked negro 

"Heit and ihcrc wc paK> a hunter's camp." 

children tumble about on the turf, and little white boys on ponies play at 
Comanche. Majestic waves of sunlight flit across the valley; the campagna to 
which we are now coming swims in the delicious effulgence of the perfect Texas 
April noon. Here and there we pass a hunter's camp. We spin forward mer- 
rily, having had plenty of relays of fresh horses, and put the Blanco river behind 
us almost without wetting their hoofs, so low is it ; though in times of freshet it 
holds the whole country round in terror for weeks. 

A halt for dinner, which is served in a long, cool kitchen ; a swart girl stand- 
ing at one end and a swart boy at the other. Each agitates a long stick adorned 
with strips of paper, and thus a breeze is kept up and the flies are driven off. 
Buttermilk, corn-bread, excellent meat, and the inevitable coffee are the concom- 



itants of the meal. The landlady stares at the paper-currency offered, as only 
gold and silver are known in this section. The farmer comes in from the field 
for his dinner, and his pleasant, homely talk recalls one to America. After all, 
then, this is not a foreign land. " Stage ready ; come, now, if ye want to git 
anywhar to-night!" 

Onward to the San Marcos, another small, but immensely powerful stream, 
running through rich lands, and passing hard by the prosperous town of San 
Marcos, the shire of a county whose best products are cotton, corn, and sorghum. 
The river, which has its source not far from the town, and near the old home- 
stead of Gen. Burleson, the noted Indian fighter, affords water-power which 
cannot fail to tempt Northern capital some day. Wood and building-stone of 
the best quality are abundant; San Marcos may yet be a second Lawrence or 
Manchester. We pass the court-house and the Coronal Institute ; pass the long 
street lined with pretty dwellings, and ride forward all the hot afternoon towards 
the Guadalupe. 

The fields, in which the corn is already half a foot high, are black ; the soil is 
like fruit-cake. In obscure corners we find little cabins — erected by the Mexi- 
cans who abound along the way. Toward sunset we come upon neat stone 
houses, with quaint German roofs. " Everything Dutch now," ejaculates the 
driver, and indeed we are about to see what German industry and German thrift 
have done for Western Texas. 

The stage rumbles on through the "lane" which extends for miles on either 
side of New Braunfels, bounded by fertile, well-fenced, well-cultivated fields, such 
as the eye of even a New England farmer never rested upon. It is dark as we 
rattle past the cottages ; the German families, mother, father, and the whole 
gamut of children, from four to fourteen, are coming in from work. 

The women have been afield ploughing, with the reins round their necks and 
the plough handles grasped in their strong hands. Yet they are not uncouth or 
ungracious ; their faces are ruddy , their hair, blown backward by the evening 
breeze, falls gracefully about their strong shoulders. Surely, this is better than 
the tenement house in the city ! 

At last we reach the Comal, and crossing its foamy, greenish-blue waters, 
rattle on to New Braunfels, the cheery town which the German Immigration 
Company settled in 1845, ^^^ which is now an orderly and wealthy community 
of 4,000 inhabitants, set down in the midst of a county which has probably 
10,000 residents. 

The Germans were the pioneers in this section, endured many hardships, and 
had many adventures, many battles with the Indians, before they were allowed to 
push forward from New Braunfels and create other settlements. As we enter the 
long main street of the town, the lights from the cottage doors gleam forth 
cheerily. The village maidens are walking two by two with their arms about each 
others' waists, and crooning little melodies, and the men are smoking long pipes 
at the gates. Suddenly we dash up to the hotel, and a pleasant-faced old 
gentleman, in a square silk cap, hastens to welcome us into a bright room, where 
little groups of Germans sit ranged about clean tables, drinking their foaming 


beer from shiniest of glasses. Are we then in Germany ? Nay ; for supper is 
spread in yonder hall, and the new driver whom we took up at the last relay is 
calling upon iis, in our English tongue, to make haste. 

New Braunfels bears as many evidences of wealth and prosperity as any town 
in the Middle States. It has always been liberal in sentiment, and for many 
years boasted of having the only free school in Texas. The shrewd Germans 
have taken advantage of the admirable water-power of the Comal and Guadalupe, 
and have established manufactories in the county. 

The Comal, one of the most beautiful streams in Texas, gushes out at the foot 
of a mountain range not far from New Braunfels, from a vast number of springs; 
and from its sources to its confluence with the Guadalupe, a distance of three 
miles, has forty feet of fall, and mill-sites enough for a regiment of capitalists. 
Indeed it is easy to see that the place will, at some future time, become a great 
manufacturing centre. White labor is easily obtained, and the community is 
peaceful and law-abiding. 

A large cotton factory was established on the Comal some years ago, but was 
destroyed by an exceptionally disastrous tornado in 1869. There are many 
water-mills in the county, all engaged in the manufacture of flour for export via 
the port of Indianola, settled by the same immigration company which founded 
New Braunfels, or via Lavaca. The trees along the river and creek bottoms are 
almost overborne with the mustang grape ; the county abounds in fruit, while 
cotton, corn, and the other cereals are raised in profusion. Irrigation is not 

It is quite dark, and a cool night wind is blowing when we mount once more 
to the coach-top, and settle ourselves for a ride which will last until two in the 
morning. The driver cracks his long whip, and we plunge into the darkness. 
The two great lamps of the coach cast a bright light for twenty feet ahead, and 
we can see little patches of the landscape, beyond which is .the infinite darkness 
relieved only here and there by the yellow of camp-fires, or by the fitful gleams 
of the fire-flies. At last we strike across the prairie. The mesquite-trees, which 
we pass every moment, look white and ghostly in the lamplight, and flit by us 
like a legion of restless spirits. Then, too, as the horses trot steadily forward, 
there is the illusion that we are approaching a great city, so like are the innumer- 
able fire-flies to the gaslights of a metropolis. Now we are in a stable-yard, in 
the midst of a clump of mesquite and oak-trees ; the tired horses are unhitched, 
fresh ones replace them, and away we go again over the prairies. Presently the 
architecture changes ; the little houses, dimly seen at the roadside, from time to 
time, are low, flat-roofed, and built of white stone ; there are long stone walls, 
over which foliage scrambles in most picturesque fashion, while, sprinkled in here 
and there, are the shabby Mexican cottages, with thatched roofs and mud floors. 
There is a hint of moonlight as we approach the hills, and we can see the cattle 
in relief against the sky, hundreds of them lying comfortably asleep, or starting 
up as they hear the rattle of the coach, and brandishing their horns or flourishing 
their tails. Faster, faster flit the mesquite ghosts ; faster fly away the oaks and 
the chaparral ; and faster the little streams which we speed across. Now we 



mount upon a high table-land, from which we can see, faintly defined in the 
distance, a range of hills, and can catch a glimpse of the beautiful valley at their 
feet. The hours pass rapidly by ; the night breeze is inspiring, and' the driver is 
singing little songs; we dash into a white town; pass a huge "corral," inside 

"We pass groups of stone houses" 

which stand blue army wagons drawn up in line ; pass groups of stone houses, 
then into a long street, thickly lined with dwellings, set down in the midst of 
delicious gardens; scent the perfume drifting from the flower-beds; climb a 
little hill, whirl into a Spanish-looking square, and descend, cramped in limb and 
sore in bone, at the portal of the Menger House, in the good old city of San 
Antonio, the pearl of Texas, 



THE great State of Texas is usually spoken of by its inhabitants as divided 
into eight sections — namely, Northern, Eastern, Middle, Western, Ex- 
treme South-western, and North-western Texas, the Mineral Region, and the 
" Pan Handle." This latter section, which embraces more than 20,000 square 
miles, is at present inhabited almost entirely by Indians. The mineral region 
proper, believed to be exceedingly rich in iron and copper ores, comprises 50,000 

" Tlie vast pile of ruins known as the San Jose Mission" [Page 154 

square miles. The vast section between the San Antonio river and the Rio 
Grande — as well as the stretch of seven hundred miles of territory between San 
Antonio and El Paso, on the Mexican frontier, is given up to grazing herds of 
cattle, horses, and sheep, to the hardy stock- raiser, and to the predatory Indian 
and Mexican. Across the plains runs the famous "old San Antonio road," which, 
for 150 years, has been the most romantic route upon the western continent. The 
highway between Texas and Mexico, what expeditions of war, of plunder, of 
savage revenge, have traversed it ! What heroic soldiers of liberty have lost their 
lives upon it ! What mean and brutal massacres have been perpetrated along its 
dusty stretches ! What ghostly processions of friar and arquebusier, of sandaled 
Mexican soldier and tawny Comanche ; of broad-hatted, buckskin-breeched vol- 


unteer for Texan liberty; of gaunt emigrant, or fugitive from justice, with pistols 
at his belt and a Winchester at his saddle ; of Confederate gray and Union blue, 
seem to dance before one's eyes as he rides over it! The romance of the road 
and of its tributaries is by no means finished ; there is every opportunity for the 
adventurous to throw themselves into the midst of danger even within forty 
miles of " San Anton," as the Texans lovingly call the old town ; and sometimes 
in the shape of mounted Indians, the danger comes galloping into the very 
suburbs of San Antonio itself 

San Antonio is the only town in the United States which has a thoroughly 
European aspect, and, in its older quarters, is even more like some remote and 
obscure town in Spain than like any of the bustling villages of France or Ger- 
many, with which the " grand tour" traveler is familiar. Once arrived in it, and 
safely ensconced among the trees and flowerets on Flores street, or on any of 
the lovely avenues which lead from it into the delicious surrounding country, 
— there seems a barrier let down to shut out the outer world ; the United States 
is as a strange land. 

In San Antonio, too, as in Nantucket, you may hear people speak of " going 
to the States," "the news from the States," etc., with utmost gravity and good 
faith. The interests of the section are not so identified with those of the 
country to which it belongs as to lead to the same intense curiosity about 
American affairs that one finds manifested in Chicago, St. Louis, and even in 
Galveston. People talk more about the cattle-trade, the Mexican thievery 
question, the invasion of Mexico by the French, the prospect of the opening up 
of silver mines, than of the rise and fall of the political mercury; and the general 
government comes in for consideration and criticism only when the frontier 
defenses or the Mexican boundaries are discussed. "What general was that 
down yerwith Gin'ral Sherman?" said a man to me at an out-of-the-way town in 
Western Texas. "Reckon that was one o' your Northern gin'rals." As he had no 
interest in following Cabinet changes, he had never heard of Secretary Belknap. 

Although everything which is brought to San Antonio from the outer world 
toils over many miles of stage or wagon transit, the people are well provided 
with literature ; but that does not bring them closer to the United States. 
Nothing but a railroad ever will ; and against the idea of the railroad soon to 
reach them the majority of the elder population rebels. Steaming and snorting 
engines to defile the pure air, and disturb the grand serenity of the vast plains ! 
No, indeed ; not if the Mexicans could have their way, the older Mexicans, the 
apparently immortal old men and women who are preserved in Chili pepper, and 
who, as their American neighbors say, have been taught that they will have 
but short shrift when the railways do come. " It will bring you all sorts of epi- 
demics, and all kinds of noxious diseases," they have been told by those inter- 
ested to prevent the road's building. And this the venerable moneyed Mexicans 
actually consider a valid reason for opposition, since San Antonio now has the 
reputation of being the healthiest town on the American continent. 

The local proverb says, " If you wish to die here, you must go somewhere 
else ;" and, although the logic is a little mixed, it certainly has a fond de veritc. 


For many years consumptives have been straying into San Antonio, apparently 
upon their very last legs, only to find renewed life and vigor in the superb 
climate of Western Texas ; and so certain are consumptives and other invalids to 
be cured in the city and the surrounding region, that retreats and quiet 
residences for people to enshrine themselves in during recovery are going up 
in all quarters. A few of the golden mornings — a few of the restful evenings, 
when the odorous shadows come so gently that one cannot detect their approach 
— and one learns the charm of this delightful corner of the world. 

San Antonio is the cradle of Texan liberty- Its streets and the highways 
leading to it have been drenched with the blood of brave soldiers. Steal out 
with me into the fields this rosy morning, friends, and here, at the head of the 
San Antonio river, on this joyous upland, at the foot of the Guadalupe mount- 
ains whence flow a thousand sweet springs, and overlooking the old town, hear 
a bit about its history and the early struggles of the Texans. 

France was a great gainer for a short time by the fortunate accident which in 
1684 threw De La Salle's fleet into the bay of San Fernando, on the Gulf of 
Mexico, during his voyage from La Rochelle to take possession of the mouths of 
the Mississippi in the name of the king of France. De La Salle virtually opened 
Texas. After he had discovered his error in reckoning, and that he was on new 
ground, he established a fort between Velasco and Matagorda ; but it was soon 
after destroyed, and De La Salle's premature death, at the hands of his quarrel- 
some and cowardly associates, greatly retarded the progress of French discovery. 
But the expedition, and those which followed it, caused great alarm, and as much 
indignation as alarm, at the Court of Spain. A century and a-half was yet to 
elapse ere her feebleness should compel Spain to abandon a conquest whose 
advantages she had so abused ; ere she should see herself driven to give up the 
immense territory which she had held so long. 

Meanwhile De La Salle's expedition caused new activity in Spain ; and in 
1691, a governor "of the States of Coahuila and Texas" was appointed, and 
with a handful of soldiers and friars went out to establish missions and military- 
posts. Colonies were planted on the Red river, on the Neches, and along the 
banks of the Guadalupe ; but in a few years they died out. Presently other 
efforts were made — the Spaniards meantime keeping up a sharp warfare with the 
Indians, the mission of San Juan Bautista, on the right bank of the Rio Grande, 
three miles from the river, being created a presidio or garrison, and the " old San 
Antonio road" between Texas and Mexico running directly by it. 

Meantime the French were vigorously pushing expeditions forward from the 
settlements along the Louisiana coast ; and so very much in earnest seemed the 
movements of Crozat, the merchant prince, to whom Louis XIV. had ceded 
Louisiana, that the Viceroy of Mexico began anew measures for establishing" 
missions and garrisons throughout Texas. And so it happened that in 1715, 
after a mission had been established among the Adaes Indians, and another, the 
" Dolores," west of the Sabine river, the fort and mission of San Antonio de 
Valero was located on the right bank of the San Pedro river, about three-fourths 
of a mile from the site of the present Catholic Cathedral in San Antonio of to-day. 


From this year (171 5) may be said to date the decisive occupancy of Texas 
by Spain, as opposed to France ; she drove out the French wherever found, 
opposed their advances, and finally succeeded in definitely planting fortified 
missions at the principal important points. San Antonio was then known as a 
garrison, and was usually spoken of as the Presidio of Bexar. Indeed, to this 
day the elder Mexicans living in the surrounding country speak of going al 
presidio (to the garrison) whenever they contemplate a visit to San Antonio. 
Texas was then known as the "New Phillippines;" and San Antonio, with its 
five missions, was one of the four garrisons by which it was protected. 

The Marquis of Casa Fuerte had long believed that this post would be a good 
site for a town, and, having asked the Spanish Government to send emigrants 
there, "thirteen families and two bachelors" (say the ancient town records) 
arrived from the Canary Islands, and settled on the east side of the San Antonio 
river, founding a town which they called San Fernando. To them came sturdy 
Tlascalans from Mexico, and the colonists built a stout little hamlet around the 
great square which to-day is known as the "Plaza of the Constitution," or the 
main square in San Antonio. The town was called San Fernando, in honor of 
Ferdinand, the then king of Spain. It was rough work to be a colonist in those 
days, and the Spaniards, friars, soldiers and all, were very glad to get into the 
great square at night, close the entrance with green hides, set their sentinels on 
the roofs of the flat houses, and, trembling lest the sound of the war-whoop of 
the terrible Apaches and Comanches should startle their slumbers, catch a little 
repose. These Apaches and Comanches overran in those days the country 
between San Antonio and Santa Fe, and would swoop down upon the infant 
settlement from their stronghold in the pass of Bandera. They swarmed in the 
Guadalupe mountains, where even now they come in the full of the moon, search- 
ing for horses, as their ancestors did. 

In due time, there was a town on either side of the San Antonio river, each 
with its mission and attendant garrison. Around the mission of the "Alamo" 
had clustered a little garrison and village. This mission church, whose history is 
so romantic, was first founded in 1703, in the Rio Grande valley, by Franciscans 
from Queretaro, under the invocation of San Francisco de Solano ; but, water 
being scarce, was moved back and forth until 171 8, when, 

" Borne, like Loretto's chapel, thro' the air," 

it migrated to the west bank of the San Pedro river, and remained in that vicinity 
until, in 1744, it was removed to the high plateau on the east side of the San 
Antonio, and the foundations of the Church of the Alamo were laid on the very 
ground where, ninety years after, Travis and his braves fell as only heroes fall. 

The mission was known, until 1783, as San Antonio de Valero, in honor of 
the Marquis of Valero, the then Viceroy of "New Spain." The town below the 
river retained its name of San Antonio de Bexar. 

The missions built up around San Antonio were named respectively La 
Purissima Concepcion de Acuna, San Juan Campitran, San Francisco de Assissis, 
and San Jose. The Franciscans, completely estranged from all the ordinary cares 



and passions of the world by the vows of their order, gave themselves heartily to 
their work, and vigorously employed the soldiers allotted them by the Govern- 
ment in catching Indians, whom they undertook to civilize. The missions were 
fortified convent-churches, built in massive and enduring form, and surrounded 
by high walls, so thick and strong that they could resist all Indian attacks. 
Within these walls the converted Indians and the missionaries and soldiers 
gathered whenever a sentinel gave the alarm ; and the brawny friars joined with 
the men-at-arms in fiercely defending the stations where the cross had been 
planted. The Indians who were induced to settle in the vicinity of the Francis- 
cans, and submit to the religious and industrial training which the friars had 
prepared for them, were rarely guilty of treachery, and submitted to all the 
whippings which Mother Church thought good for them. Barefooted, and clad 
in coarse woolen robes, with the penitential scourge about their waists, the priests 
wandered among the Indians at the missions, learned their language, and enforced 
chastity, temperance and obedience. Inside the square which the mission build- 
ings formed were the dwellings allotted both the soldiers and the Indians — the 
savages chafing under this restraint, although they could not doubt the motives 
of the good fathers in restraining them. But they toiled well in the fields, 
went meekly to catechism, and were locked up at night, lest they should be led 
into temptation. Whenever the converts rebelled, there were soldiers enough at 
hand to subdue them ; and the commander of the church garrison was a kind 
of absolute potentate, who made any and every, disposition he pleased of a con- 
vert's life and property. 

In 1729, the right reverend fathers forming the college of Santa Cruz of 
Queretaro, were authorized to found three missions on the river San Marcos ; 
and, in 1730, a superior order from the Marquis of Casa Fuerte authorized the 
foundation of these missions upon the river San Antonio, under certain conditions 
as to their distance from the San Antonio garrison. The result was that before 
1780, four superb mission 
edifices had been reared, at 
short distances from each 
other, and not far from the 
beautiful San Antonio river. 

On the 5th of March, 1731, 
the foundations of La Puris- 
sima Concepcion de Acuna 
were laid, and, after many 
vicissitudes and escapes from 
imminent destruction, it was 
completed in 1752. For 
twenty-one years Indians and 
friars had toiled upon one of 
the noblest churches ever 
erected by Catholics in Amer- 
ica. To-day it is a ruin, de- The old Concepcion Mission neaPSaa Antonio — Texas. 


serted save by an humble German family, who exhibit the time-honored walls 
to visitors, and till the lands in the vicinity. The San jose mission, in all 
respects the finest, was completed in 177 1; that of San Juan in 1746; and 
the "Espada" in 1780. 

As the communities clustered about these missions grew, so grew San 
Antonio ; as they suffered, so it suffered in protecting them. The same Indians 
who cantered up to the town-gates did not fail to offer some menace to the mis- 
sions before returning to their mountain fastnesses. In 1758, they went farther, 
for they assaulted the mission which had been established at San Saba. Pastors 
and their flocks, as well as the guardian soldiery, were sacrificed. Swarms of the 
savages surrounded the mission, and the wonderfully rich silver mines which had 
been developed near it, and not a Spaniard was left alive to bear the news of the 
dreadful massacre to his trembling comrades at the other missions. Some day 
the San Saba mines will be re-opened ; but their exact location has been long 
lost to the knowledge of Europeans or Mexicans, and no Indian will point the 
way to them. . 

It was sunset, on a beautiful April evening, when I first climbed to the roof 
of the Concepcion mission. As the day had been heated and dusty in town, I 
was glad, toward evening, to steal away down the lovely road ; past the dense 
groves and perfumed thickets, along the route which wound among trees and 
flowers, and fertile fields watered by long canals ; past quiet cool yards, in whose 
shaded seclusion I could catch glimpses of charming cottages and farm-houses, 
where rosy Germans or lean Americans sat literally under their own " vine and 

The carriage rolled suddenly through a ford in the deep, swift stream, came 
out upon a stretch of open field, and at a distance I saw, peering above some 
graceful trees, the twin towers of Concepcion — saw them with a thrill of joy at 
their beauty and grandeur, just as hundreds of weary travelers across the great 
plains had doubtless seen them a century ago. In those days they were a 
welcome sight, for they guaranteed comparative security in a land where nothing 
was absolutely certain, save death. Approaching, I could see that the towers 
arose from a massive church of grayish stone, once highly ornate and rich in 
sculpture and carving, but now much dilapidated. The portal was decayed ; the 
carvings and decorations were obscure; a Spanish inscription told of the founding 
of the mission. A group of awe-struck girls lingered about the door- way as 
an old man rehearsed some legend of the place. 

The edifice bore here and there hints of the Moorish spirit, the tendency to 
the arch and vault which one sees so much in Spanish architecture. The great 
dome, sprung lightly over the main hall of the church, was a marvel of precision 
and beauty. In front, jutting out at the right hand, a long wall now fallen into 
decay showed the nature of the mission's original defenses. This wall was of 
enormous thickness, and the half-ruined dwellings in its sides are still visible. 

As I wandered about the venerable structure, the gray walls were bathed in 
the golden light of the fervid Southern sunset ; numberless doves hovered in and 
out of the grand towers; lizards crawled at the walls' base; countless thousands 


of grasshoppers flashing in the air, nestled on the mission's sides ; the stone cross 
between the twin towers stood up black against the sky. Curious parapets along 
the roof, contrived at once for ornament and shelter, showed loop-holes for mus- 
kets. There were mysterious entrances in the rear, and the stone threw a dark 
shadow upon the short, sparse, sun-dried grass. I tried to call up the mission 
fort as it was a century ago, surrounded with smiling fields, cultivated by patient 
Indians ; with soldiers at their posts, diligently guarding the approaches ; with 
the old friars in their coarse robes, building and teaching, and praying and 
scourging themselves and the Indians. I pictured to myself a cavalcade arriving 
at sunset from a weary journey; men-at-arms, and gayly-costumed cavaliers 
entering the gateway; the clatter of swords and the click of musket-locks; the 
echoes of the evening hymn from the resounding vault of the cathedral; — but 
the Present, in the shape of a rail-fence and four excitable dogs anxiously 
peering at me from behind it, would obtrude itself, so I gave meditation the 
good-by, and asked of the family the way to the roof 

The barefooted German maiden, naive and bashful, seemed strangely out of 
place in the shadows of the mission. I wandered through the kitchen, an old 
nook in the wall, and venturing behind the heels of half a dozen mules stabled in 
a niche of the sanctuary, mounted a crazy ladder leading to the belfry window. 

Getting in at the huge opening, I startled the doves, who flew angrily away, 
and then clinging to the wall on one side, I cHmbed still another flight of stone 
steps, and emerged on the roof A giant piece of masonry, my masters of to- 
day ! You can certainly do but little better than did the poor friars and Indians 
a century ago. Being built of the soft stone of the country, the ruin has crum- 
bled in many places ; but it looks as if it might still last for a century. For 
miles around, the country is naked, save for its straggling growth of mesquite, 
of cactus, of chaparral ; the forest has never reasserted itself since the fathers 
cultivated the fields ; and one can very readily trace the ancient limits. 

The grant of the mission of Concepcion was about the first by the Spanish 
Government in Texas of which there is any record. In March of 1731 the 
captain commanding at San Antonio went to the newly allotted mission grounds, 
krtdly greeted the Indians who had decided to settle there, and caused the chief 
oi the tribe to go about over the ceded lands, to pull up weeds, turn over stones, 
and go through all the traditional ceremonials of possession. The same formali- 
ties were observed in founding all the missions near San Antonio ; the transfer of 
the lands being made to the Indians, because the Franciscans, on account of their 
vo\^s, could hold no worldly estate. 

We Americans of the present should lean rather kindly toward these old 
Franciscans, for they were largely instrumental in the work of freeing Texas 
from the yoke of Spanish and Mexican tyranny. As priests, they were too 
humaa and sympathetic to enjoy or sympathize with the brutal policy of Spain; 
and aj sensible men, they had Democratic leanings, doubtless enhanced by the 
Spartan plainness in which they lived. 

Th< various internal troubles undergone by Spain early in this century had 
only served to make her more arrogant toward her colonies, and a large party in 

154 I'H.irr.s with thk Spaniards — the ban josk mission. 

them was anxious tt) revolt. At this time there were few Americans in the ter- 
ritory. Now and then the agents of Wilkinson and l^urr ran through it, 
endeavoring to perfect designs for their new South-western Empire ; but, besides 
these ambitious schemers, only desperadoes from the United States entered 

In 1813, however, Augustus W. Magee, a lieutenant in the American army, 
undertook, in conjunction with a Mexican revolutionist, to conquer Texas to the 
Rio Grande, with a view to annexing it to America or Mexico, as circumstances 
should dictate. He resigned his commission and plunged headlong into the 
invasion, bringing to it many men and much courage, and fighting a good fight 
at Nacogdoches ; but, finally contemplating a retreat, and unable to carry his men 
with him in his plans, he is generally believed to have ended his life by his own 

A short time thereafter, the invading Americans and the revolting 
Mexicans arrived before San Antonio, and attacked the city at once. General 
Salcedo, the Spaniard commanding, valiantly defended it; but the Americans and 
Mexicans won, and as the Indians from the missions had joined in, but few 
prisoners were taken, more than 1, 000 Spaniards being killed and wounded. 
Salcedo and a number of noted Spanish officials were brutally murdered. 

A few days later, the Americans and Mexicans were attacked by other 
Spanish forces, whom they repulsed with great slaughter. But a third Spanish 
force was sent to San Antonio, and 4,000 men gave battle to 850 Americans and 
twice as many Mexicans, composing the " Republican Army of the North," near 
the Medina river. The Spaniards were victorious, and all of the Americans but 
ninety-three were massacred. A large number of the Americans were shot on 
the San Antonio road, their cruel captors seating them by tens on timbers placed 
over newly-dug graves, and thus despatching them. This terrible massacre was 
known as the " battle of the Medina." Then the brave old town of San Antonio 
suffered the vengeance of the Spanish authorities. Seven hundred of its best 
citizens were imprisoned, and 500 of the wives and daughters of the patriots 
were thrown into filthy dungeons. 

From that time forth the history of San Antonio was one of blood atd 
battle, of siege and slaughter. The Americans, who, in a reckless manner, hid 
given their blood for Texan freedom, were henceforth to act from the simper 
motive of self-defense. 

The vast pile of ruins known as the San Jose Mission stands in the mids; of 
the plain about four miles westward from San Antonio. Mute, mighty and pass- 
ing beautiful, it is rapidly decaying. 

The Catholic church in Texas, to whom the missions and the mission ands 
now belong, is too poor to attempt the restoration of this superb edifice vhich 
one of the most famous of Parisian architects, in a recent tour through this 
country, pronounced the finest piece of architecture in the United States San 
Jose has more claims to consideration than have the other missions, as the king 
of Spain sent an architect of rare ability to superintend its erection This 
architect, Huizar, finally settled in Texas, where his descendants still live 



An old Window in the San Jose Mission. 

It is impossible to paint in words the grand effect of this imposing yellowish- 
gray structure, with its belfry, its long ranges of walls with vaulted archways, its 
rich and quaintly carved windows, its winding stairways, its shaded aisles, rearing 
itself from the parched lands. As our party entered the rear archways an old, 

sun-dried Mexican approached, and in a 
weak voice invited us to enter the church. 
The old man and his bronzed wife had 
placed their household goods in the in- 
terior of the edifice ; and in the outer 
porch dried beef was hung over the 
images of the saints. An umbrella and 
candlestick graced the christening font. 
Lighting a corn-shuck cigarette, the old 
man lay down on one of the beds with a 
moan, for he was a confirmed invalid. 
We climbed to the tower, but speedily 
came down again, as the great dome fell 
in last year, and the roof is no longer 
considered safe. 

Returning to the shade, the Mexican 
woman, clad in a single coarse garment, 
her hair falling not ungracefully about a face which, although she must have been 
fifty, seemed still young, served us with water in a gourd, and then seated 
herself on the ground with the hens afifectionately picking about her. Was she 
born at the mission ? we asked. No, sefior ; but in San Fernando. And where 
had she spent her youth ? In Piedras Negras, seiior. And did she not fear the 
roof of the old mission might some day fall and crush her ? Who knows, senor, 
she answered, ambiguously ; giving that vague shake 
of the head by which both Spaniards and Mexicans 
so accurately express profound unconcern. In the 
shade of some of the great walls were little stone 
cabins, in which lived other Mexican families. 
Bronzed children were running about in the sun, and 
bronzed fathers were working lazily in the field. In 
the distance, in any direction — chaparral, — mesquite, 
— cactus, — short, burned grass, and the same pros- 
pect all the way to the Rio Grande. 

A sun-swept, sun -burnished land; a land of 
mirages, and long, wearying distances without water ; 
a land of mysterious clumps of foliage, inviting to 
ambush ; where soldiers are always chasing maraud- 
ing savages whom they rarely catch, and where the 
Mexican and the Indian together hunt the cattle of 
the " Gringo ;" where little towns cluster trustingly around rough fortresses; 
where the lonely "ranch" is defended by the brave settler with his "Win- 

'An umbrella and candlestick graced 
the christeninsr font." 



Chester;" where millions of cattle and thousands of horses and sheej) roam 
fancy free from year to year, their owners only now and then riding in among 
them to secure the increase; — that is the beyond. 

The San Juan mission, a little beyond the San Antonio river, some three or 
four miles farther down, like the Espada, which stands upon the bend in the 
river still below, is but a ruin. In its day it was very large, and many families 
lived within its bounds. Now there is little to be seen, except a small chapel 
and the ruins of the huge walls. A few families, live among the debris, and 
there is even a " San Juan Mission Store." 

The scene about the humble abodes of the Mexicans, residing in or near 
these missions, is very uniform. There is a rude water-cart near the door; a few 
pigs run about the premises, and a hairless Mexican dog watches them ; two or 
three men, squatted on their haunches, sit blinking in the sun. No one ever 
seems to do any work ; though the Mexicans about San Antonio have a good 
reputation as laborers. 

The comfnmble c unlry hou-.e so loii^ occupied by Victor Considtranl 

It was at the Concepcion mission that the patriot army of Texas assembled in 
1835, after the capture of Goliad; and it was along the river bottom and in the 
timber by the river, that a battle was fought in which the Mexicans received 
severe treatment. 

On the river road from San Antonio to Concepcion stands the comfortable 
country-house so long occupied by Victor Considerant, the French free-thinker 
and socialist. Considerant, after his ineffectual attempt to found a community 
of the Fourier type in Texas, lived tranquilly with his family near the old 
mission for many years, going to San Antonio now and then for society, and 
occupying his leisure with literary work. A strange man, strongly fixed in his 
beliefs and prejudices, he was not thoroughly understood, though universally 
respected by the Texans who met him. 



SAN Antonio is watered by two beautiful streams, the San Antonio and the 
San Pedro, the former running directly through the town's centre. Its 

bluish current flows in a narrow but 

picturesque channel between bold and 

rugged banks in some places, and 

sloping borders in others, and is every- 
where overhung with delicate group- 
ings of foliage. It passes under bridges, 

by arbors and bath-houses ; by flights 

of stone steps leading up into cool, cozy 

houses, as the stairways lead from 

Venetian canals ; past little lawns, 

where the San Antonian loafs at his 

ease at midday; and on through sweet 

fields, full of a wealth of blossoms. 

Nowhere, however, is it so supremely 

beautiful as at its source, on the high 

plateau at the foot of the Guadalupe 

range, where it breaks out from a fine 

spring, and shapes itself at once into a 

beautiful stream. Around the natural 

park of several hundred acres which 

lies along the base of the mountains, Mr. Brackenridge, the banker, who pur- 
chased the estate, has thrown a protecting wall enclosing a park which an 

English duke might covet. The 
stream is a delicious poem written 
in water on the loveliest of river- 
beds, from which mosses, ferns, 
dreamiest green and faintest crimson, 
rich opalescent and strong golden 
hues, peep out. Every few rods there 
is a waterscape in miniature — an 
apotheosis of color. Noble pecans, 
grand oaks, lofty ashes, shade the 
stream, which flows down toward a 
i,~'' ' "^ _ " quarry a little above the town, where 

The Source of the Sau Antonio River. it again forms a picturc such as only 

The San Antonio River — "Its bluish current flows in a 
narrow but picturesque channel." 



the Marne at St. Maur, or the Seine at Marly can rival. To the people of San 
Antonio it is a perpetual delight, a constant treasure, of which they speak almost 
reverently. The San Pedro is commonly known as a creek, but has many a 
beautiful nook along its hanks; and in one of them, called "San Pedro Springs," 

the Germans have estab- 
lished their beer gardens. 
There, in the long Sun- 
day afternoons, hundreds 
of families are gathered, 
drinking beer, listening to 
music and singing, play- 
ing with the fawns, or 
gazing into the beer gar- 
den and the den of the 
Mexican panther. There, 
too, the Turnverein takes 
its exercise; and in a long 
hall, dozens of children 
waltz, under the direction 
of a gray-haired old pro- 
fessor, while two specta- 
cled masters of the violin 

San Pedro Springs— "The Gennans have established their beer gardens." make mUsic. This is the 

Sunday rendezvous of great numbers of the citizens of San Antonio, Germans 
and Americans, and is as merry, as free from vulgarity or quarreling, as any beer 
garden in Dresden. The German element has been of incalculable value to 
Western Texas, and especially to San Antonio. It has aided much in building 

"Every few rods there is a '•^uwis^^y^ in miniature." [Page 157.] 



up the material interests of the whole section ; has very largely increased the 
trade of the city ; has brought with it conservatism and good sense in manners, 
so that even a frontier town, eighty miles from any railroad, and not more than 
thirty miles from Indians, 
has all the grace and deco- 
rum of older societies. The 
German was a good element, 
too, when the trying issues 
of the last war came ; and 
was unwavering in its loy- 
alty. The Germans suffered 
much, and many were driven 
out, losing property and 
money; hundreds were 
slaughtered in trying to es- 
cape to Mexico, or into the 
North-west; there were 
shameful massacres ; but 
they were not to be fright- 
ened, and they held to their 
opinions, although often 
obliged to conceal them. 
Texas is a changed place 
indeed to the people who 
were afraid to express their 
views before the war. As a 
gentleman in San Antonio 
said to me, " It was like living in an asylum where every one was crazy on one 
especial subject ; you never knew when dangerous paroxysms were about to 
begin." The Texas of twelve years a'j;o. when it was dangerous for a man to 

be seen reading the 
New York Tribune, and 
critically perilous for 
him to be civil to a 
slave, has passed away, 
and the Texans them- 
selves are glad that 
they have awakened 
from their dream of 
patriarchal aristocracy, 
which placed such a 
check upon the devel- 
opment of the State. 
The Germans have set- 
tled several thriving 

cr passes under bridges, by arbors and bath-houses." [Page 157.] 

The Ursuline Convent — San Antonio. [Page 161.] 

1 I 



places west of San Antonio, the most noted of which is Fredericksburg. 
German and Jewish names are over the doors of certainly more than half the 
business houses in San Antonio ; and (ierman or Hebrew talent conducts many 
vast establishments which have trade with the surrounding country, or with 

San Antonio has so long been a depot for military supplies for all the forts on 
the south-western frontier, and for the Mexican States this side of the Sierra 
Madre, that some of the merchants are not in favor of the advent of railroads, 
fearing that with them trade will move beyond the venerable city, and forgetting 
that even in that event there will be ample compensating advantages. The 
sooner Western Texas has railroads, the sooner will the Indian and Mexican 
difficulties be settled ; the sooner will all the available rich lands be taken up. 

Even now the business 
done by means of the 
slow wagon trains, which 
can at best only make 
twenty miles per day, is 
enormous, amounting to 
many millions yearly. 
What will it be when rail- 
roads penetrate to the now 
untamed frontiers? Many 
of the appliances of civ- 
ilization are fast reaching 
Western Texas for the first 
time. San Antonio now 
has four prosperous banks, 
— she had none before the 
war, — gas-lights, two daily 
papers, and a weekly for 
the Germans; how can she 
avoid railroads ? 

Three lines are at present pointed directly at the antique city ; the Galveston, 
Harrisburg and San Antonio railroad, nearly completed ; the Gulf, Western 
Texas and Pacific railroad, which at present extends from Indianola to Victoria, 
and has been graded to Cuero, thirty miles beyond Victoria ; and the Interna- 
tional railroad, which contemplates touching both Austin and San Antonio, 
thus opening a through line to Longview, in Northern Texas, and south-west- 
ward to Mazatlan on the Pacific, with a branch to the city of Mexico. There is 
not much probability that the last line will be finished to San Antonio, at least 
for many years. 

The plazas, or public squares of San Antonio, merit special attention. The 
four principal ones are the Alamo, the Constitution, the Military, and Travis. 
The latter is a handsome grass-grown common surrounded by pretty residences, 
some of them fronting upon charming lawns and gardens ; a stone church is to 

St Mary's Church — San Antonio. [Page i6i.] 

SAN KKKNANDO CHURCH '* I. A K 1. ]) 11 O ." 


be erected there by the Episcopahans. The Ursuline Convent and St. Mary's 
Church are amori^ the noticeable Catholic edifices of the town. 

The old church of San Fernando is now removed from the " Plaza of the 
Constitution," or rather is enshrined within a new and imposing edifice, built of 
the white stone of 
the section. The 
Constitution plaza 
is the original gar- 
rison square of San 
Fernando, and 
streets lead out 
from it into the 
open country, the 
Military plaza, and 
the main part of 
the town. The 

Military plaza is surrounded by storehouses and shops, and is always filled 
with wagon teams and their picturesque and ragged drivers. From thence 
it is only a few steps to one of the Mexican quarters of the town, sometimes 
called "Laredito." There the life of the eighteenth century still prevails, 
without taint of modernism. Wandering along the unpaved street in tlie 
evening, one finds the doors of all the Mexican cottages open, and hcis only 
to enter and demand supper to be instantly served ; for the Mexican has 
learned to turn American curiosity about his cookery to account. Entering 

A Me.xican Hovel. Page 162 ] 


The Military Plaza — San Antonio 



one of these hovels, you will tind a lon^, rough tabic with wooden benches 
about it ; a single candlestick dimly sending its light into the dark recesses 
of the unceiled roof; a hard earth-floor, in which the fowls are busily bestowing 
themselves for sleep ; a few dishes arranged on the table, and glasses and 
coffee-cups beside them. The fat, tawny Mexican matcrfamilias will place 
before you various savory compounds, swimming in fiery pepper, which biteth 
like a serpent ; and the tortilla^ a smoking hot cake, thin as a shaving, and 
about as eatable, is the substitute for bread. This meal, with bitterest of coffee 
to wash it down, and dulcet Spanish talked by your neighbors at table for dessert, 
will be an event in your gastronomic experience. You will see many Americans 
scattered along at the tables in the little houses in Laredito ; even where 
I went there was a large ]xirty of the curious, ciceroncd by one of the oldest 
and most respected of San Antonio's citizens, "Don Juan" Twohig, the wealthy 

"The Mexicans slowly saw and carve the great stones." 

Irish banker, who was sixty-five years old that very day, but rolled tortillas as 
heartily as when a sturdy youth, and was as gay as when, a gallant revolutionist, 
he beguiled the hours of captivity in the Castle of Perote, where the cruel 
Mexicans had sent him. 

The residences on Flores street are all completely embowered in shrubbery, and 
many of them are intrinsically fine. There are few wooden structures in the city. 
The solid architecture of previous centuries prevails. Putting up a house is a 
work of time; the Mexicans slowly saw and carve the great stones; but the work 
is solid when completed, and fire-proof Most of the houses and blocks in Com- 
merce and other principal streets are two stories high — sometimes three — and 
there are some fine shops — one or two of them being veritable museums of traffic. 

It is from these shops that the assortments are made up which toil across the 
plains to the garrisons and to Mexico ; and a wagon-train, loaded with a " varied 



assortment," contains almost everything known in trade. Throu^li the narrow 
streets every day clatter the mule-teams, their tattered and dirty-clothed negro 
drivers shouting frantically at them as they drag civilized appliances toward 
Mexico. These wagoners lead a wild life of almost constant danger and adven- 
ture, but they are fascinated with it, and can rarely be induced to give it up. 

The Mexicans monopolize a corner of the town, which has won the sobriquet 
of "Chihuahua." It is a picturesque collection of hovels, built of logs, stones. 



" I'he elder women wash clothes by tht: brookside." 

and dried mud, and thatched with brush or straw. Little gardens are laid out in 
front of the houses, some of which are no larger than a sentry-box, and naked 
children play in the primitive streets. Young girls, bold-eyed and beautiful, 
gayly dressed, and with shawls thrown lightly over their superb heads, saunter 
idly about, gossiping, or staring saucily at strangers ; the elder women wash 
clothes by the brookside. The men seem to be perpetually waiting for some one 
to come and feed them. They wander about in the most purposeless fashion, 
and one is tempted to think them on the look-out for a chance to rob or murder ; 
yet they are, on the contrary, quite inoffensive. "Chihuahua" and "Laredito" 
are nooks that one would never suspect could exist on American soil. But 
the Mexican is hard-headed, and terribly prejudiced ; he cannot be made to 
see that his slow; primitive ways, his filth and lack of comfort, are not better 
than the frugal decency and careful home management of the Germans and 
Americans who surround him. 

The Alamo is the shrine to which every pilgrim to this strange corner of 
America must do utmost reverence; It is venerable as mission church and fort- 
ress, and was so baptized in blood that it is world-famous. The terse inscription 
on the Alamo monument, in the porch of the capitol at Austin, " TJiermopylcB had 
her messe7iger of death ; the Alamo had none/" indicates the reverence in 
which the ruins are held by Texans. There is now but little left of the original 
edifice. The portion still standing is used as a Government storehouse; and 
the place where Travis and his immortals fell, which should be the site of a fine 
monument, is a station for the mule and ox-teams waiting to receive stores. 


THK S Tk l.(;(; I.K K(il< TI.XAN 1 N I) i; 1' I. N 1 ) K N I !•: 

It was a noteworthy struggle wliicli led to the massacre at the Alamo, and 
thence to Texan independence. Moses and Stephen I''. Austin, father and son, 
struggled through a dreary period of colonization from 1821 until 1836. The 
father died before he had succeeded in availing himself, to any extent, of the 
hesitating permission he had received from the Spaniards to introduce Americans 
into Texas ; but his son took that permission as his patrimony, and went at the 
work with a will. 

Stephen Austin was obliged to brave a thousand dangers in founding his first 
colony on the banks of the Brazos; but the colony grew, and acquired a steadiness 
and prosperity, even \vhile the adjacent Mexican States were undergoing twenty 
revolutions. The time, however, came, and speedily, when the Government of 
Mexico perceived that the two races were radically antagonistic, and that Amer- 
ican activity would soon conquer the whole territory, unless force were opposed to 
it. So, with the usual blindness of despotism, Guerrero, the weak and despi- 
cable tyrant, began hostilities against the Americans, and detachments of soldiers 
crept in upon the colonists, occupying various posts, under one pretext or 
another, until the colonists saw through the ruse, and openly defied the crafty 

Guerrero continued provocative measures ; freeing slaves throughout Mexico, 
and thus violating a treaty made with the American colonists ; and at last the 
Mexican Congress forbade any more Americans to enter Texas. 

Then came the thunder-storm ! The colonists sent commissioners to com- 
plain to the Mexican Government of their ill-treatment. These commissioners 
were imprisoned and abused, and the colonists flew to arms — took the citadel of 
Anahuac — took other fortresses and held them — released their commissioners — 
repudiated Mexico — met in convention at San Felipe, in 1832, and drew up a 
constitution under which they desired to live. Stephen Austin agreed to present 

Mexican types in San Antonio. 



'The remnant of the old fort of the Alamo." 

it to the parent government in the city of Mexico, but when he reached that 
place he was thrown into prison. This and other odious tyrannies of Santa 
Anna, the new ruler and liberator of Mexico, opened the way to the Alamo, to 
San Jacinto, and to inde- 
pendence. It was a bloody 
path, but bravely trod ! 
There were giants in those 
days, men who gave their 
lives cheerfully, men who 
held death in contempt. 
Such men were Austin, 
Houston, Travis, Fannin, 
and Milam. 

The final struggle be- 
tween Santa Anna, dictator 
of Mexico, and the Texan- 
American army began in 
1834. It was a clever pre- 
text which brought about the real war. The Mexican governor of Coahuila, 
the province allied to Texas, had, in order to meet his expenses, proposed the 
sale of lands in Texas. 

Numerous speculators presented themselves; but they were all Americans, 
and when this became known, the Mexican Government refused to ratify the gov- 
ernor's action. The governor insisted ; troops were sent into Coahuila to expel 
the rebel Legislature which had voted the land measure, and the Texan- 
Americans found themselves, as well as their neighbors, in danger of invasion. 
They could wait no longer; they raised the standard of revolt on the plains of 
San Jacinto, August 16, 1835; and as soon as the news of the rebellion 
came to Mexican ears. General Cos, by Santa Anna's orders, sat down 
before San Antonio, the rebellious capital, to starve it into submission. There 
was fighting everywhere — at Goliad, at Gonzales, in all the towns, and 
around them. 

General Cos took San Antonio; was besieged in it; had to give it up to 
brave Ben Milam and the "three hundred men who were ready to die;" and, a 
little time after, the people of Texas, assembled in convention at Washington, on 
the Brazos river, enthusiastically voted the declaration of the absolute indepen- 
dence of Texas. So Santa Anna, with three army corps, began the third siege 
of San Antonio. 

As you see the remnant of the old fort of the Alamo now, its battered walls 
looming up without picturesque effect against the brilliant sky, and the clouds of 
dust which the muleteers and their teams stir up, half hiding it — perhaps it does 
not seem to you like a grand historic memorial. Indeed it is not so grand as in 
its old days, when, as a church, standing proudly under the shade of the noble 
Cottonwood trees, it was the cynosure of every eye. It has fallen much into 
decay, and the Government, which would use Washington's tomb for a store- 

I 66 HOW 1 R A V 1 S AND HIS MEN li I K D . 

house, rather than build a proper one, if Mount Vernon were a mihtary depot, 
has cumbered it with boxes and barrels. 

But you must picture the old fort as it was on Sunday, the 6th of March, 
1836, when Texas was a young and war- ridden republic. Santa Anna, with an 
overwhelming force of infantry, had hemmed in and forced to retreat into the 
fort a little band of one hundred and forty or fifty men, commanded by Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Travis. In those days the fort extended over two or three acres. 

A thousand men would hardly have been sufficient to man the defenses. It 
was a capacious structure, with chapel, long stone barracks, barrier walls, and 
intrenchments, fortified with cannon. The barracks were loop-holed, and the 
doors were barricaded with semicircular parapets, made of double curtains of 
hides filled with earth. The walls were so tremendously thick and strong that 
batteries playing upon them night and day produced but little effect. 

It was a troublous time for the new republic ; the United States had given 
sympathy, but no aid ; the Mexican troops were ten times as numerous as were 
the patriot armies ; terrible struggles against the enemy had been made at 
Goliad, and at other places, but in vain ; all hope of succor was cut off from the 
soldiers in the Alamo, although Houston's little army was doing its best to rally. 
Fannin was desperately awaiting the attack upon Goliad. The Alamo and its 
defenders were left alone, to the mercy of the " Napoleon of the West." 

But Lieutenant- Colonel Travis and the little garrison had made up their 
minds. There was but one idea of duty in the souls of these men. Bowie and 
Crockett and Bonham, and those noble volunteers who had succeeded in making 
their way into the fort from the town of Gonzales — one hundred and eighty- 
eight souls in all, say some chroniclers, — resolved to defend the Alamo to 
the uttermost. Like Leonidas and his Spartans at Thermopylae, they pledged 
themselves to victory or death. Then and there did they consecrate Texas to 
liberty. The Alamo was stormed by thousands of ferocious Spaniards and 
Mexicans. The Texans fought like demons, killing hundreds of their assailants, 
but were finally overpowered, and were all put to death. Two women, their two 
children, and a negro boy, were the only survivors of this dreadful massacre ; 
and but one, a Mexican woman, is alive to-day. The " Napoleon of the West" 
gave his name to infamy, and sealed the doom of his own cause by this infamous 
massacre and the still bloodier one which followed it at Goliad. The heroism of 
the Alamo was the inspiration of the men who fell upon Santa Anna's army 
at San Jacinto, destroyed it, and made Texas free. Not even the bones of 
Travis and his men were preserved. The mutilated bodies were burned a few 
hours after they fell ; and the fierce north winds which now and then sweep over 
San Antonio, have long ago scattered the ashes which the Texans a year after 
the massacre had gathered up and reverently buried. 




THERE are many almost distinctively Mexican types to be seen in the 
San Antonio streets. Prominent among them are the horsemen from 
the plains, with their blankets well girt about them, and their swarthy features- 
shaded by broadest of sombreros. Youths mounted on oxerloaded little mules> 
shout lustily in Spanish. The drivers of the ox-teams swear and swear again as 
they crack their long whips, and groups of rough, semi-Indian looking men sun 
themselves at unprotected corners. The candy and fruit merchants lazily wave 
their fly-brushes, and sit staring open-eyed all day, although the intense sun- 
light reflected from the hard, white roads is painfully annoying to the stranger. 
The old beggars, half-blind and wholly ragged, huddle together, howling for 
alms, and invoking ten thousand saints, or, muttering to themselves, stray aim- 
lessly up and down the avenues. 

A residence of a few weeks in San Antonio affords one a good look into the 
cattle trade of Western Texas, one of the most remarkable industries of the south- 
west. One might with justice call it an indolent industry — for it accomplishes 

"The horsemen from tlie plains." 

1 68 


'The candy and fruit merchants lazily wave their fly-brushes 
[Page 167.] 

great results in a lazy, disorderly way, and makes men millionaires before 

they have had time to arouse themselves for real work. 

Cattle-trading is a grand pastime with hundreds of Tcxans. They like the 

grandiloquent sound of a "purchase of 60,000 head." There is something at 

once princely and patriarchal about 
it. They enjoy the adventurous life 
on the great grazing plains, the 
freedom of the ranch, the possi- 
bility of an Indian incursion, the 
swift coursing on horseback over 
the great stretches, the romance of 
the road. Nearly all the immense 
region from the Colorado to the 
Rio Grande is given up to stock- 
raising. The mesquite grass car- 
pets the plains from end to end, 
and the horses, cattle and sheep 

luxuriate in it ; while the giant pecan throws down stores of oily nuts every 

year for the wandering hogs to revel over. 

The mountainous regions around San Antonio offer superb facilities for sheep 

husbandry ; and the valleys along the streams are fertile enough for the most 

exacting farmer. There arc millions of cattle now 

scattered over the plains between San Antonio and 

the Rio Grande, and the number is steadily increas- 
ing. It is not uncommon for a single individual to 

own 200,000 head. 

The cattle owners of Western Texas have been 

much before the public for the last (c\v years, on account 

of their numerous complaints of thievery on the frontier. 

While I was in San Antonio a Government commission 

arrived from a long and tedious journey through the 

Rio Grande valley and the country between San Antonie 

and the Mexican boundary, where they had been taking 

testimony with regard to the Mexican outrages.- 

Opinion seems somewhat divided as to the extent 

and nature of the damage done the cattle- raising mter- 

est by the Mexicans, some Texans even asserting that 

the Texan claims are grossly exaggerated, and that there 

has been much stealing on both sides of the Rio Grande. 

But the commission itself has taken testimony with gre^it 

care, and, whatever may be the exact nature of the ' 

claims against Mexico, they are enough to justify a 

prompt aggressive policy in case the hybrid neighbor 

republic does not see fit to take notice of the demands of her more powerful 

sister. The troubles on the Mexican-Texan frontier have resulted largely from 

A Mexican Beggar 


an attack made on the Kickapoo Indians. It appears that these Indians, during 
our late civil war, left their reservation with the intention of going to Mexico, and 
while passing through Texas in May of 1864, were mistaken for a hostile force by 
a Confederate corps of observation, and were attacked. When the mistake was 
corrected, the Indians were allowed to proceed on their way ; but they found the 
attack a pretext for an offensive policy, and soon after reaching Mexico began a 
series of distressing frontier depredations. There were only nine hundred and 
thirty-five of these Kickapoo Indians, originally ; and it is now supposed that at 
least half of them arc dead ; but those who remain arc terrible fellows. The 
Kickapoo is a kind of perverted Indian; he is unlike the original tribes of Texas, 
who, like their neighbors in Mexico, were mild-mannered until aroused by ideas 
of wrong. He was born with the genius of murder and rapine firmly implanted 
in his breast, and being somewhat civilized, of course he is much worse than if he 
were a pure savage. He had not been long in Mexico before he began to 
dominate the native Mexican Indians ; and the Comanches joining with them, 
they soon had things their own way in their new home. 

These Bedouins of the West have been a terror to the stock-farmer since 
1864. They have acted like fiends; seeming to be far more malignant and 
savage than their ancestors. Indeed, as the Indian race decreases in Texas, from 
disease, internal dissensions, and intangible causes, the "type of the decadence" 
is the most repulsive which the blood has ever produced. It is as if the savage 
spirit made its last protest against annihilation tenfold more bitter and deadly 
than its first. 

The Kickapoos, in conjunction with Comanches, Apaches, and Mexicans, 
ha\'e carried off immense herds, and committed numberless murders. They 
have been almost ubiquitous, overrunning that vast section between the Rio 
Grande and San Antonio rivers, and the road between the towns of San Antonio 
and Eagle Pass, — a region embracing 30,000 square miles. They were wont to 
dash into the ranches and stampede all the stock they could frighten, driving it 
before them to the Rio Grande, and, although well-armed pursuers might be 
close behind them as they crossed the fords, they would usually escape with their 
prey, knowing that in Mexico reclamation would be an impossibility. 

They came, and still come from time to time, within a few miles of San 
Antonio, to gather up horses ; and if tlicy cannot succeed in escaping with the 
horses they invariably kill them. At the full of the moon the Indians will 
usually enter the vicinity of the ranches, on foot, carrying their lassos. They 
hide carefully until they have discovered where the stock is, and then the gather- 
ing up is a speedy matter. An attempt at pursuit is folly, as the pursuer can 
only travel in the day-time, when he can see the trail, and the only hope of 
peace seems to be the extermination of the Indians.* The citizens gather at San 
Antonio, and discuss measures of vengeance ; but it is useless. 

The Rio Grande valley has always been the paradise of stock-farming. 
Before the Spaniards had left the Texan country, the whole section between the 

* I believe the Kickapoos in question have been removed from Mexico to some reservation, 
but there are still Indians enough left in Texas to keep stock-stealing up to its old standard. 



Rio Grande and the Nueces was covered with stock. The Indians were in those 
days employed in herding cattle ; imagine one of them engaged in such a gentle, 
pastoral occupation to-day ! As soon as the influence of the missionaries began 
to wane, the Indians ceased herding, and returned to their old habits of murder 
and rapine. 

The United States Commissioners to Texas are of opinion that not only have 
the Indians been aided and abetted by Mexicans in their stealing from the ran- 
cheros of Western Texas, hut that Mexicans themselves are directly engaged in 
the stealing. So great has been the loss from these causes since the war, that 
the number of cattle now grazing west of San Antonio is between two-thirds and 
three-fourths less than in 1 866. 

But the stock- raisers, despite the many dangers and vexations which beset 
them, are a healthy, happy set. Their manners have a tinge of Spanish gravity 
and courtesy ; they are sun-browned, stalwart men, unused to the atmosphere of 
cities, and in love with the freedom of the plains. 

"The citizens gather at "^an Antonio and discuss measures of vengeance [Page 169] 

Their herds of thousands range at will over the unfenced lands, and only once 
yearly do the stout rancheros drive them up to be examined, branded, and 
separated. Ownership is determined by peculiar brands and car-marks, records 
of which are kept in the offices of the county clerks, and published in the news- 
papers. There is a stock-raisers' association which has decided on rules for 
mutual protection and aid. 

In 1872 there were 450,000 cattle driven overland from Western Texas to 
Kansas, through the Indian Territory, by Bluff Creek and Caldwell, up the 
famous "Chisholm trail." In 1871 as many as 700,000 were driven across. 
The general value of "Kansas beeves" is $I2 to $13 gold; but after deducting 
all expenses, the average profit on the "drive" is not much more than a fair rate 
of interest on the money invested. The cattle interest is rather heavily taxed 
for transportation, and suffers in consequence. 



But few cattle are transported by sea, the outlet for the trade by way of 
Indianola having never been very successful. The Morgan steamships carry 
perhaps 40,000 beeves yearly that way. The two great shipping points in 
1872-73 were Wichita, on a branch of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe rail- 
road, at the junction of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas rivers, and Ellsworth, 
on the Kansas Pacific railroad. The whole country, at the time of transit, is 
covered with vast herds, which begin to arrive in Kansas early in May and await 
buyers there. A stampede is something which baffles description ; you must 
witness it. It is a tempest of horns and tails, a thunder of hoofs, a lightning of 
wild eyes ; I can describe it no better. 

Merely to see a man on foot is sometimes sufficient to set Texan cattle into a 
frenzy of fear, and a speedy stampede ; for the great majority of them have 
never been approached save by men on horseback. The gathering up of stock is 
no light task, as a herd of 75,000 cattle will range over an area fifty miles 
wide by 100 miles long. 

Large stock- raisers are 
always increasing their 
stock by buying herds 
adjacent to their ranges. 
Many persons make for- 
tunes by simply gathering 
up and branding the 
cattle which the rightful 
owners have neglected 
to brand ; cattle found 
unbranded, and a year 
old, being known as 

The origin of this 
name is very funny. 
Colonel Maverick, an old 
and wealthy citizen of 
San Antonio, once placed 
a small herd of cattle on 
an island in Matagorda 
Bay, and having too 

A Texan Cattle-Drover. 

many other things to 
think of, soon forgot all 
about them. After a 
lapse of several years, 
some fishermen sent the 
Colonel word that his 
cattle had increased 
alarmingly, and that 
there was not grass 
enough on the island to 
maintain them. So he 
sent men to bring them 
off. There is probably 
nothing more sublimely 
awful in the whole his- 
tory of cattle-raising than 
the story of those beasts, 
from the time tliey were 
driven from the island 
until they had scattered 
to the four corners of 
Western Texas. Among 

these Matagordian cattle which had run wild for years were 800 noble, but ferocious 
bulls ; and wherever they went they found a clear field. It was as if a menagerie 
of lions had broken loose in a village. Mr. Maverick never succeeded in keeping 
any of the herd together ; they all ran madly whenever a man came in sight ; and 
for many a day thereafter, whenever unbranded and unusually wild cattle were 
seen about the ranges, they were called " Mavericks." The bulls were long 
the terror of the land. 

The estimated profits of cattle-raising are enormous. Some authenticated 
instances are worthy especial mention. One man in the vicinity of San Antonio 



began in 1856 with 150 head of cattle; he now has 60,000, and is considered 
worth $350,000. Another, who bet^an by takin^^ stock to attend to for one- 
third of the increase, is worth about the same sum. One ranch, that of Mr. 
Kennedy, some distance west of Corpus Christi, has an inclosure of 150,000 
acres, the fencing for which alone cost $100,000 Many a stock-raiser brands 
15,000 head of calves yearly. The profits of horse-raising, making due allow- 
ance for losses by Indian raids and American and Mexican horse-thieves, are 
even greater. The owner of a large horse- ranch near Castroville* told me that 
he had repeatedly endca\-orcd to get up an issue with the Indians, who often 
attacked his ranch — lioping to get them indicted and then requisitioned in 
Mexico ; but their tribal arrangements prevent that. The chief alone is respon- 
sible for the bad deeds of all his warriors, and any quantity of indictments 
would never bring him to justice. An attempt to operate under the treaty made 
by Corwin, in 1862 — by which the Government authorized district judges to 
demand the extradition of criminals, — was equally unsuccessful. The Mexican 
officers on the frontier recognize no law, no authority except their own. 

The head-quarters of such troops of the regular army as are in the Depart- 
ment of Texas, is at San Antonio. A chain of defensive forts extends from Fort 
Sill in the Indian Territory — in that section occupied by the Kiowas, Arapahoes 
and Comanches, — south-west and south to the Rio Grande, and along the 
Mexican frontier. Forts Richardson, Griffin. Concho, McKavett, Clark, Duncan, 
Mcintosh, Ringgold, and Brown, are the most important posts, and each is well 
garrisoned with several companies of infantry and cavalry. It is at Fort Clark 
that the gallant Colonel McKenzie has long been stationed. The close proximity 

of the fort to the 
river has some- 
what troubled 
the raiding Indi- 
ans; but they 
generally man- 
age to pass be- 
tween the forts 
without being 
observed. Cav- 
alry scouts are 
constantly enga- 
ged along the 

Military Head-quarters— San Antonio. wholc defensive 

line ; but the men and horses are but poor matches for the Indians and their 
ponies. There is no telegraphic communication from fort to fort ; therefore the 
officers at the various posts are never capable of concerted action. The line of 
forts extending from Concho to Fort Sill is intended to protect against incursions 
from the " Staked Plains " district, where the Indians still wander at their own 

* Castroville is one of the most thriving towns in Western Texas. It was founded by Henry 
Castro, a Frenchman of great ciilturo and executive ability. 



sweet will over the grass-carpeted plains, which arc seemingly boundless as the 
ocean. The grandeur, the rugged beauty of these mighty table-lands will for 
many years yet be enjoyed only by the Indian ; he makes a good fight there. 
South-west from Fort Concho runs a defensive line, dotted with Forts Stock- 
ton, Davis, Hultman, and Bliss, the latter opposite El Paso, at the extreme 
western limit of Texas, and nearly seven hundred miles from San Antonio, at the 
entrance of the mountain passes of Chihuahua. Service in this department is no 
child's play; it is a rough and tumultuous school; and to see the general activity, 
one wonders that more is not actually accomplished. 

Neajo Soldiers of the San Antonio Garrison. 

Railroads alone can solve the question. As it is, the thirty-five hundred men 
in the department, whether officered by General Auger, the present department 
commander, or General Grant, cannot catch and punish the evil-minded Indians. 
The soldiers are rarely attacked; the alert and logical savage seeks a peaceful 
prey rather than a fight with men as well armed as himself Never advertising 
his coming, as the soldiers too often do, he rarely meets them. He is all eyes 
and ears ; the tiniest cloud of dust on the horizon announces to him the approach 
of some one; he notes the faintest tremor among the grasses, and knows what 
it signifies; hie detects a little imprint on the turf, and can decide at once whether 
or not it is that of a soldier's foot, or a white man's horse. 

When he mounts a hill, he looks about to see if there is anything stirring on 
the plain ; and if there be, he hides until he knows what it is. It is easy to see 
that recruits and unpracticed frontiersmen cannot fight such people as these. 
Very few soldiers are harmed ; it is mainly the innocent settlers, who have no 


idea of protecting themselves, who suffer. Since 1866 over 300 unoffending 
Texans have been killed by murderous Indians and Mexicans. 

Great care is necessary in traversing the plains, even with an escort of soldiers. 
A gentlcfnan, returning from Fort Clark, once strayed ahead of the main party 
and was found, with arrows sticking in him and minus his scalp, dead. The 
Indians even hovered around the Government commissioners, on their journey 
from Eagle Pass to Laredo. For efficiency's sake, the Texans should be allowed 
in some way to take the matter of subduing the Indians and protecting their fron- 
tier against the Mexicans into their own hands. 

Wonderful land of limitless prairie, of beautiful rivers and strange foliage — • 
land where there is room to breathe full breaths — land beyond which there 
seem no boundary lines — the railroad will yet subdue you ! Then there will be 
no more mystery in your plains — your chaparral thickets — your groves of post 
oak and pecan — your cypress-bordered streams — your grand ranges — your sun- 
burnished stretches. Stage routes will be forgotten ; the now rapidly decaying 
native Indian tribes will stray into some unexplored nook, never to sally forth 
again. The Rio Grande will no longer be a boundary, and the Sierra Madre's 
rocky gaps will echo back the sharp accents of the American tongue. All this 
in a few years, unless the tokens fail ! 



ITANDING in the main street of Denison, Texas, the new town near the 
I southern border of the Indian Territory, six hundred and twenty-one miles 

south-west of St. 
Louis, it was hard 
to reaHze that only 
four months before 
my visit its site 
was almost a wil- 
derness, not a 
building of any 
kind having yet 
been erected there. 
For all around us 
was Babel — a wild 
rush of business, 
a glory in affairs, 
an unbounded de- 
light in mere la- 
bor, by which I 
was at once op- 
pressed and ap- 

The slightest 
indication of prog- 
ress was pointed 
out as a gigantic 
foreshadowing of 
the future preem- 
inence of Deni- 
son. "There are 
from 2,500 to 
3,000 people here 
now," said one 
gentleman to us ; 
"how's that for 
four months? 
That'll make some 
of the incredulous 

Scene in a Gambling House — "Playing Keno ' — Ui-iuaoi 



l.I Kl 11 OV DKNISON. 

folks take their frame houses off from the rollers!" — an expression intended t;") 
open up a startliuL,^ prospect for the future of Denison. But, indeed, all these 
enthusiastic ])ioneers of a new civilization ^\■ere justified in their seemingly wild 
prophecies of greatness. Northern Texds, under the beneficent influences of 
railroad pioneering, is assuming a prominence which had ne\'er been imagined 
for it until witliin the last five years. 

As soon as the Missouri, Kansas and Texas niilway had crossed the Red 
river, a stream of immigration, which the most sanguine had not hoped for, set 
in. The North-west seemed to move r;? masse. The tracts of fertile, black- 
wax land, which literally needed but to be tickled with the plough to smile a 


"Men drunk and subcr danced to rude music." [Page 177.] 

harvest, were rapidly taken up, and Denison sprang into existence as the chief 
town of the newly developed region. It was organized four months before my 
visit, and since that time the Denison Town Company had sold $90,000 worth of 
building lots. The town stands in a county absolutely free from debt, and is 
at the outlet of one of the most fertile farming regions of the world. Two 
railroads, coming to it from opposite points, and not costing it a cent, laid the 
foundation for its remarkable advance, an advance more like magic than like the 
normal growth of a pioneer settlement. 

All the lumber for the houses and business establishments was brought 
hundreds of miles, there being none suitable in the vicinity ; and the car-loads 


of material were changed into rough but commodious structures in a twinkling. 
It was exceedingly remarkable, also, that in a community one-half of which was 
undoubtedly made up of professional ruffians, " terminus" gamblers, and the 
offscourings of society, and where there was not yet a regularly organized gov- 
ernment, there was not more of terrorism. 

Every third building in the place was a drinking saloon with gambling appur- 
tenances, filled after nightfall with a depraved, adventurous crowd, whose 
profanity was appalling, whose aspect was hideous. Men drunk and sober 
danced to rude music in the poorly- lighted saloons, and did not lack female 
partners. In vulgar bestiality of language, in the pure delight of parading 
profanity and indecency, the ruffian there had no equal. The gambling houses 
were nightly frequented by hundreds. Robberies were, of course, of frequent 
occurrence in the gambling hells, and perhaps are so still ; but in the primitive 
hotels, where tlie luckless passengers from the Missouri, Kansas and Texas 
railway awaited a transfer by stage to Sherman, and where they were packed 
three or four together in beds in a thinly-boarded room through whose cracks 
rain might fall and dust blow, they were as safe from robbery or outrage as 
in any first-class house. Rough men abounded, and would, without doubt, 
have knocked any one upon the head who should find himself alone, unarmed, 
and late at night, in their clutches. But the carrying of concealed weapons is so 
expressly forbidden by the laws of Texas, that cases of shooting rarely occurred, 
and there was no more danger to the life or limb of the traveler than may be 
met with on Broadway. I Avas too late to see the Denison where rascals had 
held supreme sway. Their regime vanished when the railroad crossed the 
Red river. 

The business men of Denison are a stern, self-reliant, confident company. 
They have a thorough belief in Northern Texas ; intend to tame its wildness, and 
make it one of the gardens of the world. The Kansas and Missouri and Illinois 
and Western New York character crops out everywhere in Denison, and is the 
chief rehance of the town. 

The aboriginal Texan looks on, and admires the energy displayed, but he 
takes good care not to mix in the fray too much himself There is something 
sublimely impudent, charmingly provoking, in the manner in which he disappears 
from work and the street when a cold "Norther" comes on; in the cool, defiant 
way in which he forces others to work for him, and the utter surprise he mani- 
fests when he is accused of droning. He is a child of the sun ; he dislikes effort ; 
it gives him no gratification to labor in the rough ways of a new town like 

Yet this same man can leap to the level of a hero when his rights are 
assailed ; can bathe a San Jacinto plain with his best blood ; can stand at an 
Alamo's breastworks until covered with wounds, and can ride at the head of a 
brigade into the very gates of death without losing one iota of his magnificent 

But the old population of Northern Texas is rapidly assimilating with the 
new-comers, and there is no longer any vestige of the intolerance which made a 



Texan resfard a strantrer as an intruder. Neither is it safe in a new town like 
Denison to judge a man, as we are forced to do in large cities, by his outer garb 
and manners. The huge hulking fellow with one check distended with tobacco, 
and with his clothes all so disposed that they seem to have been thrown upon 
him, will answer you with all the courtesy and grace of a high-bred gentleman, 
and will show a consideration for your opinions and your remarks which you do 
not always receive from the Jiabitiic's of a city. The roughness is exterior only, 
and he who contents himself with a passing glance will not penetrate to the 
sterling qualities which that exterior conceals. 

The earnestness of the new town, the almost religious quality of its ambition, 
were amusing as well as inspiring. Everyone talked in exaggerated phrase; land 
values were fictitious ; the estimates of immigration were overdrawn ; the " prob- 
abilities" were certainly elastic, but there was such hope ! Many men who had 
only been in Texas a year or two had already become rich, enhancing, at the 
same time, the value of property in the localities in which they had settled. In 
the little boarded newspaper office there was the same dauntless ambition ; in the 
saloon, again the same. " Sherman ain't nothin' to this yer," said one man to 
me ; " we 've got the riffle on her on saloons." He could not even allow a neigh- 
bor town a preeminence in vice. " General Sheridan 's going to build a supply 
depot here, 'n' then you '11 see !" Avas the final, annihilating rejoinder administered 
to a carping Shermanite in our hearing. All the inhabitants were determined to 
make a magnificent city out of this irregular group of one-story w^ooden build- 
ings, confusedly located on the high rolling land four miles south of the Red river, 
and their zeal was both to them and to us "like new wine." 

He would, indeed, be a brave man who should, at this writing, prophesy that 
the great new route to the Gulf will redeem the Indian Territory from its present 
isolation, and bring it into the Union first as on probation, and finally as a State. 
Nevertheless, the people of the south-west are firmly convinced that such will be 

the case, and, for various important rea- 
sons, the inhabitants of Northern Texas 
earnestly desire it. The existence of 
such an immense frontier, so near to the 
newly settled districts of Texas, enables 
rogues of all grades to commit many 
crimes with impunity, for, once over the 
border, a murderer or a horse-thief can 
hide in the hills or in some secluded val- 
ley until his pursuers are fatigued, and 
can then make his way out in another 

So frequent had this method of es- 
cape become, at the time of the founding 
of Denison, that the law-abiding citizens 
were enraged ; and the famous deputy- 
.j^gjjj^i,,. sheriff, "Red Hall," a young man of 


great courage and unflinching " nerve," determined to attempt the capture of 
some of the desperadoes. Arming himself with a Winchester rifle, and with his 
belt garnished with navy revolvers, he kept watch on certain professional crim- 
inals. One day, soon after a horse-thief had been heard from in a brilliant 
dash of grand larceny, he repaired to the banks of the Red river, confident that 
the thief would attempt to flee. 

In due time, the fugitive and two of his friends appeared at the river, all 
armed to the teeth, and while awaiting the ferry-boat, were visited by Hall, who 
drew a bead upon them, and ordered them to throw down their arms. They 
refused, and a deadly encounter was imminent; but he finally awed them into sub- 
mission, threatening to have the thief's comrades arrested for carrying concealed 
weapons. They delivered up their revolvers and even their rifles, and fled, and 
the horse-thief, rather than risk a passage-at-arms with the redoubtable Hall, 
returned with him to Denison, after giving the valiant young constable some 
ugly wounds on the head with his fist. The passage of the river having thus 
been successfully disputed by the law, the rogues became somewhat more wary. 

"Red Hall" seemed to bear a charmed life. He moved about tranquilly 
every day in a community where there were doubtless an hundred men Vv'ho 
would have delighted to shed his blood ; was often called to interfere in broils 
at all hours of the night; yet his life went on. He had been ambushed and 
shot at, and threatened times innumerable, yet had always exhibited a scorn 
for his enemies, which finally ended in forcing them to admire him. When 
he visited me on my arrival in Denison, he remarked, " I shall see you in Sher- 
man Monday, as I have some prisoners to take to court there ;" but Monday 
morning, as I was starting for Sherman, he informed me that when he awoke in 
the morning, he was surrounded by armed men ; a pistol was held under his 
nose ; and he was told that he was arrested at the instance of the United States 
Marshal, to whom some one had been retailing slanders concerning him. Even 
as he spoke he was vigilantly guarded by armed men. But in the afternoon he 
was free again — once more in authority, and awing the ruffians into a proper 

The tracks of the great railway connecting Northern Texas with the outer 
world had but just been completed to Denison when I visited the town, but the 
huge freight-houses were already filled with merchandise awaiting transportation 
to the interior. The Overland Transportation Company was closing its books, for 
the Texas Central railway line was expected in a few weeks to reach the Red 
river, and the great Gulf route would be complete. 

Staging to Sherman, we passed immense wagon-trains of merchandise, creak- 
ing forward through the wax-like soil, which clung in such masses to the wheels 
that the teams stopped from time to time, discouraged. Gangs of stout fellows 
from Illinois and Missouri were marching along the highways, en route for the 
railroad lines which they were to aid in constructing; mule-teams, drawing loads 
of lumber, each team driven by a six-foot Texan with a patriarchal beard, passed 
us; wild-looking men mounted on horses or mules, with rifles slung over shoul- 
ders, and saddle-bags stuffed with game, cantered by. 

I Ho 

uiscou KAc.KJ) I M M h;k A Nis — iitK syuAKK IN siii:kman, 

Somclinics \vc met a discouraj^ed company, painfully forcing its way back 
toward sunrise, the patcrfa7nilias driving a span of sorry mules which dragged 
a weary wagon-load of grumbling and disheartened family. So, faring forward 
through forest and brake, over creeks and under hills, beside smiling fields and 
along mournrul wastes, into primitive clearings and out of forsaken nooks, and 
crannies where civilization had only made the wilderness look worse, we reached 
Sherman, the forty->'ear-ol(l shire town of Grayson county. 

The Public Square in Sherman, Texas. 

Glorious sunlight enlivened the town as we entered it, and intensest activity 
prevailed, the county court being in session. The town is built around a square, 
in the centre of which stands a low, unpainted wooden building, known as the 
Court-House. The "grand jury" was not far from the aforesaid building, as we 
drew up at the hotel opposite it, and was to outward appearance a collection of 
rough, sensible farmers, impressed with a full sense of their duty. The horses on 
which half-a-hundred of the neighboring farmers had ridden in to attend to their 
marketing and upon the sessions of the court, were hitched at a common hitch- 
ing frame not far from the court-house ; and in the centre of the square a noisy 
auctioneer, whom the Texans were regarding with admiring eyes, was bawling 
out his wares. The plank sidewalks were crammed with tall youths, in patched 
homespun; with negroes, whose clothing was a splendid epitome of color; with 


spruce speculators — Northerners and Westerners — dressed in the latest styles; 
with dubious-looking characters, who shrank a little apart from the common gaze, 
as if afraid of the day- light; with swine, that trotted hither and yon; and with 
the hook-nosed and loud-voiced Israelites, who are found in every city and 
hamlet throughout the South. 

Large numbers of people seemed diligently engaged in doing nothing what- 
ever, or in frankly enjoying the delicious sunlight, which gave new glory and 
picturesqueness to everything upon which it rested. Now and then a soft breeze 
came gently from the up- negro crawled to the side- 

lands, and softened the effect JS^"^^ ^*%ii=*. walk's edge, and with his 

of this generous sun. The ^^"A?| fc « \, ^^^^ ^^ ^^ mud, blinked like 

excited gambler came out ^^^^vl*i«c#s^^\ ^ an owl in the fierce glare; the 
to bathe his livid face in ■< with swine thli^roueri^ither stage-drivers swore round 
zephyr and sunlight ; the ^"'^ ^■°"" but rather jocund oaths at 

the rearing and plunging mules drawing the coaches for Denison, McKinney, 
and other little towns ; and the big negro who guarded the court-house door 
twirled the great key majestically, and looked ferocious. 

Although it was midwinter, the day was as perfect as one in June at the 
North ; but the languor which stole over us was purely Southern, as I imagined 
myself to be dreaming away the afternoon in lazy abandon and irresolute com- 
fort, spiced only with the charm of studying new types of a common nationality. 
Toward evening there was absolute tranquillity all over the place. Not even 
a loud word was spoken. The dusky figures who sat crouched in the porch of 
our hotel, mutely regarding the glories of the setting sun, seemed almost in the 
act of worship. 

Denison was a yearling when I saw it for the second time, and the most won- 
derful changes had meanwhile taken place. The Texas Central railway line was 
completed. Northern and Southern Texas were connected, and Pullman cars 
were running through the untamed prairies. The gamblers and ruffians had fled. 
Denison had acquired a city charter ; had a government, and the rabble had 
departed before law could reach them. A smart new hotel, near the railroad, was 
doing a driving business, hundreds of people thronging its dining-rooms. 

Above Denison, at the river, another town had sprung up, a child of the 
Texas Central, and ambitiously named " Red River City." Newsboys called the 
daily paper about the streets of Denison; we heard of the opera-house; we saw 
the announcement of church services ; and the notices of meetings for the dis- 
cussion and advocacy of new railroad routes were numerous. 

I confess to a certain feeling of disappointment in not having found more 
marked peculiarities of the people of Texas. There are, of course, phases and 
bits of dialect which distinguish them from the inhabitants of other sections ; but 
even the rude farmer in the back-country is not as singular as he has been repre- 
sented. In extreme Southern and extreme Northern Texas, the visitor from the 
North or West sees but little variation from his own types in the cities ; and yet 
in the remote districts he may find more ignorance and less idea of comfort than 
he would have thought possible in America. 



There arc a good many instances of rude and incult rich men; people who 
are of the old regime, and who, while owning thousands of cattle, sheep, and 
horses, live in log-houses, eat mean food, and have scarcely more than one suit of 
clothes in ten years. But these people are quietly disappearing before the new- 
comers. At first they are fierce against innovation, and indignant at frame 
houses, railroad stations, and saloons ; but finding that they must yield or retire, 
they acquiesce. 

The general characteristics of an old style Texan farm were unthrift and 
untidiness ; the land was never half tilled, because it produced enough to support 
life without being highly cultivated. When a fence fell into decay, — if by some 
strange chance there was a fence, — the rails or boards lay where they fell; people 

Bridge over the Red River — (Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railway). 

grew up like weeds, and choked each other's growth. Those who held slaves 
counted their wealth in " niggers," and sometimes boasted that they were worth 
a hundred thousand dollars, while living in meaner and more uncomfortable 
fashion than the poorest Irishman at the North. 

The only amusement of \\\q paterfainilias was a hunt, or a ride to the county 
seat in court time, where, in days when every one carried arms, there was usually 
some exciting event to disturb the monotony of existence — perhaps to disturb 
existence itself. There was no market, no railroad within hundreds of miles, no 
newspaper, no school, save perhaps some private institution miles from the farm 
or plantation, and no intellectual life or culture whatever. 

The rich slave-owner was a kind of patriarchal savage, proud of his own dirt 
and ignorance. The heroic epoch of the struggle for independence being over, 
thousands of persons settled down to such life as this, and thought it vastly fine. 
What a magnificent awakening has come to them ! ~ 

The mass of people in the interior still have a hearty scorn for anything 
good to eat. The bitter coffee, and the greasy pork, or "bacon," as it is always 
called, still adorns the tables of most farmers. A railroad president, inspecting a 
route in Northern Texas, stopped at a little house for dinner. The old lady of the 
homestead wishing to treat her guest with becoming dignity, inquired in the 
kindest manner, after having spread the usual food before him, "Won't ye have 


a little bacon fat to wallop your corn dodgers in now, won't ye ? " This was the 
acme of hospitalit}' in that region. 

Now and then, in these days of immigration, a housewife will venture a timid 
" Reckon ye don't think much of our home-made fare, do ye? " when the visitor 
is a stranger ; and, indeed, he shows upon his face his wonder that a well-to-do 
farmer's stout sons and pretty daughters are satisfied with pork and molasses and 
clammy biscuits, with no vegetables Avhatever. 

The negro is responsible for the introduction of such oceans of grease into 
Texan cookery ; it suited his taste, and the white people for whom he cooked 
mutely accepted it, just as they insensibly accepted certain peculiarities of his 
dialect, — notably "dat 'ar" and "disyer," and "furder" for further; mispronun- 
ciation which it makes one stare to hear good-looking white people use, as if they 
supposed it correct. The Texan has one phrase by which he may easily be 
recognized abroad : " I reckon so," with the accent on the last word, is his com- 
mon phrase of assent. In the country, when riding on horseback, and inquiring 
how far it is to a certain place, you wall now and then be told that it is "two 
sights and a look," w^hich you must understand if you can. 

There is in Western Texas a more highly-colored, vivid, and dramatic manner 
of talk than in the rest of the State, doubtless the result of long contact with 
the Spaniard and Mexican. In parts of Northern Texas, too, among some 
classes, there is a profanity which exceeds anything I have ever encountered 
elsewhere. In Western Texas it is fantastic, and, so to speak, playful. I once 
traveled from Galveston to Houston in the same car with a horse-drover, who will 
serve as an example. This man was a splendid specimen of the Texan of the 
plains, robust and perfectly formed. There was a certain chivalrous grace and 
freedom about all his movements which wonderfully impressed one. His clean- 
cut face was framed in a dark, shapely beard and moustache, which seemed as if 
blown backward by the wind. He wore a broad hat with a silver cord around 
it, and I felt impelled to look for his sword, his doublet, and his spurs, and to 
fancy that he had just stepped out of some Mexican romance. 

His conversation was upon horses, his clear voice ringing high above the 
noise of the car-wheels, as he laughingly recounted anecdotes of adventures 
on ranches in the West, nearly every third word being an oath. He caress- 
ingly cursed ; he playfully damned ; he cheerfully invoked all the evil spirits 
that be ; he profaned the sacred name, dwelling on the syllables as if it were a 
pet transgression, and as if he feared that it would be too brief. 

Even in bidding his friend good-by, he cursed as heartily as an English 
boatswain in a storm, but always wdth the same cheeriness, and w^ound up by 
walking oft" lightly, laughing and murmuring blasphemous assent to his friend's 
last proposition. 

Some of the small towns in the interior are indeed trials to him who must 
long stay in them. My severest experience was in a Northern Texan "metrop 
olis," — its name shall be spared, — where the main hotel was a new board struc- 
ture, without the suspicion of ceiling or lathing on the premises, and through 
whose roof one could see the stars. The front office was about the size of a 


New England wood-box; and when some twenty persons, variously impregnated 
with questionable liquids, had gathered therein, the effluvia became shocking. 

In the long, creaking supper- room beyond, a dirty cloth was laid on a dirtier 
table, and pork, fried to a cinder and swimming in grease hot enough to scorch 
the palate, was placed before the guests. To this was presently added, by the 
hands of a tall, angular, red-haired woman, a yellow mass of dough supposed to 
be biscuit, a cup of black, bitter bean-juice named coffee, and as a crowning 
torture, a mustard-pot, with very watery mustard in it. 

This, the regular sustenance, I suppose, of the unfortunate people of that 
town, was so unusually bad that I forthwith desired to be shown my room ; and 
was ushered into a creaking loft, over a whiskey saloon wherein a mob of 
drunken railroad laborers were quarreling, and threatening, with the most out- 
rageous profanity, to annihilate each other. To the music of these revels I 
attempted to lull my wearied body to repose ; but did not succeed, and went to 
the four-in-the-morning train unrefreshed. 

Even at the station my troubles were not at an end, for on venturing to 
expostulate with an employe for not checking my baggage, he profanely con- 
demned me, adding that " It's mighty easy to get up a fight in Texas." Had I 
remained twenty-four hours longer in that town, it is my firm belief that I 
should have been accommodated with a complete and thorough exposition of all 
the eccentric features generally accredited to the society of the State. 

The people of Texas suffered greatly from the war; thousands were ruined 
by it. Young and old together went to the fight, returning only to find ruin 
staring them in the face, and the poverty which was so bitter hangs by them still. 
The sudden fall from large fortune to day-labor, so general in Louisiana, smote 
Texas sternly. But never, on the whole, was a people more cheery. It is 
resolved to rebuild and to accept the advent of 

" New men, new faces, other minds." 

The beauty of the fair Southern land is but faintly shadowed in these pages. 
It is too intense to admit of transfer. But no visitor will ever forget the magic 
of the climate — never guilty of the extremes of heat or cold which we suffer 
in the North, and yet so varied that the most fastidious may suit themselves 
within home boundaries ; one cannot forget the attractive wildness of the great 
western plains, nor the tropic luxuriance of the southern shore. 

He cannot forget his pilgrimage to rock-strewn Mount Bonnell, Austin's 
guardian mountain ; nor the Colorado running between its steep banks, with the 
wooded slopes beyond melting softly into the ethereal blue ; nor the long, white 
roads, bordered by graceful live oaks ; nor the bayous, along which the whip- 
poor-wills and chuck-will's-widows keep up lively chorus all night long. 

Nor will one visitor forget how, just at dawn, he saw a troop of hundreds of 
Texan cattle fording a shallow stream, and leaving a track of molten silver behind 
them, as the sun smote the ripples made by their hurrying feet; nor how, by 
night, as the slowly-moving train stole across the country, millions of fire-flies 
flashed about the fields ; how gaunt and weary emigrants gathered in groups 


around the camp fires ; how, now and then, some weary figure, bent and ragged, 
stole up behind the train with pack upon its back, plodding its way toward the 
land of promise ; how the darkies at the little stations where the iron horse 
stopped to refresh himself, sang quaint songs as they threw the wood into the 
tender ; how mahogany-colored old women besieged him with platters, covered 
with antique " spring chicken " and problematic biscuits ; how hale, stalwart 
old men with patriarchal beards and extraordinary appetites for tobacco, talked 
with him of the rising glory of Texas, impressing upon him that this is a mighty 
State, sir ; fast rising to the lead, sir ; has come out of the war gloriously, sir ; 
and, sir, enough for all the world in her broad acres, sir ; yes, sir. 

Nor will he forget the motley throng of Mexican prisoners, straggling into 
the streets of Austin, charged with murder most foul, their great eyes glittering 
with demoniac hatred under the gray of their sombreros ; nor the pretty maidens 
dismounting from their restive ponies at the "horse-blocks" in front of the shops, 
and trailing their long overskirts before the merchants' windows ; nor the groups 
of negroes at the corners, chattering like parroquets. 

Nor the disguised army detective, slouching about the public places in the 
clothes of a western ranchero, prospecting for deserters ; nor the gaunt teamsters 
from the borders of the San Marcos, the Guadalupe, or the San Antonio, with 
their half-melancholy, half- ferocious look; nor the erect military figure of "the 
governor," with his keen, handsome face and blond Prussian moustache. 

Nor th^ typical land agent, with his bland smile and diffuse conversation 
about thousand-acre tracts and superb locations ; nor the dusty and pallid travel- 
ers descending from the El Paso stage, their Winchester rifles in their hands, 
and their nerves strained with eight hundred miles of adventurous stage travel. 

Nor can he forget how, one morning, on the banks of the beautiful Colorado, 
a ghastly cross-tree affronted the sky, while around a platform a great throng of 
white, and black, and brown men, American, and negro, and Mexican, gathered to 
see two men die. He will remember how the criminals came to the gallows and 
gazed round from the scaffold in search of some sympathetic desperado to help 
them; how, in his despair at finding none, one of them, in derision, broke into a 
shuffling dance, and after making a blackguard speech, fainted as the rope was 
placed about his guilty neck ; how the crowd jeered at and mocked the two men 
until the scene was over, leaving the vacant gallows to stand as a perpetual warning. 

Nor will he forget the moonlit evenings in the gardens of the southern coast, 
where the thick clumps of cedar joined their heavy perfume to that of the mag- 
noha; where the rose and the myrtle vied in fragrance, and the dagger-tree 
spread its sharp leaves defiantly ; where the snow-white of the jessamine peered 
from the darkness; where the China-tree showered its strange fruit on the turf; 
the fig put forth its tender shoots; the orange and the oleander, the verbenas and 
the pansies all looked coquettishly out of their midwinter beds at the Northern 
new-comer, seeming to smile at his wonder; where the grape trellises were 
covered with clinging vines ; and where strange birds sang songs in consonance 
with the lapping of the waters on the Gulf shore, and with the intense hum of 
the unseen insect life, rising and falling like a magnificent harmony. 



A TOURNEY from Sedalia, in Missouri, through the Indian Territory to Deni- 
son, will enable one to appreciate properly the vastness of the south- 
west, and the magnitude of the railway projects so constantly carried into 
execution there. 

The ruder aspects of Sedalia, the Missourian terminus of the Missouri, 
Kansas and Texas railway, have vanished before the march of improvement, and 
the town has arisen from the low level of a speculative frontier village, where the 
tenure of life and position in society was very uncertain, to the grade of an 

important junction, and a city of 
prominence. It is not very long 
since the revolver was the su- 
preme arbiter in all disputes in 
Sedalia, — since, indeed, the streets 
were cleared of all peaceable men 
in an instant, whenever there was 
prospect of a quarrel between the 
bloodthirsty thieves and ruffians 
who infested the whole adjacent 

The drift of iniquity from the 
impromptu towns along the Union 
Pacific line came into Missouri, 
Kansas, and the Indian Territory, 
as soon as the project of the new 
route to the Gulf was broached, 
and brought with it murder and 
wholesale robbery. The men who 
had been attracted to Missouri 
from the States of Illinois and 
Ohio, and from portions of Kansas, 
by the excellent chances to enrich 
themselves in land speculations, 
were appalled by the conduct 
of the drunken and ferocious 
fiends who came to haunt the new 
towns. The projectors of the 


new route to the Gulf had to face this criminal clement and to submit to its 
presence in their midst. Often it was the stronger, and openly defied law, 
as is now the case in certain sections of the West. But the pioneers of the route 
had had their schooling in new lands ; the engineers and builders were men of 
muscle and brain, of coolness and " nerve," and moved quietly but irresistibly 
forward, amid the harassing outrages of a mean and cowardly banditti, whose 
chief precept was assassination, and whose trade was rapine. 

With dauntless energy, courage, and industry, and by the aid of generously 
expended capital, these pioneers of the Missouri, Kansas and Texas railway 
worked steadfastly, and in three and a-half years laid 551 miles of solidly-con- 
structed track, or a little over half a mile for every working day. When they 
took up their task, the anguish of the war was hardly ended ; the total disorgan- 
ization of society consequent on the radical changes inaugurated in the lately 
slaveholding States made many of the conditions of life and labor onerous and 
disagreeable ; but the superb end hoped for always made the difficult means 
easier to work with. 

To-day a tract of country which, two years ago, was comparatively as 
unknown to the masses of our citizens as Central Africa, is now easily accessible; 
palace cars convey the traveler over the rich plains of the Indian territory from 
St. Louis, with its legacy of more than a century's history, to Denison, the 
young giant of Northern Texas, with its records of a year. 

Two New Yorkers, Messrs. George Denison and David Crawford, jr., gave 
the railway its first financial status, and brought it before the eyes of the world 
with its respectability thoroughly guaranteed, and its objects all properly 
explained. The enterprise, originally known as the Southern branch of the 
Union Pacific Railway Company, was magnificent in scope, and found ready 
support from men of large minds and ample means. 

The system north of the Red river, when perfected, was intended to compre- 
hend more than 1,000 miles; and the proposed extension south of the Red river 
would amount to i,ooo more. The scheme was that of a grand vertebral line 
through Texas, via Waco and Austin, to Camargo on the west bank of the Rio 
Grande ; thence almost due south, through Monterey, Saltillo, Zacatecas, San 
Luis Potosi, and Queretaro, to the City of Mexico. 

The company, in constructing its railway and branches through Missouri and 
Kansas, asked but few favors of the States. It has built the road mainly with its 
own money, and has shown the true pioneering spirit in boldly pushing its tracks, 
at an enormous expense, through the Indian Territory, without waiting for the 
settlement of the question of the distribution of lands there. The same indomit- 
able pluck and persistent effort will doubtless be shown in the future building of 
Texas and Mexican extensions. 

The Legislature of Texas has accorded the company organization under a 
special law, and the general law gives to any railway built within the State limits 
extensive land grants, so that the people will not be subjected to burdensome 
taxation, and in a few years the outside world will suddenly discover that a 
journey to Mexico is no more difficult than the present journey to New 

1 88 


Orleans, and that new lands and territories have been opened up to speculation 
and profit as if by magic. But the plan is not limited merely to this. It is 
possible that in future the line may extend from where it now joins the Houston 
and Texas Central railway at Denison, southward, down the valley of the Trinity, 

— the richest in Eastern Texas, — to Gal- 
veston, with a branch to the waters of 
Sabine Bay, which route to the Gulf, it 
is claimed, would save from 700 to 1,200 
miles of railway transportation upon all 
the foreign importations and exportations 
of the West Mississippi States and Terri- 
tories, over shipments via the Atlantic 
ports. The value of the Texas business 
will also be immense ; and should the Mis- 
souri, Kansas and Texas railway lines 
touch the Gulf, there will be travel and 
trade enough for it and for the Interna- 
tional and Great Northern and the Houston 
"The Pet Conductor." ^nd Tcxas Central, even though they double 

their tracks and rolling stock. Besides this, the branch from Sedalia, extend- 
ing across the Missouri river at Booneville, to Moberly, Missouri, gives a mag- 
nificent direct line from Chicago to Galveston. 

As the Indian Territory boasts no towns worthy the name along either of the 
two lines of rail which penetrate its domain, the railroad company placed at the 
disposition of our party a superb hotel car, equipped with kitchen, drawing, and 
sleeping-room. The larder of the traveling-home was well stocked ; engineer, 
fireman, and brakeman took their rifles, prepared for an encounter with deer, or 
to chase the cautious wild turkey ; and a merry party, one frosty morning in 
January of 1873, rattled out of Sedalia. Both artist and writer were fascinated 
with this perfection of travel, this journeying so 
thoroughly at one's own will, with power to stop 
at every turn, and with no feeling of haste. The 
presiding genii of the train, "the Pet Conductor" 
and " Charlie," made the travel through the 
wilds as comfortable as the journey of an em- 
peror. Wherever it seemed to us good, we dis- 
missed our train to a side track, and wandered off. 
The Missouri towns in this section were passed 
over with a cursory glance, as being so much 
alike in general character. Windsor was a sleepy 
place ; Calhoun sleepier and older. The latter 
village was a cluster of ill-looking buildings, grouped around a muddy square. At 
the time we saw it, there was also snow enough to make it uncomfortable. "Yer 
ought to see it Sunday.s," said an informant at the depot, "when them fellows 
get full of tangle-foot. They kin just fight ! " But the railroad is bringing 

' Charlie." 



Calhoun a better future. A little farther on, \\c paused before the entrance to 
a shaft sunk in one of those rich veins of coal which crop out in all this section. 
An old man, dwarfed and bent, but still vigorous, the very image of a gnome, 
conducted us into the narrow galleries, a hundred and fifty feet below the 
surface, where we crawled on our hands and knees along passages scarcely 
three feet high, examining the superb strata into which the railway company 
delves for fuel. A railway built over a coal-bed gives its corporation no cause 
for complaint, although, far as the eye can reach, on either hand, there may be 
scarcely a stick of timber to be seen. 

The men and women in these small Missouri towns had a grave, preoccupied 
look, doubtless born of the hard ways of the West. The farming population in 
that section is 
none too prosper- 
ous, and rarely 
has any ready 
money. The im- 
mense dispropor- 
tion between the 
cost of labor and 
implements for 
producing crops, 
and the prices 
of the produce it- 
self, has made sad 
havoc with many 
brilliant pros- 
pects. At that 
time, throughout 

that part of the ' ^' ~ 

South-west, the 

tillers of the soil were savagely discon- 
tent. Many with whom we conversed 

spoke with great bitterness of the difficulty of obtain- _7* ^^^ 
ing proper representation in Congress on the ^=--^ 

subject of their grievances. In this first day's journeying it 
was curious to note how the advent of the railway had caused 
whole towns and villages to change their location, and come tumbling ^1 
miles across the prairie, to put themselves in direct communication with the J 
outer world. Sometimes, at a little station, we were shown, far ofif on the 
horizon, a landmark of the village's former site, and told that the citizens one da>r 
set their houses upon wheels, and had them dragged by long trains of oxen to the 
railway line. For a time everything was in transition ; people had to give up 
church on Sundays until the "meeting-house came over to the new village;' a 
gambling-hell, and the house of a pious citizen often jogging along for days in 
friendly company. Sometimes a great wind, turning a whole migratory village 


DISCOURAC: Kl) (.OiMM V N I'l' I K S . 

upside down, would compel the vigorous " bull-whackers" to shout themselves 
hoarse in their efforts to right things. 

Instances of discouraged towns were abundant on every hand. Here and 
there we came to a long street, bordered by white one-story board structures 
and plank walks, and inhabited by a btvy of dejected and annoyed colonists, 
forever cursing their lack of judgment in not having selected the site destined 
t(^ be the great railway city of the South-west. Entering the shop of the 
humblest tradesman, we were at once the centre of an admiring and awe- 
stricken group, every person in jt manifesting surprise that commerce in that 
especial locality had revived even to the extent of the expenditure of a ten-cent 
scrip. In such towns, the hotel was usually a small, frail, frame structure, kept 
by a giant of a man, with a disappointed face and a sour and envious manner 

"A sl'jck- train from Scdalia was receiving a squealing and bellowing freight. ' (Page 191.] 




'The old Hospital" — Fort Scott. [Page 192.) 

of greeting — a manner grafted upon liim by the hard facts of pioneer life, but 
which it was easy to see beHed his real nature. The women were silent, im- 
passive, laborious, seeming to have forsworn folly of every kind, and to be delving 
at Nature with desperate will, determined to wrench riches from her, even though 
the golden oppor- 
tunity had moved on. 

After Charles had 
made all tidy for bed 
within the palace-car, 
on the first evening 
of the journey, we 
wandered among the 
drovers and herdsmen 
at one of the great 
stock -yards on the 
railway line. A 
stock - train from Se- 
dalia was receiving a 
squealing and bellow- 
ing freight as we 
reached the yards, 
leading from which to the car door ran an inclined plane. Along the outer side 
of the fence inclosing this plane stood a dozen stout men, armed with long poles 
and pitchforks. Presently the figure of a man sprang out of the darkness. " Is 
your lot ready, Bill?" with an oath. "Yes!" with an oath; and then to the music 
of other oaths innumerable, a mass of struggling porkers were forced forward to 
the car door. A rain of curses, yells and sharp pitchfork thrusts fell upon their 
defenceless backs. They rushed madly over each other along the crowded way 
into the car, those who lagged behind receiving prods enough to honey-comb an 
elephant's hide. Now and then, before succumbing to the captivity of the car, 
some giant porker would throw down one of his human assailants and give him 
a savage bite — these being none of your luxurious pigs of the civilized sty, but 
sovereign rooters at large brought forth and reared on the prairie. Many a 
drover has carried to his grave the ugly scars given him by Texas steers and 
Missouri swine. 

The next day was Sunday, and the one street of the little town of Appleton, 
where a New York publishing firm has generously built a handsome school-house, 
was lined with tired - looking women and pretty girls moving churchward. 
Rough fellows, who had been occupied all the week with hard labor, mounted 
their ponies and galloped away for a day's hunting. We went on through the 
towns of Nevada and Deerfield to Schell City, a superb location for a fine town, 
and one of the especial favorites of the railway corporation. Thousands of 
acres of" rich land are owned there by the company, and many substantial build- 
ings are already in progress. In the afternoon we came to the prosperous little 
town of Fort Scott, in Kansas, stretched along a range of hills lined with coal. 




Situated directly at the junction of the Kansas City, Fort Scott and Gulf 
railway with the Missouri, Kansas and Texas, and crowded with enterprising and 
industrious citizens. Fort Scott is destined to a large prosperity. The Govern- 
ment post there was long ago deserted ; nothing remains of it but a few barrack 
buildings, grouped around a weed-grown square, and the old hospital, which 
decay aids in rendering picturesque. The building of the new Gulf route has 
had a great influence for good upon Fort Scott and the surrounding country ; 
and although the reclamation of lands of the railway company from people who 
claim to have acquired a title to them by occupancy has occasioned some trouble, 
it is expected that a satisfactory arrangement may be reached. 

This was a lawless section but a few years ago ; now the security of life 
and property are as great as in any community in the world. The era of 
crime passed with the building of the new railway, and found no inducement to 
linger even for a moment. It has been a sweeping change, this metamorphosis 

of Kansas, from the 
condition of a wild 
territory, whose lands 
were held and inhab- 
ited solely by the In- 
dians driven west of 
the Mississippi, into a 
transplanted New 
England. In 1841 
Fort Scott was a post 
with which to hold 
the savages in check ; 
now a full-blooded 
Indian is hardly to be 
met with in the vi- 
cinity. Thirty-five 
miles below Fort Scott 
we came to Osage 

Bndge over the Marmiton River, near Fort Scott miSSion, whcrC 3. gOOd 

Jesuit, Father Schumacher, began his labors among the Indians a quarter of a 
century ago ; and from the mission a rapid run of a few miles brought us to 
Parsons — a thriving town named in honor of the president of the Missouri, 
Kansas and Texas railway. 

Parsons, of course, owes its existence to this road. From the town the route 
extends southward to the Indian Territory and to Texas; and north-west, through 
the thriving towns of Neosho Falls, Burlington, Emporia, and Council Grove, 
the line stretches to Junction City, where the Kansas Pacific joins it. The 
entrepot for the rich regions between the boundary of the Indian Territory and 
the plains, — all the wonderfully fertile Neosho Valley, — it is not surprising that 
the growth of the town has been rapid. Less than a month after Parsons was 
"started," in 1871, upward of one hundred lots, on which parties were pledged 



to put up buildings worth at least $1,000, had been sold; and at present the 
town boasts good hotels, churches, handsome residences, banks, and large stone 
railway shops. Land has already assumed a marked speculative value in many 
of these towns; but at Parsons, as indeed throughout the Neosho Valley, the 
opportunities for invest- 
ment are still magnificent. 
The town is one of the 
great centres for the trade 
and travel of at least fifty 
thriving towns and villages, 
into which the immigration 
from all parts of the West 
is rapidly flowing. The 
valley offers homes to 
thousands of people, on 
terms which the poorest 
man can accept and fulfill. 
All through this rich 
country there is abundance 
of timber — black walnut, 
ash, maple and oak ; and 

A street in Parsons, Kansas 

for steam machinery, there is plenty of coal and 

water ; so that the various implements of agriculture, the furniture, the building 
materials, which are now brought hundreds of miles, from St. Louis and Chicago, 
may be manufactured near at hand, the moment shrewd men of capital can 
induce themselves to operate in so promising an enterprise. 

The Neosho Valley is a revelation to one who has never before visited the 
South-west. Miles on miles of wondrously fertile valleys and plains, watered by 

fine streams, along whose banks is a 
heavy growth of timber, are now 
within easy reach by rail. Hundreds 
of cattle, horses and swine wander at 
will through the fields, guarded only 
against straying into the crops by the 
alert movements of the herdsman,, 
who, well mounted and accompanied 
by a shepherd dog, spends his whole 
time in the open air. The houses of 
the farmers are usually of logs roughly 
hewn, but carefully put together. 
Shelter of crops being rarely necessary 
in such a climate, the granaries are 
somewhat rudely constructed. A 
corn granary is a tower of logs, built like a boy's cobhouse. No one ever thinks 
of stealing from it. The horses career as they please in the front yard, and look 
in at the parlor windows ; the pigs invade the kitchen, or quarrel with the geese 

A Kansas Herdsman. 



at the very steps of the houses; but whenever tiie master of the household thinks 
that discipHne has been too seriously infringed, he sends a sprightly dog to 
regulate matters. Pigs are taken by their ears, geese fly screaming away, and 
horses scamper into the distance. 

As we passed through the reservation of the "Kaw" Indians — the Kansas 
aborigines — our artist could not refrain from capturing a few types, and has 
faithfully sketched for us the little grave by the wayside, with the slain horses 
lying upon it, and the fla^j floating over it, to mark it as the resting-place of a 
chieftain ; the stone house which the graceless Kaw has turned into a stable for 
his pony ; and the warrior galloping across the field in the midst of a pouring 
rain. The Kaws are dirty, lazy, and frequently dishonest beings, — just as far 
from civilization as were their ancestors three hundred years ago. 

They generally refuse to speak English to strangers, and will only converse 
by signs. They still sigh for the time wjjen their forefathers were wont to swoop 

A Kansas Farm - yard. 

down upon the wagon-trains toiling from the Missouri State line to Santa Fe in 
New Mexico, when the traders were almost at the mercy of the tawny banditti, 
until the post of Council Grove, now a flourishing town, was established as a 
general rendezvous, where caravans numbering hundreds of wagons and thou- 
sands of mules could form into processions of sufficient strength to protect 

There were at one time nearly 6,000 men, 18,000 oxen, and 6,000 mules 
engaged in the New Mexico trade, all of whom made Council Grove their head- 
quarters. The villages of the Kaws are remote from the present line of rail, and 
the Indians rarely patronize the road save when, for the pure delight of begging, 
they entreat the conductor for a free passage from one village to another. When 
they are refused the privilege, they break forth into the most violent profanity of 
which the English language is capable. Their vocabulary of English oaths is 
more complete than even that of the native American, who, in many parts of the 
South-west, is charged with violent expletives as a musket is charged with 




■'The little grave, with the slain 

At Junction City, which stands in a beautiful valley, where the Smoky and 
Republican rivers join, in a country not so rich as that twenty miles south, yet 
still wonderfully fertile, we were detained by a sudden snow-fall and a miniature 
whirlwind, which blockaded tracks and made travel 
impossible. The beautiful Smoky Valley was, there- 
fore, a forbidden domain to us ; and we consoled our- 
selves with a visit to Fort Riley, an important frontier 
post, established in 1852, on the left bank of the Kan- 
sas river, at the junction of the Smoky Hill and Repub- 
lican Forks, and three miles from Junction City. 

General Oakes, in command at the post, welcomed us 
with true South-western hospitality. He was for man} 
years stationed in Texas, and has had a rich expe- 
rience of frontier garrison life. This adventurous and 
isolated existence seems to have a charm for all who °^^^ ^""^ "^"^ "' ^^* 
have adopted it, and very few of the officers take advantage of their furloughs 
to visit the Eastern cities. Ladies, too, find rare attractions in a garrison winter, 
and the forts all along the frontier do not lack good society from November 
until May. At Fort Riley the soldiers support a good little theatre, much 
of the talent for which is furnished by members of the cavalry regiment 
quartered there. Not far from the fort is the " geographical centre of the United 
States," on a hill-top, where stands a monument erected to the memory of 
Brevet-Major E. A. Ogden, founder of Fort Riley. 

We hastened back toward Parsons, again crossing the great Kaw reserva- 
tion, and meeting long trains of Indians, mounted on their shaggy ponies. This 
Neosho Valley line, which we had traversed, was the beginning of the present 
great trunk route from Sedalia to the Gulf. Work was begun on it, under 
a contract with the Land Grant Railway and Trust Company, in November, 
1868, the line to extend from Junction City to Chetopa, on the frontier of 
the Indian Territory, a distance of 182 miles; and it was completed in 
October, 1870. 

While this was in construction, the building of the line from Sedalia to Par- 
sons was begun, and the whole route, 160 miles, was completed early in 1871. 
Meantime work was going forward, at lightning speed, in the Indian Territory. 
The manager of the line had made a bold stroke in order to be the first to reach 
the Cherokee country, and obtain permission to run a line through it, as well as 

to get conditional land -grants; and in May of 1870 
occurred quite an episode in the history of railway 
building. On the 24th of that month the line had 
reached within twejity-four miles of the southern 
boundary of Kansas. Much of the grading was 
unfinished ; bridges were not up ; masonry was not 
ready. But on the 6th day of June, at noon, the 
'The stone house which the graceless first locomotive wliich evcr entered the Indian 

Kaw has turned into a stable for ,_ . , . . i • i r 

his pony." [Page 194 ] 1 cmtory uttcrcd its premonitory shriek of progress. 


i' H K INDIAN l' K R K IJ' O K V CHE i O I' A . 

"The warrior galloping across the fields." [Page 194.] 

In eleven days twenty-six and a-half miles of completed rail were laid, four 
miles being put down in a single day. A grant of over 3,000,000 acres of 
land, subject, under treaty stipulations, to temporary Indian occupancy, has been 
accorded the Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railway Company, on the line of the 

road in the territory between Chetopa 
and the Red river. The question of the 
future disposition of the Indian Territo- 
ry is interesting to the railroad builders, 
as they have extended their line through 
the great stretch of country, hoping that 
the fertile lands now waste may come 
into market. Until it is opened to white 
settlement, or until the Indians adopt 
some new policy with regard to their 
lands, the Territory is, in many respects, 
a barrier to the best development of that 
portion of the South-west. The im- 
mense reservation, larger than all New 
England, extending over 60,000,000 
acres, lying between Texas, with her 
1,000,000 settlers, Arkansas, with her hardy 500,000, and Missouri and Kansas, 
with their 2,000,000 of stout frontiersmen, is now completely given over to 
the Indian, and the white man who wishes to abide within its borders will find 
his appeal sternly rejected by an Indian Legislature, unless he marries into 
one of the dusky tribes and relinquishes his allegiance to Uncle Sam. 

A little beyond Chetopa lies a long range 
of low hills. The new Gulf route, cutting 
through them, carries one out of the United 
States and into the Cherokee nation. Here 
the traveler is no longer in the domain of the 
white man ; the Government of the United 
States can protect him only through the fee- 
ble medium of marshals and deputy- marsh- 
als, who exercise their own judgment as to 
whether or not they shall do him justice, the 
nearest towns lying nestled among the hills, 
or in the tall timber on the banks of creeks. 
The railway runs through a seemingly de- 
serted land. Rarely does one see along the 
route the face of an Indian, unless at some of 
the little wooden stations, or at a lone water- 
tank near a stream. The inhabitants have 
acquiesced sullenly in the opening of their 
country to railway travel, but they do not 

K..;U «^„- 4-1,^ i:„^ „J _ 1 i. „• 'j. Monument erected to the memory of Brevet-Major 

build near the hne, and rarely patronize it. e. a. Ogden, near Fort Riiey, Kansas. 




l^ Ma..s.on. 

THE Indian Territory is, to its inhabitants and to the Government of the 
United States, at this present writing, a problem. The area of 52,780,000 
acres has as yet scarcely population enough to make a city of tenth rank. The 
estimated numbers of the tribes scattered over the vast plains and among the 
mountains are as follows: Cherokees, 17,500; Choctaws, 17,000; Creeks, 13,500; 

Chickasaws, 5,500; Semi- 
noles, 2,500; Osages, 
3,500; Sacs and Foxes, 
468; Shawnees, 670; 
Cheyennes and Arapahoes, 
3,390 ; Confederate Peo- 
-^^ ries, 170; Eastern Shaw- 
nees, 80; Wyandottes, 150; 
Quawpaws, 236 ; Senecas, 
188. And this little band 
" of 65,000 people is so 
separated by great distan- 
ces, unabridged by rail- 
ways, and by barriers of language and custom, that there is hardly any 
intercourse between tribes. The land lies waste because there are not hands 
enough to hold the plough, and the country remains a wilderness because the 
Indian jealously refuses to allow the white man to make it blossom as the rose. 

There is something pathetic in the resolution with which the Indian clings to 
this Territory, the very last of his strongholds. His race and his history are soon 
to be inextricably mingled with that of the white men, whom he still considers as 
intruders; and while he recognizes the inevitable fate attending him and his 
possessions, he fiercely repulses any attempt at a compromise. 

He now stands firm by the treaty stipulations; for the treaties made in 1837 
by the Government of the United States with the various tribes east of the 
Mississippi, giving them the " Indian Territory," on condition that they should 
move into and occupy it, were comprehensive and binding. The Osages had 
been the virtual owners of these immense tracts of land until the advent of the 
white man, but to-day have almost entirely disappeared. 

To the Cherokees, in 1837, a patent in fee simple was given, while the other 
tribes held their lands under treaty stipulations. From 1837 to 1845 the task of 
removing the various tribes from their homes east of the Mississippi went on, and 


with the unwilHngncss of the Seminoles to migrate came the Florida war. In 
the treaties it was provided that the five distinctive tribes, the Cherokees, Choc- 
taws, Chickasaws, Creeks, and Seminoles, should hold the lands of the Territory 
as homes forever. They, in their turn, have allowed smaller tribes to make 
homes among them. In 1866, the Delawarcs and Shawnees of Kansas agreed to 
live thereafter in the Cherokee Nation, and to give up their own nationality, 
adding the funds resulting from the sale of their Kansas lands to the annuities of 
the Cherokees. 

The annuities of the various nations in the Territory arise from their sales of 
lands in the past; those of the Cherokees amount to about $350,000 yearly; of 
the Choctaws, $250,000; the Creeks, $175,000; the Chickasaws, $100,000; and 
the Seminoles, $10,000. The various treaties were all revised and renewed in 
1866 — following on the "Treaty of Amity " made at Fort Smith, at the close of 
the late war. 

The Indians of the Territory of to-day are, therefore, just as securely vested 
with the control of the Territory as against its settlement by white men as they 
were in 1837, and they manifest no more disposition to yield their claims than 
they did a quarter of a century ago. 

The Cherokees have naturally made the greatest advances in civilization, and 
are at present the most powerful of all the tribes in the Territory. They have a 
ruling voice in matters that concern the general polity of the nations, or tribes 
of the Territory, and their manners and customs are better known to the outside 
world than are those of any other tribe. 

Their general status is not below that of the white frontiersmen. They 
are industrious and capable agriculturists, and understand the care of stock 
better than any other people in the South-west. They live remote from each 
other — on farms which, it is true, they hold in common, yet to which there is 
an individual and perpetual right of occupancy. All the land is vested in the 
Nation ; a man may sell his improvements and buildings — but not the land. 

The Indians throughout the Territory are not, as a rule, farmers in any proper 
sense, as they raise simply what they need ; this, however, is because there is no 
market for surplus produce. The Government originally supplied them with 
capital ; they do not realize the advantages of gain, they simply desire to " make 
a living." Throughout the various nations there is an utter neglect of internal 
improvements. An Indian highway is as difficult as the Vesuvian ascent, and 
none of the magnificent rivers were bridged before the advent of the Missouri, 
Kansas and Texas railway. 

The " Indian Agents " — who are appointed directly by the President, and 
who, residing among the different tribes, are properly the interpreters of all the 
treaties, have charge of the annuities, and make the annual reports — usually 
have much influence with the Indian chiefs, and, of late years, some few improve- 
ments have been introduced at their suggestion. The person of an agent is 
always respected, and as a rule his word is law. 

The government of the Cherokees, as well as that of the other principal 
nations in the Territory, corresponds in large degree to those of our States. The 



A Creek Indian. 

Chcrokees elect a "principal" and second chief for four years. They also have 
an upper and lower house of the Legislature, the former continuing in power four, 
the latter two years. Bills, or acts, are regularly introduced, and passed through 
the various readings to be engrossed, as in other Legislative assemblies. There 
is a supreme court, with three judges, and there are also 
district judges and sheriffs. 

At Tahlequah, the capital, the annual sessions of the 
legislature are held in the council-house, beginning in 
November, and lasting thirty days. The legislators are 
paid out of the annuities of the nation. Tahlequah is an 
average town of the South-west, with nothing especially 
denoting its Indian origin. The Choctaws and Creeks 
have the same general form of government. The Creeks 
are a fine people ; their women are handsome, and their 
men generally brave and honest. The Seminoles have 
vested their executive authority in twenty-four band-chiefs, 
all of whom are controlled and directed by a "principal," 
who is an absolute autocrat, having an irrefragable veto- 
power. All the tribes or nations join in a general council, 
provided for by the treaty of 1 866, and it is presided over 
by the Superintendent of Indian Affairs for the Southern Superintendency. 
At this council only such matters are legislated upon as are of comity between 
the nations — the rendition of criminals, the joint action in regard to land, etc. 

This superb country, unquestionably one of the most fertile on the globe, is a 
constant source of torment to the white men of the border, in whom the spirit of 
speculation is very strong. The hardy _^^ 

citizen of the South-west bears no ill- :*' jf^aaafi... 

will toward the various Indian tribes, 
but it irritates him to see such vast 
tracts of land lying idle. He aches to 
be admitted to the Territory with the 
same privileges granted Indian citizens, 
viz.: the right to occupy and possess 
all the land they may fence in, and to 
claim all that remains unfenced within 
a quarter of a mile on either side of 
their fenced lots. He is crazed with 
visions of the far- spreading, flower- 
bespangled prairies, the fertile foot- 
hills, the rich quarries, mines, and 
valley-lands. He burns to course at 
free will over the grazing regions 
where even the Indians raise such fine 
stock. And now that the railroad has 

, ... Bridge across the North Fork of the Canadian River, 

entered a protest agamst COntmued Indian Territory (M., K. & T. Railway). 



An Adopted Citizen. 

exclusiveness on the part of the Indians, he thunders at the northern and 
southern entrances of the Territory, and will not be quiet. 

At the time of the emigration of the Cherokees to the Indian Territory, a 
powerful feud existed between two influential families in the nation — the Rosses 

and the Ridges. It grew out of dissatisfaction at a 
treaty made by the Ridge party. Those hostile to 
the treaty claimed that the Ridges and others had 
agreed to sell a portion of the Territory to the Uni- 
ted States, contrary to the instructions of the nation. 
A vendetta followed, in which Boudinot, Ridge, 
and all the parties to the treaty were killed, save 
Stand Weatie, who succeeded in defending himself, 
single-handed, against a dozen murderous assail- 
ants. On the wave of indignation against the 
Ridges and the other parties to this odious treaty, 
the Ross party came into power, and has since 
achieved considerable distinction both by its lead in 
the affairs of the whole Territory and by its loyalty 
to the Government during the late war. 

At the beginning of the war, the Indians of the 
various tribes in the Territory were naturally in closer relations with the South 
than with the North. Their agents had mainly been Southern men, and the 
annuities, by which they had become rich and independent, had been derived 
from the South, and paid promptly. 

Most of the Indians knew nothing whatever concerning Northern people or 
politics. They had been residents of a slave-holding section all their lives. 
Many of the Cherokees had 200 or 300 slaves each, and negroes who had 
settled among the Indians also held slaves. In May of 1862, when the great 
struggle was gravely accentuated, the Indians took sides with the South, a regi- 
ment being formed among the Cherokees, and placed under the command of 
General Stand Weatie, a full-blooded Indian. 

The principal chief, John Ross, used his utmost endeavors to prevent any of 
the tribes from further engaging in the struggle. There was presently an engage- 
ment between the United States troops and the Cherokee regiment, at Pea 
Ridge, in Arkansas. A portion of the Cherokees at that time threw down their 
arms, and returned to their allegiance to the General Government. William P. 
Ross, the present chief, was among them, and his father, continuing his loyal 
efforts, went to Washington, and gave a true statement of the situation. He 
remained loyal until his death, which occurred in Philadelphia, in 1864. 

To General Albert Pike was principally due the conversion of most of the 
Indians in the Territory to Southern sentiment. The Confederates made better 
treaties with the Indians than ever the United States had made, and even paid 
them one annuity in Confederate money. 

Meantime the fair lands underwent all the ghastly and appalling disasters 
which follow in the train of war. They were occupied alternately by Northern 



and Southern armies, and were plundered by both. The Indian adherents of 
the Southern cause moved their famihes into Texas, and those who had cast 
their fortunes with the Government stampeded into Kansas. 

The departure of the loyal Indians for the loyal States was the signal for a 
determined attack upon them, and was the cause of almost unparalleled suffering 
among the women and children. At one time there were fifteen thousand 
refugees in Kansas, all supported by the General Government, while hundreds 
were daily arriving in a starving condition. 

The story of Opothlehola, chief of the Creeks, furnishes one of the most 
striking instances of determined loyalty. The Creeks had long been beset by 
General Pike, who had finally succeeded in inducing a certain number of them 

to go South. But the 
chief Opothlehola, then 
nearly one hundred years 
old, and reverenced with 
almost superstitious awe 
by the masses of his 
people, rejected all Pike's 
advances, and, after a 
long and stormy council, 
called on all who wished 
to seek the Great Father's 
hand to go northward 
with him. 

He hastily gathered 
such of his young men 
and warriors as would join 
him, with their wives and 
children, and in mid- 
winter, with but few pro- 
visions, and dragging all 
their household goods, 
the loyal refugees set 
forth for Kansas. They 
were followed by Pike 

An Indian Stock-Drover. 

and regiments from Texas, 
and a bloody battle en- 
sued at Honey Springs, 
in which, as in a suc- 
ceeding fight, Opothleho- 
la's little band was routed 
with much slaughter. 

But they continued on 
until January, 1863, w^hen 
those who remained alive 
reached Kansas in an 
almost famished condi- 
tion. On the dread march 
more than a thousand 
men, women and children 
sickened, died, and were 
left by the wayside. 
When the old chieftain 
reached Kansas, his first 
act was to enroll his war- 
riors as soldiers of the 
United States, and every 
able-bodied man enlisted 
in the service ! Opothle- 

hola died shortly afterward, at Fort Leavenworth, where he was buried with 
military honors. The various regiments from the territorial tribes on both sides 
in the war were good soldiers. When they were led well, they fought well. 
They waged relentless war on one another. The feud is still nourished to some 
extent, and will be until this generation has gone its way. 

Before the war the Indians were rich in stock, and it was not uncommon for a 
well-to-do stock- raiser to possess 15,000 head of cattle; while it was a very poor 
and woe-begone Indian, indeed, who had not at least twenty. Then, as now, all 
the labor necessary was the branding of the beasts, as they grazed at will over 
the unbounded lands. 




But when the war came, the total destruction of this stock ensued ! Hund- 
reds of thousands of the beasts were stolen, and taken into the neighboring 
States : both armies fed from the herds ; and so great was the consequent decline 
of prosperity, and the distress, that the General Government appropriated money 

for the purchase of new stock, and now the tribes 
have nearly as much as before the war. The only 
present subject of disagreement among any of the 
tribes is the land question ; the various propositions 
tending to an opening up of the land to white 
settlement, which have been made by one party, 
having all been received with disdainful threats by 
the other. Death is the speedy fate of any Indian 
of any tribe who dares to accede to approaches 
on the part of the white man tending to the sale 
of lands ; and the white man who attempts to 
ingratiate himself too freely among the Indians 
runs risk of a sudden and mysterious disappearance. 
Religion is creeping into the simple yet logical 
minds of the various tribes. There are no previous 
impressions to correct, for these tribes have no 
mythology, save the gracious and beautiful embody- 
ing of some of nature's loveliest forms. After the 
war, the Cherokees invited the missions and their 
schools to return to the Territory, and the other 
tribes followed their example. 

There are few, if any, church edifices among the 
tribes, and the meetings are now held in school- 
houses. Church expenses are borne by voluntary gifts. Many of the tribes seem 
to have a dim idea that they are fragments of one of the " lost tribes of Israel," 
and the Choctaws have a fund of curious legends concerning the wanderings of 
their forefathers which tend to that belief. 

Manners and superstitions are, of course, in many respects still thoroughly 
Indian. Games in which physical strength and skill are required are popular 
among all the tribes, and the ball-players are fine specimens of men. Hospi- 
tality is unbounded, and as soon as an Indian of wealth and station takes a 
wife, all her relatives, even the most distant, come to live on his estate, and 
remain forever, or until they have impoverished him. The tyranny of mothers- 
in-law in the Territory is something frightful to contemplate. One Indian gave 
as his reason for not wishing to get rich the torments which his relatives, in 
case he married, would cause him. 

Food is simple among all the "nations." Corn, ground with mortar and 
pestle, furnishes the material for bread ; a few vegetables are grown; and game, 
pork and beef are abundant. 

The hog of the Indian Territory is a singular animal. Having always run 
wild, he is as distinguished for thinness as are his brethren of civilization for 

" The ball-players are fine specimens 
of men." 



corpulence, and his back well merits the epithet of razor-edge applied to it. 
Stock feeds itself, winter and summer, and there is rarely a season when it is 
necessary to put up any hay. In the winter of 1871 grass along the Arkansas 
bottom was green until the middle of December. 

Marriage is gradually becoming a recognized institution among all the tribes, 
the efforts of the missionaries tending to encourage it ; but heretofore men and 
women have simply cohabited without formal tie and reared families. The usual 
practice has been for a young man who has become enamored of a maiden to 
ingratiate himself with her brother, or with a near male relative, and for the 
latter to intercede with the father. Should the father regard the suitor favorably, 
he puts him on probation, and at the end of a certain term receives him, and 
presents him to the daughter as her future husband. The family relation seems 
much respected, and is guarded against disorganization by many excellent laws. 

A Gentleman from the Arkansas Border. 



AFTER leaving Chctopa, a pretty town, with nearly 2,000 inhabitants, and a 
point of supply for territorial traders, our special train steamed merrily 
along the broad expanse of prairie until Vinita, the junction of the Atlantic and 
Pacific Hne with the Missouri, Kansas and Texas railway, was reached. At 
Vinita, the junction has made no growth, because white men are not allowed to 
live there, and the Indians content themselves with agriculture and hunting. 
We had prepared ourselves for a sojourn of a fortnight between this point and 

'^ the Red river, and a brief inspection of the 
culinary department, over which the ebony Charles 
presided, was eminently satisfactory. Telegrams 
were received from various gentlemen at each end 



of the main line, stating that they would join us at Fort Gibson, and we set 
out on our journey with delightful anticipations. 

The long grasses rustled ; the timber by the creeks stood out in bold relief 
against the Naples-blue of the sky ; the distant line of mounds assumed the 
appearance now of a giant fortification, now of a city, and now of a terraced 
garden ; here and there a gap in the woods lining the horizon, showed a glimpse 
of some far-reaching valley, on whose bosom still lay a thin snow- veil ; and 
sometimes we saw a symmetrical tree standing midprairie, with a huge white- 
hooded hawk perched lazily upon a bending bough, and a gaunt wolf crawling 
away from the base. But nowhere was there any sign of man. 

The train halted for water and coal, the engineer and firemen helping them- 
selves at the coal-cars and water-tank, and we moved on. At last, at a little 
wooden station, we saw half-a-dozen tawny youths, tall and awkward, with high 
cheek-bones, intensely black hair, and little sparkling eyes, which seemed the 
very concentration of jealousy. This was a party of young beaux from the 

"Coming in the twilight to a region where great mounds reared their whale-backed heights " 

nearest Cherokee village. They wore the typical American slouch hats, but 
had wound ribbons around and fastened feathers in them; their gayly-colored 
jackets were cut in fantastic fashion, and at their sides they carried formidable 
revolvers, which they are, however, slower to use than is the native American. 

They stared curiously at our party, seated in luxurious chairs on the -ample 
platform of the rear car, and, after having satisfied their curiosity, they mounted 
their horses and galloped away. So we rattled on, coming in the twilight to a 
region where great mounds reared their whale-backed heights on either hand. 
Upon the summit of one of them stands a monument of hewn stone, doubtless 
to some deity who went his ways long before Columbus uncovered America to 
European eyes. These mounds seem constructed according to some general 
plan, and are of immense extent. 

We went on in the deepening twilight until we came to Gibson station, the 
limit of our journey for the day. Only one or two houses were to be seen ; a 



A "Terminus" Rough. 

cold wind blew over the prairie, and we betook ourselves to the supper-table, 

where prairie-chickens, mysteriously purveyed for our surprise by the beneficent 

Charles, sent up a savory steam. The stillness of death reigned outside, and we 

hstened languidly to the conductor's 

stories of "terminus troubles" a brace of 

years agone, until we were aroused to 

welcome delegations brought by the night 

express trains from each way to join our 

party, and to prepare for the morrow. 
When we were all snugly tucked up 

in our berths in the gayly - decorated 

sleeping- saloon, one of the new-comers 

began dreamily to tell stories of more 

terminus troubles. " Not much as it was 

when we were here and at Muskogee in 

1870," he said. "Three men were shot 

about twenty feet from this same car in 

one night at Muskogee. Oh ! this was a little hell, this was. The roughs took 

possession here in earnest. The keno and monte players had any quantity of tents 

all about this section, and life was the most uncertain thing to keep you ever saw. 
" One night a man lost all he had at keno ; so he went around behind the 

tent and tried to shoot the keno-dealer in the back ; he missed him, but killed 

another man. The keno man just got a board and put it up behind himself, and 

the game went on. One day one of the roughs took offence at something the 

railroad folks said, so he ran our train off the track next morning. There was no 

law here, and no means of getting any. As fast as the railroad moved on, the 

roughs pulled up stakes and moved with it. 

" We tried to scare them away, but they did n't 
scare worth a cent. It was next to impossible for a 
stranger to walk through one of these canvas towns 
without getting shot at. The graveyards were sometimes 
better populated than the towns next them. The fellows 
who ruled these little terminus hells, — where they came 
from nobody knows — never had any homes — grew up 

' We came to the bank of the Grand river, on a hill beyond which was the post of Fort Gibson." [Page 208.] 


like prairie grass, only coarser and meaner. They had all been ' terminuses ' 
ever since they could remember. Most of them had two, three, and four murders 
on their hands, and confessed them. They openly defied the Indian authorities, 
and scorned Uncle Sam and his marshals. They knew there was money 
wherever the end of the road was, and they meant to have it." 

" But how long did this condition of affairs continue ?" 

" It went on steadily until the Secretary of the Interior came down here to see 
the Territory and to examine the railroads. He came down in this same car, and 
was carefully informed of all the lawlessness and flagrant outrages which decent 
people had been obhged to submit to. One night the superintendent-in-chief 
pushed on a little ahead of the train to get a physician, as a gentleman in the 
special car was taken suddenly ill. The roughs captured the superintendent 
and proposed to shoot him, as they fancied that he was a United States 
marshal. He explained who he was, however, and begged off. As they 
hardly dared to shoot him then, he succeeded in reaching a physician, got back 
to the train, and next took the Secretary to inspect this specimen of railroad 

" And what did the Secretary see ?" 

" Oh, all the ruffians flocked to hear what he had to say. They had killed 
a man that morning from mere caprice, and he was laid out in a little tent which 
the party passed while looking around. One after another of the rough fellows 
was presented to the party, each one speaking very plainly, and declaring that he 
had a good right to stay in the 'Nation,' and (with an oath) meant to; and he'd 
like to hear any one hint that he had better go away. Then they told stories 
of their murderous exploits, practiced at marks with their revolvers, and seemed 
to have no fear of the Secretary." 

" What was the result ?" 

"Well, the Secretary of the Interior took a bee-line for the nearest telegraph 
station, and sent a dispatch to General Grant, announcing that neither life nor 
property was safe in the Territory, and that the Indians should be aided in 
expelling the roughs from their midst. So, in a short time, the Tenth Cavalry 
went into active service in the Territory." 

'* Did the ruffians make any resistance ?" 

" They got together, at the terminus, armed to the teeth, and blustered a 
good deal ; but the cavalrymen arrested one after another, and examined each 
man separately. When one of the terminuses was asked his name, he usually 
answered that it was Slim Jim, or Wild Bill, or Lone Jack (with an oath), and 
that he was a gambler, or a 'pounder,' as the case might be, and, furthermore, 
that he did n't intend to leave the Territory. Whereupon the officer commanding 
would say : ' Well, Slim Jim, or Wild Bill, or Lone Jack, I '11 give you twelve 
hours to leave this town in, and if you are found in the Territory a week from 
this date, I'll have you shot !' And they took the hint." 

A moment afterward, the same voice added : 

" By the way, at the next station, Muskogee, a man was shot before the town 
got there, and the graveyard was started before a single street was laid out. You 



can see the graveyard now-a-days — eleven men are buried there with their boots 
on. Good night." 

The landscape was snow-besprinkled next day, but our merry party of six 
climbed into a rickety ambulance, and set out on the seven miles' ride to Fort 
Gibson. As we rattled along past the dense bosquets, great flocks of prairie- 
chickens rose in leisurely flight ; wild turkeys waddled away ; deer fled across 
the roads after bestowing a scornful gaze upon us; and rabbits jumped painfully 
in the snow. 

The farm-houses which we passed were all built of logs, but were large and 
solidly constructed ; and the Indian farmers were making preparations for the 
Spring ploughing. When we came to the bank of the Grand river, on a hill 
beyond which was the post of Fort Gibson, we found the ferries obstructed by 
masses of floating ice. Negro cavalrymen from the fort were in midstream, 
desperately clinging to the guide-rope, and in imminent danger of being carried 
down river and out into the mighty Arkansas. At last, the dangers over, two 

lazy half- breeds ferried 
us across, after infinite 
shouting and disputing; 
and we met, on the other 
bank, "Uncle John" Cun- 
ningham, postmaster at 
Fort Gibson. *T saw you 
across the stream, and 
was watching out for you 
a little carefully," said 
Uncle John, " for there's 
a fellow come into town 
this morning with six 
gallons of whiskey, and 
we expect some of the 

Indians to go circusing 
around as soon as they 
get it down." 

We climbed the hill 
to the fort, a well-built 
post usually garrisoned 
by three companies either 
of infantry or cavalry. 
Fort Gibson is the resi- 
dence of the present chief 
of the Cherokee nation, 
William P. Ross, a culti- 
vated and accomplished 
gentleman, whom I had 
previously met in Wash- 

A Negro Boy at the Ferry 

ington. The fort stands on the Grand river, about two and a-half miles from its 
confluence with the Arkansas, and is only twenty-one miles from Tahlequah, the 
capital of the Cherokees. The whole of the adjacent country, except upon the 
high range of the hills along the Grand, Verdigris and Illinois rivers, is arable 
and easy to cultivate. 

From the verandah of the commanding officer's quarters at the fort, one 
can overlook a range of hills known as the "Boston mountains," the town, 
set down in an amphitheatre formed by the slopes, the broad, swift river running 
between its picturesque banks, — a charming scene. 

At Fort Gibson we were in a real Cherokee town, and at every turn saw one 
of the tall, black-haired, tawny citizens of the Territory. It was evidently a 
market-day with the farmers for many a mile around. Horses were tied before 
the porches of the Indian traders and along the bank of the river, and every few 
moments some stout Indian came rattling into town, his wife mounted behind 
him on the demure - looking pony, equal to anything, from the fording of a river 



to the threading of a canon. Many 
of the men carried side-arms, but 
none of them showed any disposi- 
tion to quarrel, and we saw no one 
who seemed to have been drinking 
Hquor. Indeed, so severe are the 
penalties attaching to the sale of 
ardent spirits in the Indian Terri- 
tory, that men do not care to 
take the risk. The United States 
marshals and the Indian authorities 
pursue the offenders with great per- 
sistence, and a law-breaker rarely 

The Indians — Cherokees, Choc- 
taws, Chickasaws and Seminoles — 
all have a strange thirst for intoxi- 
cating liquor, and often make the 
most astonishing efforts to secure it 
All kinds of patent medicines in 
which alcohol forms an ingredient 
find ready sale among the various 
tribes; and camphor, pain-killer, 
and similar articles, were for a long 
time so much in use among the 
Cherokees as to provoke an exam- 
ination by the agents, who discov- 
ered the braves to be drinking 
whole bottles at a gulp, in order to 
feel some effect therefrom. A bottle 
of whiskey is still one of the most 
powerful bribes that can be placed 
before an Indian. 

The women were all robust, and 
not devoid of a certain wild beauty ; 
but they wore a prim, Shakerish 
costume which defied criticism. A 
poke -bonnet nearly concealed their 
features, and a stiff, heavy robe fell 
down to the ankles, while a shawl 
was decorously draped about the 
shoulders. Many of the Indians 
seemed to have negro wives, and 
we saw more than one stalwart 
negress receiving courteous atten- 



tion from tall, copper- colored beaux, w liose manners would have done no dis- 
credit to a salon in society. 

The men, as a rule, would not respond when addressed in English, and often 
turned sullenly away ; while younger members of the tribes, both boys and 
girls, would chat cheerily, and question us with childish curiosity as to our 
reasons for visiting the nation. There were some superb heads among these 
Cherokees, with masses of tangled hair peeping in most charming confusion from 
under torn hats, slightly shaded faces, with matchless eyes, and features in which 
the Indian type of a century agone was yet preserv^ed — all the reserve, all the 
immobility, all the silent scorn being still distinctly marked. Yet civilization 
was beginning to do its work. The greater number of countenances were losing 
their savage traits, and becoming more like those of their fellows in the neighbor- 
ing States ; still there was a certain atmosphere of strangeness about them, born, 

doubtless, of their methods 

of thought, their traditions, 

their almost complete lack of 

sympathy with the whites. 

Never until the war had they 

been called upon to feel that 

their territory constituted a ^HlSn^/i' \ V 

part of a common country; '■'^^m^mM^:^Wmm,.mf 

now they realize it. 

From Fort Gibson, where -'js^BWrnxVI o miim^MMh 

Lieutenant- Colonel Lawson, 

the amiable commanding 

officer, and his associates had 

made our stay a very pleasant 

one, we rode back along the 

very rough roadways until we 

The station-agent came to see us, and announced that 
some of the "Indians had been having a circus " during our absence. "Came in 
here, an old woman did," he said, " with a butcher-knife, and took a piece out 
of my chair, and a man with her fired half-a-dozen shots from his revolver 
through the roof But I finally quieted 'em." Liquor, or possibly pain-killer, 
was the cause of this sudden outburst. 

So we journeyed slowly on through the great Territory, now coming into the 
shadows of the prehistoric mounds, and now into delightful valleys, which needed 
only human and tasteful occupancy to be transformed into veritable Elysian 
Fields. At night the train was switched off at some lonely siding, and the 
baggage- car transformed into a kitchen. Then arose the complicated aroma of 
broiled venison, savory coffee, and fried potatoes and muffins, or delicate toast, — 
the work of the dusky Charles, who could growl fiercely whenever profane eyes 
attempted to peer into the arcana of the kitchen. One of the leading citizens of 
Parsons, Kansas, presided over the venison ; half-a-dozen eager hands conducted 
the coffee from the mill in which it was ground into the cup in which it was 

"They wore a prim, Shakerish 
costume." [Page 209.] 

came to Gibson station. 

A Trader among the Indians. 


21 I 

poured ; and the " pet conductor " watched over the comfort of all, generously- 
forgetting his own. Late o' nights a thunderous roll and a flash of light would 
salute our ears and eyes, and sometimes a bundle of letters and home papers, 
fresh from St. Louis and the East would be handed us out of the darkness by 
the conductor of the "down express." 

Our train was always in motion when we awoke in the morning, reminding 
us more of life on an ocean steamer than on the " rattling rail-car." We spent 
some time at Muskogee, the railway station communicating most directly with 
Fort Gibson, and a town which owes all its present prosperity to the Missouri, 
Kansas and Texas railway. Immense stock-yards have been built there, and the 
arrival and departure of goods and mails for Ocmulgee, the capital of the Creek 
nation, forty-five miles to the westward, and We-wo-ka, the capital of the Semi- 
noles, one hundred miles west, gives employment to large numbers of men. 
Here, too, is a point of debarkation for travel to Armstrong's Academy, the 
Choctaw seat of government ; and to Tishomingo, the principal town in the 
Chickasaw nation. Stage routes branch out in all directions from Muskogee, 
and weekly mails are forwarded thence to the interior. 

Between Gibson and Muskogee we had crossed the Arkansas river on one 
of the immense bridges of the Missouri, Kansas and Texas railway, a grand 
triumph of engineering skill ; and some miles below Muskogee we also crossed 
the "North Fork" and the "Canadian," both of which run through a singularly 
wild and beautiful, country. Near the Canadian we crossed the fields to visit 
one of the mission schools, of which there are numbers in the Territory. It is in 
the Creek domain, and is known as the " Asbury Manual Labor School," being 

supported by the Methodist Church South. 
About eighty Indian children of both sexes 
are boarded, lodged, and taught at this 
institution, and the school-rooms which we 
entered were models of order and comfort 
The native Creek schools, of which there 

The Asbury Manual Labor School, in the Creek domain. 

are twenty or twenty-five, are not very useful ; even the examining boards are 
deficient, and the native teachers are only able to give ordinary elementary 


instruction. The mission schools throughout the Territory have been of great 
service. The Presbyterians also support a mission among the Creeks, called the 
"Tallahassee Manual Labor School," where, as in the Asbury, work afield and 
in the house is expected from the scholars. The pupils of the Asbury School 
in one season produced 2,ooo bushels of corn from about fifty acres. 

In the Cherokee nation much attention is paid to the thirty " neighbor- 
hood schools," as they are called, and all the Northern missionaries who, of 
course, were compelled to retire during the war, were invited to return to their 
posts, and received cordial welcome, when peace was re-established. The 
common schools among the Cherokees were established by the Legislature in 
1867. There are schools set apart for colored children, but no spirit of exclu- 
sion is now manifested ; for the Indians, when the war closed and they emanci- 
pated all their slaves, frankly placed them on the same basis with themselves. 
Five orphans are boarded, clothed and instructed in each of the public schools. 

Once in two years a superintendent of schools is chosen, and he appoints a 
board of directors for each school. The district schools are mainly taught by 
women, and those pupils who desire more than an elementary education are sent 
to colleges in the South and West. The Choctaws support forty youths and 
twenty maidens in institutions at Louisville, Kentucky, and other Southern cities. 
Various influences are gradually doing away with the desire to retain the 
Indian language in the schools. The Seminoles have thus far established five 
common schools, and a missionary boarding-school, under the charge of the 
Presbyterian Church. This little tribe is improving as rapidly in material 
wealth and in education as any other in the Territory. 

On the Canadian river is a town which has at various times possessed the 
euphonious appellations of " Sandtown" and "Buzzard's Roost." It is now 
merely a collection of roofless cabins, but was long the rendezvous of all the 
ruflians infesting the Territory. Perched on a waste near the river's side, it was 
a convenient location for murder and plunder, and travelers learned to give it a 
wide berth. 

Passing Perryville, an old trading-post of the Choctaws, and now a station of 
some promise ; then along the picturesque and fertile line of Ream's Valley, a 
magnificent region ; dashing through the wonderful coal region near McAllister, 
we came at last to Limestone Gap. 

From Limestone Gap to the Red river the country is wonderfully fertile, and 
in summer beautiful beyond description. Towns of more or -less promise are 
interspersed with solitudes which are very impressive. Stringtown is to be one 
of the lumber markets of the future ; and at Caddo, one of the curious new 
towns which are plenty in the vicinity of the Texan frontier, the Fort Sill trade 
debouches, and with the building of a branch railway to Paris, the cotton from 
that town and other points in Northern Texas will come in. 

The railroad runs over trestle-work of the most diflftcult character between 
A-to-ka and South Boggy, which latter town was once the capital of the 
Choctaw nation. Not far from the banks of the Red river, on the Indian side, 
a small town has grown up, and the Texas Central railroad will soon cause the 


growth of a hamlet on the opposite side. The river, at the point where it is 
crossed by the railroad, on a superb bridge, is not grand, although the banks are 
high and stony. There is usually but a small volume of water in the stream, 
and the sands show on either side. 

Not far from the railway bridge we saw a long line of cattle fordmg the 
channel; and the answer to our inquiry as to the reason why no bridge had been 
constructed by the Texas and Indian Governments at those points was that a 
Chickasaw Indian had long ago secured legislative privilege to charge one dollar 
for each person crossing the river from either direction, at the very point most 
available for bridge-building. The income of this Indian has, for some years, 

been $ioo per day, while the working expenses 
of the ford are not more than $20 weekly. 

As our train lay in the shadow of the hills at Lime- 
stone Gap that night, the express from St. Louis went 
thundering by, and we were awakened to catch a 
glimpse of cars filled with weary emigrants, their faces 
eagerly turned toward the South. Ere I slept again, 
I followed them in fancy on their journey to the Gulf 
Now they were hurried through sharply -defined 

hill ranges, and deep, 
sequestered, fertile 
valleys, until, the last 
creek crossed, the last 
forest of the Territory 
dominated, the fickle 
stream that marks 
the Texan boundary 
was reached; then, on 
through new forests, 
where a gnarled, 
unprofitable growth 
rankly asserted itself ; 
and now over up- 

The Toll -Bridge at Limestone Gap, Indian Territory. 

lands, whose black earth needs but a caress to bring forth abundant harvest. 
Now through thickets where Spanish moss hung in hundred fantastic forms 
from the trees it feeds upon ; past immense fields, where thousands of cattle were 
grazing ; by banks and braes, in summer-time dotted and spangled with myriads 
of flowers; along highways where horsemen rode merrily. Nov,a the train 
rushed through a still, old town, where negro children were playing about the 
doors of the dirty, white houses, or a stalwart negress, with a huge bundle on her 
head, was tramping in the shade of friendly trees ; and now along the borders of 
a marsh in which a million frogs were croaking a dreary burden, their monoton- 
ous chorus rising out of little pools from which the flag-lily raised its defiant head. 
Or now the train stopped where one could see, in the tremulous air of 
evening, the reflection of the dying sun in a little lake nestling among the trees, 


with Spanish ^raybcards dipping into its clear depths; now where a path wound 
up a hill-side, and a magnolia tree stood lonely, its green leaves giving promise 
of future bloom and perfume, and its coarse bark sending forth a subtle odor; 
now where sombre creeks stole in and out among the crooked trees, as if eager 
to furnish seductive nooks for the brown, gray and red birds which fluttered and 
hovered and hopped from a thousand twigs. 

Or now where the mesquite quivered in the glare of the generous Texan 
sun ; where the voices of negroes were heard in loud refrain, singing some bois- 
terous melody as they loitered home from their half-completed tasks, the urchins 
somersaulting on the elastic earth ; and now where the shadows in the distance 
were strangely lighted up by the erratic glow of the moon, which threw a fan- 
tastic glamour on moss and thicket, on lily, magnolia, and live oak. 



MISSOURI is the child of a compromise whose epitaph was written in letters 
of blood. Her chief city was founded more than a century ago, by a 
colony of adventurous Frenchmen ; and for many years, during whose lapse the 
title to its soil was savagely disputed by Gaul and Indian, was a fur-trading post. 

"Looking down on the St. Louis ol to-day, irom llie lugh rool .,1 tlie Insurance temple." [Page 217.] 

When Laclede Liguest and the brave band of men who followed him set out 
from New Orleans, in 1763, to explore the country whose exclusive trade had 


MISSOURI — i.Aci.F.nic i.ioukst's explorations. 

been accorded them by cliartcr from the liands of the governor of the province 
of Louisiana, the lands west of the Mississippi were unexplored and unknown. 
Beyond the mouth of the Missouri river the bateau of no prying New Orleans 
trader had ever penetrated. The song of the voyageiir was as yet unheard 

by the savage; and the inhabitants of the 
little post of Sainte Genevieve looked 
with amazement and reverence upon the 
trappers, hunters and merchants who 
started from their fort, one autumn 
morning, to explore the turbid current 
of the Missouri. 

Laclede Liguest and his men did 
not long remain in the mysteriouc 
region adjacent to the junction of the 
two great rivers, but speedily returned 
to the site of the present city, and 
there, early in 1764, a few humble 
cabins were erected, and the new set- 
tlement was christened St. Louis, in 
honor of the dissolute and feeble Louis 
XV., of France. A hardy and fearless 
youth named Auguste Chouteau was 
left in command of the few men pro- 

" Where now .stands the p-eat stone Cathedral." [Page 217.] ^ ,• ^u • r i. i j ^ 

tecting the infant town, and at once 
began negotiating with the Missouri Indians, who came in large bodies to visit 
the strangers, and to learn their intentions. 

The treaty by which all the French territory on the Mississippi's eastern bank, 
save New Orleans, was ceded to the English, had just been made ; scarlet- coated 
soldiers were daily expected at the forts near St. Louis. Laclede Liguest did 
not dream that another cession, embracing all lands west of the Mississippi, had 
been made to the king of Spain, and that his pet town was actually upon Spanish 
soil ; he was happy in the belief that the banner of France would flaunt in the 
very eyes of the hated English, and was delighted to find that the Indians who 
surrounded him were resolved to fight the soldiers of Great Britain to the death. 

So he merrily extended the limits of his colony ; but had been at work hardly 
a year before he received orders from the governor of Louisiana to surrender to 
Spain. The governor himself was so chagrined at the orders he was compelled 
to communicate, that he died of a broken heart soon after ; and Lacleds 
Liguest, mute with rage at the pusillanimous conduct of the Home Government, 
remained stubbornly at- his post, ignoring Spanish claims. The French from all 
the stations east of the Mississippi took refuge with him, when the English came 
to their homes, and St. Louis grew more and more Gallic until 1768, when the 
Spanish came in, and after several unsuccessful attempts to gain the confidence 
of the early settlers, finally quite disregarded their feelings, and in 1770 pulled 
down the French flag. 



In that year the French had consecrated their Httle log church, built on the 
land where now stands the great stone cathedral, and in that humble edifice they 
assembled to mourn the loss of their nationality, and to listen to the counsels of 
peace given them by their priests. The Spanish commanders finally succeeded 
in fraternizing with the French, and cordially joined them in hating the English. 

Laclede Liguest died during a voyage down the Mississippi, and was buried 
in the wild solitudes at the mouth of the Arkansas river. His immense proper- 
ties in St Louis were sold to strangers. His valiant lieutenant, Auguste 
Chouteau, became his administrator, and a few years afterward the Chouteau 
mansion was built in the field where now there is a continual roar of traffic. 

Thenceforward, through the bloody days of the colonial revolution, St. Louis 
experienced many vicissitudes. It underwent Indian massacres ; suffered from 
the terrorism of die banditti haunting the Mississippi ; began gradually to get 
acquainted with the gaunt American pioneers who had appeared on the eastern 
bank of the Father of Waters ; and in 1788 had more than 1,000 inhabitants. In 
those days it was scoffingly called ''Pain Court'' (short bread), because grain 
was expensive, and the hunters who came to the " metropolis" to replenish their 
stock of provisions got but scant allowance of bread for their money. 

The Osages were forever hanging upon the outskirts of the settlement, and 
many an unfortunate hunter was burned at the stake, impaled, or tortured slowly 
to death by them. Toward the close of the last century, however, the inhabit- 
ants pushed forward into the wilderness, and the fur trade increased rapidly. 
Numerous neat, one-story cottages, surrounded by pretty gardens, sprang up in 
St. Louis. France once more recovered her possessions west of the Mississippi ; 
and in 1804 the settlement which Laclede Liguest had so carefully founded, 
hoping that it might forever remain French, came under the domination of the 
United States. 

A formal surrender of Upper Louisiana was made to the newly enfranchised 
American colonies; the stars and stripes floated from the " Government House" 
of St. Louis ; and the 
Anglo-Saxon came to the 
front, with one hand ex- 
tended for a land grant, 
and the other grasping a 
rifle, with which to exter- 
minate Indian, Spaniard 
or demon, if they dared 
to stand in his way. 

Looking down upon 
the St. Louis of to-day, 
from the high roof of the 
superb temple which the 
Missourians have built to 
the mercurial god of in- 
surance, one can hardly The Old Chouteau Mansion (as it was.) 



The St Louis Life Insurance C'ompany's Building. 

believe that the vast metropolis spread out before iiim represents the growth 
of only three-quarters of a centur)-. The town seems as old as London. 
The smoke from the Illinois coal has tin^^cd the walls a venerable brown, and the 
grouping of buildings is as picturesque and varied as that of a continental city. 

From the water-side, on ridge after 
ridge, rise acres of solidly-built houses, 
vast manufactories, magazines of com- 
merce, long avenues bordered with 
splendid residences. A labyrinth of 
railways bewilders the eye ; and the 
clang of machinery and the whirl of a 
myriad wagon-wheels rise to the ear. 
The levee is thronged with busy and 
uncouth laborers ; dozens of white 
steamers are shrieking their notes of 
arrival and departure ; the ferries are 
choked with traffic; a gigantic and 
grotesque scramble for the almost lim- 
itless West beyond is spread out 
before one's vision. 

The town has leaped into a new 
life since the war ; has doubled its population, its manufactures and its ambition, 
and stands so fully abreast of its wonderful neighbor, Chicago, that the tradi- 
tional acerbity of the reciprocal criticism for which both cities have so long 
been famous is latterly much enhanced. 

The city which now stretches twelve miles along the ridges branching from 
the water-shed between the Missouri, the Meramec and the Mississippi rivers, 
flanked by rolling prairies richly studded with groves and vineyards ; w^hich has 
thirty railroad lines pointed to its central depots, and a mile and a-half of steam- 
boats at its levee, i,ooo miles from the sea; whose population has increased from 
8,000, in 1835, to 450,000, in 1874; which has a banking capital of $ 1 9,000,000 ; 
which receives hundreds of thousands 
of tons of iron ore monthly, has 
bridged the Father of Waters, and 
talks of controlling the cotton trade 
of Arkansas and Texas — is a giant 
in comparison with the infant settle- 
ment wherein, in a rude cottage, 
Colonel Stoddard had his head-quar- 
ters when the United States assumed 
territorial jurisdiction. In those days 
the houses were nearly all built of 
hewn logs, set upon end, and covered 
with coarsely shingled roofs. The 

town then extended along the line of -in those days the houses were nearly all built of hewn logs," 


what are now known as Main and Second streets ; a little south of the square 
called the Place d' Amies, Fort St. Charles was held by a small garrison, and in 
the old stone tower which the Spaniards had built, debtors and criminals were 
confined together. 

French customs and French gayety prevailed ; there were two diminutive 
taverns, whose rafters nightly rang to the tales of hair-breadth escapes told by 
the boatmen of the Mississippi. The Chouteaus, the Lisas, and the Labbadies 
were the principal merchants ; French and English schools flourished ; peltry, 
lead and whiskey were used for currency, and negroes were to be purchased for 
them ; the semi-Indian garb of the trapper was seen at every street corner; and 
thousands of furs, stripped from the buffalo and the beaver, were exported to New 
Orleans. The mineral wealth lying within a hundred miles of St. Louis had 
hardly been dreamed of; the colonists were too busy in killing Indians and 
keeping order in the town, to think of iron, lead, coal and zinc. 

The compromise which gave the domain of Missouri to slavery checked the 
growth of the State until after it had passed through the ordeal of the war- 
How then it sprang up, like a young giant, confident of the plenitude of its 
strength, all the world knows ! St. Louis, under free institutions, has won more 
prosperity in ten years than under the old regime it would have attained in fifty. 

It is now a cosmopolitan capital, rich in social life and energy, active in com- 
merce, and acute in the struggle for the supremacy of trade in the South-west. 
The ante-bellum spirit is rarely manifested now-a-days ; progress is the motto 
even of those men of the old school who prayed that they might die when they 
first saw that " bleeding Kansas" had indeed bled to some purpose, and that a 
new era of trade and labor had arrived. The term " conservative" is one of 
reproach in St. Louis to-day ; and the unjust slur of the Chicagoan, to the effect 
that the Missouri metropolis is " slow," puts new fire into the blood of her every 

After the ravages of the war, both State and city found themselves free from 
the major evils attendant upon reconstruction, and entered unimpeded upon a 
prosperous career. The 100,000 freedmen have never constituted a troublesome 
element in the State ; no political exigencies have impeded immigration or 
checked the investment of capital ; and the commonwealth, with an area of more 
than 67,000 square miles of fertile lands, with 2,000,000 of inhabitants, and 
$1,100,000,000 worth of taxable property; with miles of navigable rivers 
within her territory and upon her boundaries, and with vast numbers of frugal 
Germans constantly coming to turn her untilled acres into rich farms, can safely 
carry and in due time throw off the various heavy obligations incurred in the 
building of the railway lines now traversing it in every direction. The present 
actual indebtedness of the State is nearly $19,000,000, for more than half of 
which sum bonds have been issued. 

The approaches to St. Louis from the Illinois side of the Mississippi are not 
fascinating, and give but a poor idea of the extent of the city. AHghting from 
some one of the many trains which enter East St. Louis from almost every 
direction, one sees before him a steep bank paved with " murderous stones," and 



the broad, deep, resistless current of the great river, bearing on its bosom tree 
trunks and branches from far-away forests. 

East St. Louis stands upon famous ground ; its alluvial acres, which the 
capricious stream in past times yearly overflowed, have been the scene of many 
fierce contests under the requirements of the so-called code of honor, and its 
sobriquet was once "Bloody Island." It is now a prosperous town; hotels, 
warehouses and depots stand on the ancient dueling ground ; immense grain 
elevators and wharves have been erected on soil which the river once claimed as 
its own. Huge ferry-boats ply constantly across the river; but the railway 
omnibuses and the ferry-boats are soon to be but memories of the past, as the 
graceful arches of the new bridge testify. 

'The crowd awaiting transportation across the stream has always been of the most cosmopohtan and motley character." 

The crowd awaiting transportation across the stream has always been of the 
most cosmopolitan and motley character. There may be seen the German emi- 
grant, flat-capped and dressed in coarse black, with his quaintly attired wife and 
rosy chilnren clinging to him; the tall and angular Texan drover, with his defiant 
glance at the primly dressed cockneys around him; the "poor white" from some 


far Southern State, with his rifle grasped in his lean hand, and his astonished 
stare at the extent of brick and stone walls beyond the river ; the excursion party 
from the East, with its maps and guide-books, and its mountains of baggage ; the 
little groups of English tourists, with their mysterious hampers and packets, 
bound toward Denver or Omaha ; the tired and ill-uniformed company of troops 
" on transfer " to some remote frontier fortress ; the smart merchant in his car- 
riage, with his elegantly dressed negro driver standing by the restive horses ; the 
hordes of over-clothed young commercial men from the Northern and Western 
cities, with their mouths distended by Havana cigars, and filled with the slang of 
half-a-dozen capitals ; and the hundreds of negroes, who throng the levees in 
summer, departing in winter like the swallows, at the slightest hint of snow, or of 
the fog which from time to time heightens the resemblance of the Missouri 
capital to London. 

Before the bridge was built, the levee on each side of the river was a kind of 
pandemonium. An unending procession of wagons, loaded with coal, was always 
forcing its way from the ferry-boats up the bank to the streets of St. Louis, the 
tatterdemalion drivers urging on the plunging and kicking mules with 'frantic 
shouts of " Look at ye!" "You dar!" These wagons, in busy days, were con- 
stantly surrounded by the incoming droves of stock, wild Texan cattle, that with 
great leaps and flourish of horns objected to entering the gangways of the ferry, 
and now and then tossed their tormentors high in the air ; and troops of swine, 
bespattered with mud, and dabbled with blood drawn from them by the thrusts 
of the enraged horsemen pursuing them. Added to this indescribable tumult 
were the lumbering wagon-trains laden with iron or copper, wearily making their 
way to the boats ; the loungers about the curbstones singing rude plantation 
songs, or scuffling boisterously ; the nameless ebb-tide of immigration scattered 
through a host of low and villainous bar-rooms and saloons, whose very entrances 
seemed suspicious ; and the gangs of roustabouts rolling boxes, barrels, hogs- 
heads, and bales, from wagon to wharf, and from wharf to wagon, from morning 
to night. 

Below the bridge, the river, gradually broadening out, was covered with 
coal-barges and steam-tugs, and above it, along the banks, one saw, as one still 
sees, dark masses of homely buildings, elevators, iron foundries, and various 
manufactories ; while along the shore are moored thousands of logs, fastened 
together in rafts. 



THE old French quarter of St. Louis is now entirely given up to business, 
and but little of the Gallic element is left in the town. Some of the 
oldest and wealthiest families are of French descent, and retain the language 
and manners of their ancestors ; but there are few exterior traces of French 
domination. Souvenirs still remain ; streets, both English and American in 
aspect, bear the names of the vanished Gauls. Laclede has a monument in the 
form of a mammoth hotel ; and the principal outlying ward of the city, crowded 

with vast rolling-mills, and iron 
and zinc-furnaces, is called Carondelet. 
On the Illinois side of the river the 
village of Cahokia still lingers, a moss- 
grown relic of a decayed civilization, 
its venerable church, Notre Dame des 
Kahokias, being the most ancient 
building in the West. But not one of 
the great circular stone towers, erected 
in early times as defences against the 
Indians, remain; block-houses and 
bastions have been replaced by mas- 
sive residences, in which live the 
merchant princes of the day. 

" The Hill " is traversed in every 
direction by horse railroads ; and a few 
minutes' ride will take one from the 
a quiet and elegant section, where there are miles of 
beautiful and costly dwellings. As the ridges rise from the river, so rise the 
grades of social status. Mingled with the wholesale establishments, and the 
offices of mining and railway companies in Main and Second streets, parallel 
with the river, are hundreds of dirty and unhealthy tenement houses; on Fourth, 
and Fifth, and Sixth streets, and on those running at right angles with them, are 
the principal hotels, the more elegant of the shops and stores, the fashionable 
restaurants, and the few places of amusement which the city boasts ; beyond, on 
the upper ridges, stretching back to Grand avenue, which extends along the 
summit of the hill, are the homes of the wealthy. 

The passion for suburban residences is fast taking possession of the citizens of 
St. Louis, and several beautiful towns have sprung up within a few miles of the 

The Court - House — St. Louis. 

roar of business into 



city, all of which arc crowded with charming country houses. Lucas Place 
is the Fifth avenue of St. T.ouis, and is very rich in costly homes surrounded by 
noble gardens. The houses there have not been touched by the almost omni- 
present smoke which seems to liovcr over the lower portion of the town. In 

Lucas Place lived the noted Benton, 
and there he foamed, fretted, planned 
his duels, nourished his feuds, and 
matured his magnificent' ideas. The 
avenues which bear the names of 
Washington, Franklin, Lindell, Mc- 
Pherson, Baker, Laclede and Chouteau 
all give promise of future magnificence. 
St. Louis is not rich in public 
buildings, although many of the recent 
structures devoted to business are 
grand and imposing. The hotels 
partake of the grandeur which dis- 
tinguishes their counterparts of other 
cities; on Fourth and Fifth streets 
there are many elegant blocks. 

The street life is varied and at- 
tractive, as in most southern towns ; 
and the auction store is one of the 
.salient features which surprise a 
stranger. The doors of these estab- 
lishments are open from sunrise until midnight, and the jargon of the auctioneer 
can be heard ringing loudly above the rattle of wheels. The genius who 
presides behind the counter is usually some graduate of the commerce of the 
far South. Accustomed to dealing with the ignorant and unsuspecting, his 
eloquence is a curious compound of insolence and pleading. He has a 
quaint stock of phrases, made up of the slang of the river and the slums of 
cities, and he begins by placing an extravagant price upon the article which he 
wishes to sell, and then decreasing its value until he brings it down to the range 
of his customers. 

On Saturday evenings the street life is as animated as that of an European 
city. In the populous quarters the Irish and Germans throng the sidewalks, 
marketing and amusing themselves until midnight ; and in the fashionable sec- 
tions the ladies, seated in the porches and on the front door-steps of their man- 
sions, receive the visits of their friends. 

A drive through dozens of streets in the upper portion of the city discloses 
hundreds of groups of ladies and gentlemen thus seated in the open air, whither 
they have transferred the etiquette of the parlor. A far more delightful and 
agreeable social freedom prevails in the city than in any Eastern community. The 
stranger is heartily welcome, and the fact that most of the ladies have been 
educated both in the East and the West, acquiring the culture of the former 

Thomas H. Benton (for thirty year^ umtca states 
Senator from Missouri). 


and tlic frankness and cordiality of the latter, adds a charm both to their con- 
versation and their beauty. 

At the more aristocratic and elegant of the German beer gardens, such as 
" Uhrig's " and " Schneider's," the representatives of many prominent American 
families may be seen on the concert evenings, drinking the amber fluid, and 
listening to the music of Strauss, of Gungl, or Meyerbeer. Groups of elegantly 
dressed ladies and gentlemen resort to the gardens in the same manner as do the 
denizens of Dresden and Berlin, and no longer regard the custom as a dangerous 
German innovation. 

The German element in St. Louis is powerful, and has for the last thirty 
years been merging in the American, giving to it many of the hearty features 
and graces of European life, which have been emphatically rejected by the 
native population of the more austere Eastern States. In like manner the Ger- 
man has borrowed many traits from his American fellow- citizens, and in another 
generation the fusion of races will be pretty thoroughly accomplished. 

There are more than fifty thousand native Germans now in St. Louis, and the 
whole Teutonic population, including the children born in the city of German 
parents, probably exceeds one hundred and fifty thousand. The original 
emigration from Germany to Missouri was largely from the thinking classes — 
professional men, politicians condemned to exile, writers, musicians, and philoso- 
phers, and these have aided immensely in the development of the State. 

The emigration began in 1830, but after a few hundreds had come out it fell 
off again, and was not revived until 1848, when the revolution sent us a new 
crop of patriots and statesmen, whose mother country was afraid of them. 
Always a loyal and industrious element, believing in the whole country, and in 
the principles of freedom, they kept Missouri, in the troublous times preceding 
and during the war, from many excesses. 

The working people are a treasure to the State. Arriving, as a rule, with 
little or nothing, they hoard every penny until they have enough with which to 
purchase an acre or two of land, and in a few years become well-to-do citizens, 
orderly and contented. The whole country for miles around St. Louis is dotted 
with German settlements ; the market gardens are mainly controlled by them ; 
and their farms are models of thorough cultivation. 

In commerce they have mingled liberally with the Americans; names of both 
nationalities are allied in banking and in all the great wholesale businesses ; and 
the older German residents speak their adopted as well as their native tongue. 
At the time of my visit, a German was president of the city council, and bank 
presidents, directors of companies, and men highly distinguished in business and 
society, who boast German descent, are counted by hundreds. 

German journalism in St. Louis is noteworthy. Carl Schurz and his life-long 
friend and present partner, Mr. Pretorius, are known throughout the country as 
distinguished journalists, and have even, as we have seen in these later days, 
played no small role upon the stage of national politics. 

The failure of the Liberal Republican movement rather astonished the masses 
of the Germans in Missouri, who had the most unwavering confidence in the 


ability of Schurz to accomplish whatever he chose ; and has left them somewhat 
undecided as to what course to pursue in future. There are four daily German 
newspapers in St. Louis, one of which has been recently planted there by the 
Catholics, who have also started a clever weekly, in the hope of aiding in the fight 
against the new principles put in force by the Prussian Government — principles, 
of course, largely reflected among the Germans in America. The sturdy intel- 
lectual life of the Teuton is well set forth in these papers, which are of great ability. 

The uselessness of the attempt to maintain a separate national feeling was 
shown in the case of the famous "Germania" Club, which, in starting, had for its 
cardinal principle the non-admission of Americans ; but at the present time there 
are 200 American names upon its list of membership. The assimilation goes on 
even more rapidly than the Germans themselves suppose ; it is apparent in the 
manners of the children, and in the speech of the elders. 

German social and home life has, of course, kept much of its original flavor. 
There are whole sections of the city where the Teuton predominates, and takes 
his ease at evening in the beer garden and the arbor in his own yard. At the 
summer opera one sees him in his glory. 

Entering a modest door- way on Fourth street, one is ushered through a long 
room, in which ladies, with their children, and groups of elegantly dressed men 
are chatting and drinking beer, into the opera-house, a cheery little hall, where 
A^ery fashionable audiences assemble to hear the new and old operas throughout 
a long season. The singing is usually exceedingly good, and the mise' en scene 
quite satisfactory. Between the acts the audience refreshes itself with beer and 
soda-water, and the hum of conversation lasts until the first notes of the orchestra 
announce the resumption of the opera. On Sunday evenings the opera-house is 
crowded, and at the long windows of the hall, which descend to the ground, one 
can see the German population of half-a-dozen adjacent blocks, tiptoe with 
delight at the whiff of stolen harmony. 

The "breweries" scattered through the city are gigantic establishments, for 
the making of beer ranks third in the productive industries of St. Louis. Iron 
and flour precede it, but a capital of nearly $4,000,000 is invested in the manu- 
facture, and the annual productive yield from the twenty-five breweries is about 
the same amount. Attached to many of these breweries are concert gardens, 
every way scrupulously respectable, and weekly frequented by thousands. 

The Germania and Harmony Clubs, and a hundred musical and literary 
organizations use up the time of the city Germans who are well-to-do, while 
their poorer brethren delve at market gardens, and are one of the chief elements 
in the commerce of the immense and picturesque St. James Market, whither St. 
Louis goes to be fed. The Irishman is also prominent in St. Louis, having crept 
into the hotel service, and driven the negro to another field. 

The operation of the German upon the American mind has been admirably 
exemplified in St. Louis by the growth of a real and noteworthy school of 
speculative philosophy in the new and thoroughly commercial capital, at whose 
head, and by virtue of his distinguished preeminence as a thinker, stands William 
T. Harris, the present superintendent of the city public schools. Mr. Harris, 



during his stay at Yale, in 1856, met the venerable Alcott, of Concorcl, and was 
much stimulated by various conversations with him. At that time he had 
studied Kant a little, and was beginning to think upon Goethe. 

The hints given him by Mr. Alcott were valuable, and some time afterward, 
when he settled in St. Louis, and came into contact with Germans of culture and 
originality, his desire for philosophical study was greatly increased and strength- 
ened. In 1858 he became engaged in teaching, for eight years conducting one 
of the city graded schools. 

The first year of his stay in St. Louis he studied Kant's " Critique of Pure 
Reason," without, as he says, understanding it at all. He had been solicited and 
encouraged to these studies by Henry C. Brockmeyer, a remarkable and brilliant 
German, and so enthusiastic for Kantian study that he awoke a genuine fervor 
in Mr. Harris. They arranged a Kant class, which Mr. Alcott on one occasion 
visited, and in a short time the love for philosophical study became almost 

fanaticism. A num- 
ber of highly cul- 
tured Germans and 
Americans com- 
posed the circle, 
whose members had 
a supreme contempt 
for the needs of the 
flesh, and who, after 
long days of labo- 
rious and exhaustive 
teaching, would 
spend the night 
hours in threading 
the mysteries of 
Kant. In 1858 Mr. 
Harris claims that 

William T. Harris, editor of the St. Louis "Journal of 
Speculative Philosophy." 

they mastered Kant, 
and between that 
period and 1863 
they analyzed, or, as 
he phrases it, ob- 
tained the keys 
to Leibnitz and 
Spinoza. The result 
of this long study 
is written out in 
what Mr. Harris 
calls his " Introduc- 
tion to Philosophy," 
in which he deals 
with "speculative 
insights." Every 
one, he claims, will 

have the same insight into Kant. Leibnitz and Spinoza as he did, by reading his 
"Introduction." He already has a large number of followers, many of whom, 
according to his confession, apply his theories better than he does himself: and 
his Journal of Speculative Philosophy, started boldly in the face of many 
obstacles, has won a permanent establishment and gratifying success. 

Among the most prominent members of the Philosophical Society, definitely 
organized in 1864, were Mr. Brockmeyer, J. G. Werner, now a probate judge, 
Mr. Kroeger (a stern, unrelenting philosopher, enamored of Fichte, translator of 
the "Science of Knowledge," and author of a "History of the Minnesingers"), 
George H. Howison, now in the Boston Institute of Technology, and Mr. Thomas 
Davidson, one of the most profound students of Aristotle in this country. Mr. 
Brockmeyer is the accomplished translator of Hegel's "Logic." 

The Journal of Speculative Philosophy was prompted in this wise : Mr. 
Harris wrote a " Critique upon Herbert Spencer's Plrst Principles," which was 


offered to The North American Review, but the editors failed to diseover any- 
thing in it save that it was very audacious, and returned it to the author. Mr. 
Harris thereupon boldly started his own journal in April of 1867. The publica- 
tion is gaining ground in this country, and has won a very wide and hearty 
recognition in Germany and among thinking men throughout Europe. 

Mr. Harris has been an indefatigable worker, as well as a deep thinker, for a 
score of years. The impetus given by him and his confreres to the growth of a 
deep and pure literature in the West and South is as yet too little appreciated. 
A brilliant talker, a man of great originality, and of positive genius for analysis, 
he is fitted to shine in the brightest of the world's capitals, but loves his South- 
western home, and will doubtless remain in it. The teachers grouped around 
him in his work of directing the schools of the new metropolis arc brilliant men 
and women, thoroughly in love with their v/ork, and animated by his inspiring 
presence with the proper spirit. 

The Germans have, as a rule, frankly joined hands with the Americans in the 
public schools, and have imparted to them many excellent features. The compo- 
site system differs largely from that in vogue in other cities. There is, of course, 
a very large Catholic population in St. Louis, but it is pretty evenly balanced by 
German skepticism. 

The city public schools arc utterly secular in their teaching, but, notwith- 
standing that fact, the priesthood makes constant and successful efforts to keep 
Catholic children from them ; and wherever a new public school building is 
erected. Holy Church speedily buys ground and sets up an institution of her 
own. The Catholic laity of St. Louis, however, are, perhaps, if they spoke their 
real sentiments, in favor of the public schools; and there has been a vast advance 
toward liberalism on their part within the last few years. The Catholics have 
eight or nine out of the twenty-four members of the school board, and of course 
have much to say. 

It is wonderful that in a capital where the population is so little gregarious, 
and where, up to last year, it has been so comparatively indifferent to lecture 
courses, such an earnest interest should be taken in the schools by all classes. 
All the powers relating to the management of the schools arc vested in a corpo- 
rate body called " the Board of President and Directors of the St. Louis Public 
Schools," the members of the board to be elected for terms of three years. The 
school revenue is derived from rents of property originally donated by the Gene- 
ral Government, by the State school fund, and from taxes of four mills on the 
dollar on city property, the yearly income from these sources averaging 
perhaps $700,000. The school board has authority to tax to any amount. 

Between the district and the high schools there is a period of seven years, 
during which the pupil acquires a symmetrical development admirably fitting 
him for the solid instruction which the finishing school can offer. But out of 
forty thousand children enrolled upon the public school list, only about two and 
a-half per cent, enter the high school. The feature of German- English instruc- 
tion has become exceedingly popular, and the number of pupils belonging to the 
classes increased from 450 in 1864-65, to 10,246 in 1871-72. The phonetic 



system of learning to read was introduccxi in the primary schools in 1866, and 
has been attended with the most gratifying results. 

The city acted wisely in introducing the study of German, as otherwise the 
Teutonic citizen would doubtless have been tempted to send his child to a 
private school during his early years. Now native American children take up 
German reading and oral lessons at the same time as their little German fellow- 
scholars ; and in the high school special stress is laid upon German instruction 
in the higher grades, that the pupils may be fitted for a thorough examination 
of German science and literature. 

The growth of St. Louis is so rapid that the school board has been compelled 
to build several large new school buildings annually, each capable of containing 
from seven to eight himdred pupils. The introduction of natural science into the 

district schools is indicative of liberal 
progress. Normal schools in St. Louis 
and at Kirksville and Warrensburg are 
annually equipping splendid corps of 
teachers. The pubHc school system 
throughout the State is exceedingly 
popular, judging from the fact that a 
quarter of a million of children attend 
the schools during the sessions. 

The State fund appropriated to 
school purposes is usually large, and 
although there have been objections to 
local taxation for school support in 
some of the counties, the taxes have 
generally been promptly paid. The 
largest and finest edifices in such 
flourishing cities as St. Joseph, Kansas 
City, Sedalia, Clinton, Springfield, 
Mexico, Louisiana, and Booneville are 
usually the "school -houses ;" and in 
Kansas City, which was without railroad communication in 1865, the school build- 
ings are now as complete, elegant, and large as any in Boston or Chicago. The 
School of Design in St. Louis, conducted by Mr. Conrad Diehl, is rapidly growing, 
and has already won enviable praise in the most cultured art circles of the East. 
The Catholic population within the archdiocese of St. Louis is certainly very 
large, probably numbering two hundred thousand persons ; and from this popula- 
tion at least twenty-five thousand children are furnished to the one hundred 
parish schools attached to the various churches in the diocese. None of these 
schools receive any aid from the common school fund, and the pupils are in 
every way removed from the influences of secular education, and made a class by 

It is estimated that the Catholics now own more than four million dollars' 
worth of church and school property in Missouri; and in their various colleges, 

The High School— St Louis. 



convents, seminaries, and academics in St. Louis and the other large cities of the 

State they have at least fifteen hundred students. They have kept well abreast 

of the tide of secular education, and bid it open defiance on all occasions, while 

the skeptical and easy-going German 

laughs at their zealotry, and the 

American shuts his eyes to their ^ ^" 

growing power. """" ^" 

Vast as is the growth of colleges 
and schools of various other denom- 
inations, such as the Baptist, the 
Methodist, and the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church South, the Catholics 
keep even with them all. Ever since 
old Gribault, the first pastor in St. 
Louis, led his little flock of five 
hundred Frenchmen to the altar. 
Mother Church has been bold, domi- 
nant, defiant in the young capital of 
the West. 

In St. Louis I was especially in- 
terested in "Washington Universit)'^," Washington University — Sl Louis. 

conducted by Rev. Dr. Eliot, so long pastor of the First Unitarian Church in that 
city. The institution has had a superb growth since its founding in 1853-54, 
despite the unfortunate intervention of the war, and now has more than eight 
hundred students in its various branches. Nourished by generous gifts from the 
East, it has made great progress in its departments of civil and mechanical 
engineering, mining and metallurgy, and architecture, and its law department is 
ably supported. 

To that section of the University devoted to the special education of women, 
known as " Mary Institute," the flower of Missourian girlhood annually repairs. 
The University seems to have had an almost mushroom growth; yet its culture is 
solid and substantial. The State University is located at Columbia, and has also 
been characterized by a remarkable growth since the war. During the struggle 
its buildings were occupied by United States troops, and its sessions were entirely 
broken up ; the library was dispersed, the warrants of the institution were afloat 
at a discount, and various prejudices had nearly ruined it. 

At last Rev. Dr. Daniel Read took the presidency ; and the reorganized 
"University comprises a normal college, an agricultural and mechanical college, 
opened in 1870, law and medical schools, and a department of chemistry, and 
now has attached to it a "school of mines and metallurgy," established at Rolla, 
in South-eastern Missouri. Into this mining school students flock from all direc- 
tions, turning their attention toward a scientific development of the mineral 
resources of the State. Women have finally been admitted to the University, 
and, at the commencement of 1872, a young lady was advanced to the baccalau- 
reate grade in science. 





THE midsummer heats, dunnij which I visited the I'Lx'changc of St. Louis, 
seem to make but little difference with the ardor and energy of its mem- 
bers. The typical July day in the Missourian capital is the acme of oppressive 
heat ; before business hours have begun, the sun pours down bewildering beams 
on the current of the great river, on the toiling masses at the levee, and along 
the airless streets rising from the water-side. 

The ladies have done their shopping at an early hour, and gone their ways ; 
paterfamilias seeks his Avernus of an office, clad only in thinnest of linen, 
and with a palm-leaf fan in his hand ; a misty aroma of the ices of Hellery or 
Gregory floats before him as he seats himself at his desk, and turns over the 
voluminous correspondence from far Texas, from the vexed Indian Territory, 
from the great North-west, from Arkansas, or from the hosts of river towns with 
which the metropolis does business. 

At eleven the sun has become withering to the unaccustomed Easterners, but 
the St. Louis paterfamilias dons his broad stravv^ hat, and, proceeding to the 

"Merchants' Exchange," a 

large circular room into 
which the thirteen hundred 
members vainly try each 
day to cram themselves, he 
makes his way to the corner 
allotted to his branch of 
trade, and patiently swelters 
there until nearly one o'clock. 
In this single room every 
species of business is trans- 
acted ; one corner is devoted 
to flour, a second to grain, 
a third to provisions, a 
fourth to cotton, etc. 

A whirlwind of fans as- 

The new Post- Office and Custom-House in construction at St. Louis. tonishcs the Stranger Specta- 

tor ; people mop their foreheads and swing their palm-leaves hysterically as they 
conclude bargains ; and, as they saunter away together to lunch, still vigor- 
ously fan and mop. The tumult and shouting is not so great as in other large 


cities, but the activity is tlic same; tlic participants from time to time refreshing 
themselves at great cans filled with sulphur water. But in a (c\v years the mag- 
nificent new Exchange building, which will be, in many respects, the finest on 
the continent, will be completed, and trade will not only be classified, but will 
have far greater facilities for public transactions than at present. 

St. Louis has determined to become a leading cotton market, and, in view of 
the new railroad development ministering directly to her, it seems probable that 
she will take position among the cptton marts of the world. The opening of 
Northern Texas, and of the whole of Arkansas, to immediate connection by rail 
with the Missourian capital, and the probability — alas, for the faithlessness of 
nations! — of white settlement and increase of cotton culture in the Indian Ter- 
ritory, will give a back-country capable of producing millions of bales annually 
for St. Louis to draw upon. She will eventually become a competitor with 
Houston, Galveston, and New Orleans for the distribution of the crop of the 
South-west, and has already, as she believes, received sufficient encouragement 
to justify the building of large storehouses along the line of the Iron Mountain 

A good deal of the cotton once handled in New Orleans has lately been 
going to New York'- by rail, and the St. Louis merchants and factors are now 
using a " compress," by means of which 23,000 pounds of cotton can be placed 
in a single freight car. The city is receiving only 40,000 to 60,000 bales 
annually, but confidently counts on several hundred thousand as soon as it has 
perfected arrangements for transportation. It will, without doubt, control the 
cotton in certain sections of Arkansas, and the southern portions of Missouri, and 
can make very seductive bids for the crops of many sections of Texas. 

To draw the attention of cotton- growers toward the St. Louis market, the 
Agricultural Association recently offered premiums of $10,000 for the best 
specimens of v'arious grades of cotton. The Atlantic and Pacific, the Missouri, 
Kansas and Texas, the St. Louis and South-eastern, the Mobile and Ohio, and 
the Iron Mountain roads will probably bring large quantities of cotton to St. 
Louis in the future. The testimony of many of the planters of Northern 
Texas is that their shipments to St. Louis have been far more satisfactory 
than those to Galveston. 

St. Louis is emphatically the railroad centre of the Mississippi valley, being 
the actual terminus of no less than fourteen important railroads, while at least 
thirty are pointed toward her. By all the railroads and by river routes she 
received, in 1872, nearly 4,000,000 tons of freight, being a vast increase over her 
receipts of 1871, and shipped 2,009,941 tons. In 1872 the railroads alone 
brought her nearly 800,000 tons of coal. In 1872 she expended $7,000,000 in 
new buildings, and in 1873 about $8,000,000. 

Through her vast elevators, four of which are located along the banks of the 
Mississippi, and one of which has a capacity of 2,000,000 bushels, passed more 
than 28,000,000 bushels of grain in 1872; and in 1873 the receipts and exports 
were largely increased over this figure. She contributed $2,500,000 in duties 
from her custom-house in 1872; manufactured in 1873, 1,384, 180 barrels of flour, 


and received nearly that number by various rail and river routes ; received 
279,678 cattle, and shipped 188,306; imported and exported more than 1,000,000 
swine ; took nearly 30,000 bales of hemp into market ; handled hundreds of 
millions of feet of lumber, shingles and laths drifted down from the Upper 
Mississippi, the Black and the Wisconsin rivers ; and consummated vast bargains 
in wool, hides and tobacco. 

The river trade has many peculiar features, and is subject to a thousand 
fluctuations and adversities which make it, at all times, hazardous. For many 
years past the steamboat men have had unprofitable seasons to bewail. Their 
especial enemies have been low water and railroad competition. The railways 
may in future gradually absorb the carrying trade of the Mississippi valley ; but 
such is not at present the case. The rivers have thus far remained the principal 
arteries of commerce ; and the moment that low water is reached, or ice closes 
navigation, the greatest depression is visible in St. Louis ; trade is at an absolute 

The Mississippi is the main outlet possessed by the city for her supplies for 
southern consumers. In view of this fact, it is of the greatest importance that 
the river should receive the improvements so much needed between the mouths 
of the Missouri and the Ohio. A formidable system of dykes and dams, it is 
confidently believed, would make open navigation feasible throughout the year. 

It is impossible to give an adequate idea of the picturesqueness and vivacity 
of the river trade ; it must be seen. One appreciates the real volume of the 
current of the " Father of Waters" only after he learns something of the multi- 
tude of boats, barges and rafts on its ample breast. Every conceivable variety 
of river-boat grates its keel against the St. Louis levee : the floating palace, the 
"Great Republic;" the "Natchez," or the "Robert E. Lee;" the strong, flat- 
bottomed Red river packet ; the cruisers of the Upper Mississippi and of the 
turbid Missouri ; the barges, in long procession, laden with coal and iron and 
lead and copper ore ; the huge arks of the Transportation Company, each 
capable of receiving 100,000 bushels of grain within its capacious bosom ; while 
rafts of every size and shape are scattered along the giant stream like chips and 
straws on a mountain brook. 

Nearly 3,000 steamboat arrivals are annually registered at the port of St. 
Louis. Drifting down on the logs come a rude and hardy class of men, who 
chafe under city restraint, requiring, now and then, stern management. Some- 
times one of these figures, suddenly arriving from the ancient forests on the 
rivers above, creates a sensation by striding through a fashionable street, his long 
hair falling about his wrinkled and weather-beaten face, and his trusty rifle slung 
at his shoulder. 

The steamboat men on these upper waters of the Mississippi suffer when the 
" ice gorges" come. Faces become dark with anxiety or black with fear at the 
news of each fresh disaster. Even the dreaded " low water," with all the 
dangers of "snags" and sunken wrecks, is not so much to be feared as one of 
the great ice sweeps which, with its glittering teeth, will in a few moments grind 
to atoms hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of property. 



In December the Mississippi, at Sl 
Louis, is sometimes closed by ice, and 
before the great bridge was built, 
hundreds of teams crossed upon the 
natural bridge to and from the Illinois 
shore. The breaking up is sudden — 
dozens of boats and cargoes beinsr 
swept away and annihilated. Then 
come the stories of romantic and hair- 
breadth escapes ; the population along 
the banks becoming wild with excite- 
ment over the pending fate of some 
unfortunate family swept out into the 
ice-fillcd current. Steamboat owners 
even hardly dare look in a newspaper. 

In 1872 there were over five hund- 
red and fifty disasters on the Missis- 
sippi river and her tributaries — by 
few of which, however, was there any 
loss of life, although the annual des- 
truction of property is enormous, oc- 
curring in almost every conceivable 
manner. But the record of these 
disasters is not wdthout its grim humor. 
One can hardly repress a smile at the 
announcement, in the terse, expressive 
language of the river, that " Phil. 
Sheridan broke loose at St. Louis," or 
that " Hyena broke her engine," " Lake 
Erie ran through herself," "Mud Hen 
blew up at Bellcvue," " Enterprise 
broke a wrist at Cairo," "Andy John- 
son blew out a joint near Alton," 
" Wild Cat sunk a barge at Rising 
Sun," " Humming Bird smashed a 
shaft," "St. Francis broke her doctor," 
" Daniel Boone was crowded on shore 
by ice," or "John KUgour, trying to 
land at Evansville, broke nine arms." 
The river-men have not been sat- 
isfied to confer upon their beloved 
craft the names of heroes and saints. 
They rake tip all fantastic cognomens 
which the romance of the centuries or 
the slang of the period can afford, be- 



Stowing thcni upon clumsy and beautiful crafts alike, while they pay but little 
regard to incongruities of gender or class : the "Naiad" may be a coal -barge, 
or the "Dry Docks" a palace steamer. The ice makes short work of even the 
largest cargoes ; the river will swallow up several hundred thousand bushels 
of coal or grain as if it were the merest bagatelle, while the gorges gape for more. 
Great numbers of barges ply between St. Louis and Pittsburg, via the Ohio, 
engaged in the transportation of iron ore. It is a long and wild journey, moving 
slowly upon the treacherous currents of the two great streams, the men on the 
barges sometimes contenting themselves for a month without going on shore, 
living on rude fare, and cuddling with their families in little cabins in the boats' 

View of the Caisson of tlie East Abutment of the St Louis Bridge, as it appeared during construction. 

sides, like the Belgian canal-men. Dozens of these barges are always moored at 
Carondelet, waiting the freights which pour into them from the mines in the 
south-east of the State. When navigation throughout the Mississippi valley 
shall have been properly improved, the river trade of St. Louis will be quadrupled. 
The triumph in engineering, won by Captain Eads in the successful comple- 
tion of the great bridge, is a magnificent one. This Avas not, however, the first 
important work accomplished by him. He built the vessels " Benton," " Baron 
de Kalb," " Cincinnati," and others, used with such effect by Admiral Porter 
during the war. He afterward constructed fourteen iron dads for the United 



States, and he invented various improvements in military and naval defences. 
He was the first man in America or Europe to devise successful means for 
operating heavy ordnance by steam. He knows the Mississippi as well as any 
one can know that most capricious and uncertain of streams, and was, of all men, 
best qualified for the work of bridi^ini^ the current. 

It was evident from the first that the I'^ather of Waters would not consent to 
be bridged without a struggle. The main obstacles to the construction were, of 
course, the width, the depth, and the shifting sands of the river. It was neces- 
sary to take into account the certainty of an enormous increase of transportation, 
and to obstruct navigation as little as possible. The foundations must be planted 
on the rock-bed below the fickle and dangerous sands. 

Two companies for building the bridge were at first organized, one chartered 
by the Missouri Legislature, the other by that of Illinois. The company char- 
tered in Missouri was naturally somewhat jealous of the other, fearing lest 
Chicago might play some game against the interests of St. Louis, and quite a 
contest ensued until, in the spring of 1868, a consolidation was effected, and the 

The building of the East Pier of the St Louis Bridge. 

work was placed under the direction of Captain Eads as chief engineer. The 
new corporation, which has been ably officered, assumed the title of the Illinois 
and St. Louis Bridge Company. The original estimate of the cost of the struc- 


ture was $5,000,000; but the whoL- cost will probably reach $10,000,000, two- 
thirds of which sum have been supplied by J. T. Morgan & Co., American 
bankers in London. 

The greatest difficulties in the work were encountered in the sinking of the 
piers. Captain Eads decided to construct them of solid masonry, and to sink 
them by means of pneumatic caissons, many of the features of which had been 
designed by him expressly to meet the exigencies of the case. The caisson for 
the first pier was made of heavy wrought iron, weighed 500,000 pounds, and was 
82 feet long, 60 feet wide, and 1 8 feet high. It had seven air-chambers, with 
thirteen girders, and nearly 200 workmen were employed on it for four months 
in reaching to the rock-bed in the stream. This was effected at a depth of 93 
feet and four inches below the surface of the water, in March, 1870. In Novem- 
ber of 1870, the launch of the caisson to be used in laying the eastern abutment 
pier was made the occasion of quite a public celebration. That pier now rests on 
the rock at a depth of 130 feet below high water mark. The work in the air- 
chambers during the building of these piers was difficult and dangerous, and from 
time to time the river, as if angry at the intrusion, required a sacrifice of human life. 
Sometimes in winter the work was interrupted by the vast masses of ice hurled 
against the bridge- works ; now and then the sand outside the caissons was scoured 
away, causing the sand inside (put there to equalize the pressure) to burst the 
walls ; and at the banks great trouble was experienced in setting the coffer dams. 

But all obstacles were finally overcome, and in June of 1874, trains began 
crossing the Mississippi on the new bridge. It now stretches from the foot of 
Washington avenue in St. Louis to a corresponding point on the Illinois shore, 
at an elevation of fifty feet above high water. 

Its extraordinary breadth of span and depth of foundation are its chief merits. 
In the western abutment there are 2,500 tons of stone, and in the eastern abut- 
ment pier 45,000. The bridge has three spans, each formed with four ribbed 
arches made of cast-steel. The centre span is 520 feet, and the side ones are 
each 500 feet in the clear. The four arches forming each of these spans consist 
each of an upper and lower curved rib, extending from pier to pier, and between 
these ribs there is a horizontal system of bracing for the purpose of securing the 
arches in their relative distances from each other. Two centre arches of each 
span are thirteen feet nine and a-half inches apart from centre to centre, and the 
upper member of one arch is secured to the lower one of the other by a system 
of diagonal bracing. The roadways are formed by transverse iron beams twelve 
inches in depth, suitably separated. 

The bridge accommodates two double steam railway tracks, and one for 
street railways, besides footwalks and a carriage-way. It is estimated that the 
annual saving to St. Louis by the facilities for transportation accorded by the 
bridge will amount to a million of dollars. 

In the mere item of coal, which is carried to St. Louis from the Illinois side, 
hundreds of thousands of dollars will be saved yearly. A fine union depot will 
soon be erected at the end of the tunnel through which trains will enter and leave 
St. Louis via the bridge. 



LET US peer into that busy suburban ward of St. Louis which still cHngs so 
fondly to its old French name of " Carondelet." The drive thither from 
the city carries you past the arsenal, where Government now and then has a 
few troops, and past many a pretty mansion, into the dusty .street of a prosaic 
manufacturing town, near the bank of the Mississippi. 

Descending toward the water-side from the street you find every available 
space crowded with mammoth iron and zinc-furnaces, in whose immense struc- 
tures of iron, wood, and glass, half-naked men, their bodies smeared with 
perspiration and coal dust, are wheeling about blazing masses of metal, or guid- 

In the "Cut" at Iron Mountain, Missouri. (Page 241. 1 

ing the pliant iron bars through rollers and moulds, or cooling their heated faces 
and arms in buckets of water brought up fresh from the stream. Here, in a zinc- 
furnace, half-a-dozen Irishmen wrestle with the long puddling rods which they 



thrust into the seventy- times-seven lieated furnaces; the ^reen antl yellowish 
flames from the metal are reflected on their pale and withered features, and give 
them an almost unearthly expression. 

h^arther on, the masons are toilinLj at the brick-work of a new blast-furnace, 
which already rears its tall towers a hundred feet above the Mississippi shore; 
not far thence you may see the flaming chimney of the quaint old Carondclet 
furnace — the first built in all that section; or may linger for hours in such 
immense establishments as the South St. Louis or Vulcan iron works, fancying 
them the growth of half a century of patient upbuilding, until you are told that 
nearly every establishment has been created since the war. 

At the Vulcan Iron Works — Caroiidelet 

The Vulcan Iron Works, which now employs twelve hundred men in its blast- 
furnaces and rolling-mills, overspreads seventeen acres, boasts $600,000 worth of 
machinery, and has two furnaces smelting 25,000 tons of ore annually, while its 
rolling-mill can turn out 45,000 tons of rail in a year, was not in existence in 
1870 ; indeed, there was not a brick laid on the premises. There is nothing else 
so wonderful as this in the South or South-west ; Kansas City, in the north- 
western part of the State, is the only other place in Missouri which can show 
similar material progress. 

The little Riviere dcs Peres, where the holy Catholic fathers once had a mis- 
sion among the Osage Indians, empties into the Mississippi, close beside the 
Vulcan iron works ; its banks are piled high with coal and refuse. The fathers 
would know it no more. They would stare aghast at the thousand horse-power 
pump ; at the myriads of fiery snakes crawling about on the floors of the rolling- 
mill ; at the troops of Irish laborers, the cautious groups about the doors of 
the sputtering blast-furnace, and the molten streams pouring into the sand-beds 
to form into "pigs" of iron; and could hardly credit the statement that Caron- 
dclet furnaces alone can manufacture 140,000 tons of iron yearly. 


This sudden and marked progress at Carondelet is significant. Such amazing 
growth is indicative of a splendid future. The elder England is fading out ; her 
iron-fields are exhausted ; and her producers growl because American iron- 
masters can at last undersell those of England. The heart of the republic, the 
great commonwealth of Missouri, is to be the England of to-morrow. 

Her mineral stores are inexhaustible. There are a thousand railroads locked 
up in the great coffers of the Iron Mountain. A thousand iron ships lie dormant 
in the ore-pockets scattered along the line of the Atlantic and Pacific railway, 
and a million fortunes await the men who shall come and take them. Missouri 
is one of the future great foundries of the world ; the coal-fields of Indiana and 
Illinois are near at hand ; the earth is stored with hematites; the hills are seamed 
with speculars. The work has already begun in earnest. 

Enough good iron can be produced from Missouri ores and Illinois coal to 
supply the wants of the United States henceforth ; and at the rate at which 
furnaces are at present multiplying throughout the State, this consummation will 
be reached. All the conditions for a favorable competition with England have 
at last been arrived at, for the cost of labor in Missouri furnaces to-day is but a 
trifle more than it is in the cheapest furnaces in Wales. The four or five millions 
which St. Louis now has invested in the manufacture of pig-iron will, in a few 
years, become forty or fifty; and the furnaces in South-eastern Missouri, aided by 
those in Pennsylvania supplied with ore from the same source, will girdle the 
world with their products. The aggregate production of pig-iron in Missouri 
in 1870 was 54,000 tons; in 1880 it will be ten times that amount, for the 
capacity of Carondelet alone in 1873 was nearly three times as much as that of 
the whole State three years ago.* If St. Louis, unaided by any special interest, 
could increase the value of her manufactured products from $27,000,000 in 
i860 to more than $100,000,000 in 1870, what may she not be expected to 
accomplish, with the Iron Mountain at her back, in the decade at whose very 
beginning she has demonstrated such wonderful capacity for progress ? 

How long, before, with proper investment of capital, St. Louis may be the 
centre of a region producing as many millions of tons of pig-iron annually as 
are now produced in England ? Continuing as she has begun, less than twenty 
years will place her at that pinnacle of commercial glory. 

I will not follow the ingenious individuals who have lightened the ennici of 
their leisure by computing, upon a highly speculative basis, the exact number of 
tons of ore contained in the famous Iron Mountain. But there is no doubt 
that the term inexhaustible can with justice be applied to its stores. 

Certain acute English witnesses have recently, after a careful survey, declared 
that the coal and iron deposits of Alabama are now the most deeply interesting 
material facts on the American continent. Whether or not this statement is at 
all influenced by the knowledge that numerous investments in Alabama's iron- 
fields have been made by Englishmen, or by ignorance of the quantity and 

* The coal used at Carondelet comes from the lUinois side of the Mississippi, and a new 
bridge across the stream at that point is contemplated, that the high prices charged during the 
icy season may be avoided. 



quality of the ore in Missouri, 1 do not know; but the latter State may cer- 
tainly claim an equal share in the interest which her sister of the South has 
awakened, so far as the value of her deposits is concerned. If it can be said that 
the hematites of Alabama, which yield fifty-six per cent, of pure iron, will 
compare favorably with the best ores of Cumberland and the North of Spain, 
what shall we say of the ores of Missouri, which in many cases boast a proven 
yield of sixty-six per cent.? 

The main iron region of Missouri is situated in tlie south-cast and southern 
portions of the State, and the greater portion of it is adjacent and directly tribu- 
tary to St. Louis. The hundreds of thousands of tons of ore annually sent out of 
the State to be smelted all pass through or near the great city. 

My visit to the Iron Mountain had been resolved upon before I entered Mis- 
souri ; but my wildest ideas of its importance were none too exaggerated for the 
reality. The "mountain" is situated eighty-one miles south-west of St. Louis, 
on the Arkansas branch of the Iron Mountain railroad. The route thither in 
summer-time is charming. The railroad runs so near to the banks of the Missis- 
sippi (there high and rugged), that nervous people, not fascinated by the grand 
outlook over the current, may confess to a tremor now and then. 

But the exquisite shapes of the foliage on the one bank, and the great 
expanse of the "bottoms" on the other, made a pleasing picture, to which the 
dazzling sheen of the broad sheet of smoothly-flowing water, bearing lightly 
forward the white steamers and the dark, flat barges, lent a strange charm. 
From Bismarck, a pretty little station among pleasant fields, it was but a brief 
ride to Iron Mountain station, the town which has grown up out of the mining 
interests managed and owned in these latter years by Chouteau, Harrison, and 
Valle. Three of the wealthiest families in Missouri are represented in the owner- 
ship of this and the adjacent region, and each has been much interested in the 
material development of the State. 

The " mountain," which rises rather abruptly from a beautiful valley, land- 
locked and filled with delicious fields, was originally rather more than 200 feet 
high, and its base covers an area of 500 acres. All the country round about is 
still crowded with reminiscences of Spanish domination. The names of some of 
the counties and towns are French and Spanish souvenirs ; and the " King's 
Highway," running through St. Franfois county, is still often called by its 
original name. 

The people in the vicinity are quiet and usually well-to-do farmer folk, and 
look upon the mountain as the most wonderful of natural phenomena. The 
French and Spaniards seem never to have suspected the rich nature of the 
queerly-shaped elevation and its surroundings ; for the original possessor, Joseph 
Pratte, who obtained it by a grant from Zenon Trudeau, the Spanish governor, 
in September of 1797, mentions in his petition for a grant that the land is sterile, 
and only fit for grazing. 

Pratte's grant composed some 20,000 arpents, or 17,000 English acres, and 
from his hands it became the property of Van Doren, Pease & Co., who, in 1837, 
were recognized as the Iron Mountain Company. Congress had meantime con- 



firmed the Spanish grants. In 1843 the American Iron Mountain Cfjmpany 
took the place of the above-mentioned firm. August Belmont, of New York, 
was among the subscribers to the capital stock, which was $273,000; and James 
Harrison, of St. Louis, one of* the most energetic iron workers of the West, was 
its first president. 

For many years the investments of the original companies did not pay, and 
the investors were sneered at as guilty of an act of folly. 

In those days the Iron Mountain railroad was not, and all the ore dug out 
was hauled painfully forty-five miles in carts to the ancient town of St. Gene- 
vieve. But when pig-iron became worth $85 per ton, there was no lack of 
energy in examining the real resources of the mountain, and since 1862 the 
company has taken millions of tons of ore from the surface and from the deep 
incisions made in the hill-sides. 

The ores there, as throughout the section, arc mainly rich specular oxides, 
and were originally pronounced too rich to work. Even to this day the surface 
specimens are plenteous, and one could readily pick up a cart-load of lumps all 
ready for the furnace. In the deep cuts and along the mountain sides more than 
1 ,000 men were at work at the time of my visit, Irishmen, Swedes and Germans 

The Furnace — Iron Mountain, Missouri. [Page 242.] 

The mountain is composed almost exclusively of iron in its purest form, and 
the regiment of laborers mine ore enough to load 125 cars, carrying 10 tons each, 
daily, besides supplying two furnaces of large capacity, established at the base of 
the mountain. A century of hammering at the hill's sides will not bring it level 
with the valley. The surface ore is so intermingled even with the earth, that I 


found a number of stout Swedes washing it very much as gold is washed for, and 
extracting tons which, in more careless days, had been thrown away. 

Iron Mountain is a typical Missouri mining town. It was mainly built up by 
Hon. John G. Scott, of St. Louis, an ex-Congressman, and largely identified 
with all the iron interests of that section. Mr. Edwin Harrison, the present 
president, and one of the principal owners, is an accomplished metallurgist, one 
of the most active business men in the South-west, and interested in a dozen 
large and successful enterprises connected with the development of metal. Both 
at Iron Mountain and at Irondale, as well as at other mining towns which 1 
visited, the workmen have built handsome cottages, and liquor and the other 
debasing influences sometimes found at mines are beyond their reach. 

There was a subtle charm about the roar and ominous hum of the great fur- 
naces after dark, when the clink of the hammers and the noise of the blasting 
on the mountain had ceased, and darkness had shrouded the little valley. The 
chimneys of the " blasts" glowed like dragons' eyes ; the semi-nude figures flitting 
in the huge open sheds, before the doors of the furnaces, looked like demons. 

When the masses of broken and carefully-selected ore, together with the 
requisite charcoal and limestone, had been transfused in the fearful heat, and the 
blast was ready to be drawn off, the workmen gathered half timorously about 
the aperture whence the molten iron was to flow, and gave it vent. Then first 
sprang out a white current — the slag — looking like gypsum, and hardening as it 
touched the sand. Finally came the deep fiery glow of the iron itself, as it 
flowed resistlessly down the channels cut in the sand to receive it, hissing fiercely 
from time to time, and lighting up the great stone vault of the furnace with an 
unearthly glare, then " dying into sullen darkness," and forming the cold, hard, 
homely bars which are one day rolled into the rails by means of which we anni- 
hilate distance, and build cities like St. Louis. 

The whole region round about is rich in mines and minerals. A few miles 
below Iron Mountain rises Pilot Knob, a stately peak towering far above the 
lovely Ozark range which surrounds it in every direction ; and from the por- 
phyry there and on Shepherd Mountain great quantities of ore are extracted. 
It is the boast of the people of the section that Iron county, in which lie Shep- 
herd, Arcadia and Bogy mountains and the Knob, contains more iron than any 
other equal area known on the globe. 

From this valley more than 100,000 tons of iron have been shipped since the 
formation of the Pilot Knob Iron Company. The works there and elsewhere 
in this section were much injured, and some of them were burned, during the 
war, by Price's raiders. - The silicious and magnetic and specular oxides found in 
the Pilot Knob and Shepherd Mountain region are abundant and pure. The 
specular oxides abound in Dent, Crawford, Phillips and Pulaski counties. The 
beds of bog ore extend for miles among the swamps and cypresses in South- 
eastern Missouri; and hematite ores are found in almost every county in the 
south of the State. Throughout the coal-measures of the commonwealth there 
are vast beds of spathic ore, which will serve when the more available deposits 
have been exhausted. 



The Summit of Pilot Knob — Iron County, Missouri. [Page 242.] 

And this is not all. For miles and miles along the Missouri river, iron crops 
out from the bold and picturesque bluffs, and it is estimated that it can be easily 
mined and placed in barges for less than a dollar per ton. On the line of the 
Atlantic and Pacific railroad also, vast deposits of the blue specular variety are 
gradually being un- 
earthed. At Scotia, at 
Sullivan, at Jamestown, 
at Salem, the treasures 
of iron arc. astonishing. 

Missouri .should take 
care to keep the furnaces 
for smelting these ores 
within her borders, for 
pig-iron and Bessemer 
steel can to-day be made 
cheaper there, at the 
present prices of labor 
and coal, than in Penn- 
sylvania. If America 
desires or intends one day 
to supply Europe with 
the ore which she is beginning to clamor for, the policy of transporting the 
ores from these fresh fields to the furnaces in the Quaker State seems neither 
wise nor economical. The stores of coal match those of iron ; it was long ago 
estimated that Missouri had an area of 26,000 square miles of coal-beds between 
the mouth of the Des Moines river and the Indian Territory ; and along all the 
railroads in Northern Missouri, and beside the Missouri Pacific, coal-veins have 
proved very extensive. 

The development of the lead mines of Missouri is full of romance. De Soto, 
disdaining any thing save gold, carelessly passed them by. One hundred and 
fifty years ago Renault and La Motto hunted in the Ozark hills for the precious 
metal, but only found lead, and to-day La Motte's mine is still called by his 
name. As early as 18 19 the annual yield of the lead mines in the State was 
3,000,000 of pounds; in 1870 the annual production amounted to nearly 
14,000,000; and in 1872 it had risen to over 20,000,000. 

The revival of the lead mining interest, in 1872, created almost as much 
excitement in certain sections as if gold had been in question. The largest 
investments were made in South-western and Central Missouri ; old mines were 
reopened, new machinery was hurried in, and in Jasper county, a wild section 
on the borders of Kansas and the Indian Territory, a new town sprang up as by 
magic in the midst of a section where lead lay near the surface. There was 
genuine California enthusiasm ; furnaces, stores, shops, hotels and churches 
arose on Joplin creek, and the town of "Joplin" was born. An impulse was 
given to the lead production of Missouri, which will not decline until the imports 
of lead from Europe to this country have been vastly reduced. 




The area of the lead region comprises nearly ;",ooo square miles. In the 
neighborhood of Jasper and Newton counties are large stores of zinc ores, sup- 
posed to extend into the Indian Tcrritorj-. In the counties of St. hVan^ois and 
Madison there is a fine vein of lead, of great length, " running at large" through 
limestone strata. Upon this vein are the splendid properties of the Mine La 
Motte Company. Most of the lead in that vicinity, and in Franklin, Wash- 
ington, Jefferson, Crawford, Phelps, Dent, and other counties, carries cobalt and 
nickel in abundance, and not far away, brown hematite iron ores are found in 
profusion. The extension of the Iron Mountain and the Atlantic and Pacific 
railroads through the mineral regions has done more for the future development 
of the State than all other efforts put together. 

In a few years both roads will be lined with furnaces and mines of all descrip- 
tions, and will extend branches in every direction. Several varieties of copper 
are found in the State, and the mines in Shannon, Madison, and Franklin coun- 
ties have been worked successfully. New discoveries of zinc ore arc daily made 
in all sections ; cobalt, nickel, manganese, tin, and marble are also found. The 
Ozark marbles of Missouri are already famous ; they aid in the adornment of the 
national capital. Excellent building limestones, coarse, reddish granite and 
various shades of sandstones, are to be found in all quarters. 

But the iron and coal interests tributary to St. Louis dominate all others, and 
give the finect promise. It is evident that Missouri is about to enter as a for- 
midable competitor upon one of the greatest industrial fields in the world. She 
has cheap food in a strong new country, rapidly receiving immigration. She has 
ores of surpassing richness lying close to the surface. She has coal in vast areas, 
easily mined — coal, too, which does not require coking before it aids in the 
smelting of iron ore. She has an economical system of inter-communication by 
river and rail, backed, we may hope and predict, by plenty of money in the 
strong boxes of the fathers of St. Louis. The time is coming when that capital, 

which has so long lain dormant, will 
be awakened, and turned into the ser- 
vice of the industry that in less than 
a generation is to make St. Louis a 
city with a million inhabitants. 

Here we are again at Carondclet 
— passing the long ore-trains hourly 
arriving from the Iron Mountain. 
What crowding, vv^hat noise and clang 
of machinery, what smoke and stench 
of coal ! The workmen, with thick 
leather aprons about their waists, and 
gloves on their hands, are bringing 
the bars of pig-iron from the blast- 
furnaces, and cording them up by 
hundreds. Here is a crowd of per- 
IPage 242.] turbed Irish laborers, shrieking and 

The "Tracks"— Pilot Knob, Missouri. 



dancing around a prostrate man, whose limbs have been scarred and seared 
by a sudden spurt of hot iron from the furnace. His comrades are bending 
over him, eagerly cutting away his garments with their knives, while the iron 
burns its way into his flesh. 

»a Miito.i!»^f».vtnjrCo . 96 




FROM Carondelet we may return cityward by another route, climbing the hill 
which leads to Grand avenue, and wandering up a country road to a vine- 
yard, and a "garden-close" among beautiful shrubbery. The hills around are 
covered with vineyards, or rich fields of corn and other cereals. Returning to 
Grand avenue, you may drive through the new "Tower Grove " park, wdth its 

View in Shaw s Oarden — Su Louis. 

pretty arbors, rustic houses, and clumps of trees ; past Lafayette park, much like 
one of the great squares in the West End of London, and, rattling through street 
after street, lined with elegant houses, descend at last toward the banks of the 
river and the business section of the town. 

Although the suburbs of St. Louis are not remarkable, there are many 
attractive parks and parklets near at hand. The superb botanical garden known 
as "Shaw's," adjoining the "Tower Grove" park, is the especial pride of Mis- 
souri. The Forest park, containing fourteen hundred acres, clothed in delicious 
foliage, dotted with elms, oak, ash and sycamores, festooned with grape-vines. 


and watered by the capricious little Riviere dcs Peres, is not as yet improved, but 
will doubtless be the principal recreation ground of the city in time. Lindell, 
Belmont, and the Park of Fruits, are all beautiful ; and the park upon which the 
famous St. Louis fair is annually held has many lovely winding' walks, garden- 
spots, and knots of shrubbery. 

To this fair-ground every October many thousands of visitors flock from 
the whole Mississippi valley; and the vast amphitheatre, which will seat 
twenty -five thousand people, is daily crowded by a constantly changing 
audience. St. Louis worships annually one day at the .shrine of this fair, 
which is mechanical as well as agricultural in its scope. All business is 
suspended ; schools are closed, and a species of high carnival is inaugurated. 
Inside the amphitheatre there is a huge procession of horses, cattle, sheep, 
and swine, at which the good burghers look on something after the fashion 
of ancient Romans at the Coliseum. 

The stranger will do well to wander the whole city over — dine at Porcher's, 
and loiter in the pleasant parlors of the ''University Club;" to attend the 
concerts at Uhrig's, and the mass in the old cathedral ; inspect the plafonds and 
other gorgeous splendors of the palace in which the St. Louis Life Insurance 
Company transacts its business ; see 
Benton on his pedestal in Lafayette 
park ; and visit the burial grounds of 
beautiful Bellefontaine. He may dive 
into the great vaults of the Imperial 
Wine Company, where a million bottles 
of native champagne lie always cooling; 
or do reverence to the Water Works, 
where two powerful engines each force 
the Mississippi river to contribute 
seventeen million gallons daily to supply 
the wants of the city; or have a peep 
at the prisons of the "Four Courts," 
and even be a looker-on at the matinee, 
locally known as "The Terrible Court," 
where a police judge dispenses justice, 
sends vagrants to the workhouse for a 
thousand days, and suspicious charac- 
ters across the river in twenty minutes. 
Or he may explore the score of mam- 
moth foundries, where iron is manu- 
factured in every form, from gas-piping ~ ^^^^Z_ "Z^ ^= -^^^±Z^ 

to architectural work for houses ; or statue to Thomas H. Benton, in Lafayette Park. 

gaze at the dome of the imposing Court -House, — a kind of miniature "St. 
Paul's," — or climb the hill at the city's back, on which the ungainly Lunatic 
Asylum stands. Or he may visit the First Presbyterian and Christ churches; 
or inspect the Gratiot street prison, where many sympathizers with the 



cause of the South were confined during the late war. But after all this, he 
may look about and be surprised to find that a city of four hundred and fifty 
thousand inhabitants cannot boast a first-class theatre,* and is compelled to 

have its opera season in 
a second - rate variety hall. 
If one insists on being 
amused, however, he can 
read the editorial columns 
of the leading newspapers, 
and note the playful ani- 
mosity which evidently 
guides the editorial pens, 
getting a lesson or two, 
meanwhile, in journalism ; 
for St. Louis is as rich in 
journals as it is poor in 
theatres, — The Democrat, 
The Republican, The Globe, 

The ' F ur Courts ' Buildmg-St. Lou.. [Pn^e .^7 ] ^^d The TwieS all shoW'ing 

admirably equipped establishments. The Republican building is one of the 
most elegant and complete newspaper offices in the world ; there is but 
one in the country which equals it, and that is in New York. TJie Democrat 
is a Republican journal, and The Re- 
publican is Democratic. 

The first number of The Republican 
was issued in 1808, as The Gazette, 
printed on a rude press of Western man- 
ufacture. It has twice arisen, an untiring 
phoenix, from the ruins of great fires. 
Mr. Knapp, its editor, was always an 
opponent of secession, although strictly 
his paper might now be classed as an 
opposition sheet. The Democrat was an 
early advocate of free soil principles, 
and a stout defender of the new Repub- 
lican party in the troublesome times 
following the election of Buchanan. Tt 
is now ably managed by George W. 
Fishback, one of the leading journalists 
of the West. The Globe grew out of 
a division of interests in The Democrat ; "^^^ Gn.'&oi street Prison-St. i.ouis. iPage 247] 

both it and The Times have grown up handsomely. The Dispatch and The 
Journal are evening papers, respectively Democratic and Republican. The 

* There are several theatrical buildings, but there is no regularly organized theatre. 



religious and literary press of the city numbers several able periodicals, among 
which is The Southern Review, a quarterly of national reputation. 

The higher intellectual life in St. Louis is not apparently so vigorous as that 
of many of the Eastern cities. The nature of its population prevents a large and 
symmetrical growth at present in that direction. A great portion of that popula- 
tion is either foreign born, or in the transition from the old to the new nationality; 
and the material growth of the city and the neighboring country is so " fierce 
and vast " * that people have little time for abstractions, or for the graces and 
culture which come with literature and art. There are one or two promising 
artists, and Mr. Diehl and Mr. Pattison have done some good work. 

It has been said that no course of lectures has ever paid in St. Louis; this 
seems astonishing, if, indeed, it be the fact. The libraries are numerous and 
good. The Mercantile is the largest, and its spacious rooms are adorned with 
statues by Miss Hosmer, and other 
sculptors of note. 

Of course the city boasts many 
splendid interiors and almost princely 
establishments. It could hardly fail 
to produce them, with a dry-goods 
trade which, in 1872, aggregated 
fifty millions of dollars, and is steadily 
increasing at the rate of thirty per 
cent, yearly. Before the war the dry- 
goods business engaged but from ten 
to twelve millions. The retail trade 
of one dry-goods establishment in 
St. Louis now amounts to more 
than six million dollars annually, and 
there are two which boast a million, 
and four half- a -million each. The 
trade in groceries spreads over an 
immense section, there being in this business three firms whose transactions 
amount to two millions each annually, and no less than seven which claim 
a million each. 

The sales of sugar by one of the principal sugar refinery companies amounted 
to 32,000,000 pounds in 1872, and yielded the Government nearly $1,000,000 of 
revenue. The wholesale trade in hardware counts up several millions, and in 1871 
seven wholesale firms reported sales varying from $600,000 to $150,000. More 
than one hundred million feet of lumber are usually on hand in the St. Louis 
markets. From five to seven million dollars are invested in leather manufac- 
tures, and the annual sales exceed fifteen millions. Three -fourths of all the 
sheetings sold in St. Louis are now manufactured in cotton mills in the Missis- 
sippi valley, and St. Louis herself has considerable capital inv^ested in the manu- 
facture of textile fabrics for her own market. 

First Presbyterian Church — St. Louis. [Page 247.] 

* See General Walker's preface to last Census Report. 


GAIN S I N C !•: T H K \V A li 


Chnst Church — St. Louis. [Page 247.] 

The gain which the city has made since the war is shown by the statement tiiat 
in i860 the capital invested in manufactures there was about $13,000,000, while 
it is now more than $60,000,000. T'ine churches, hospitals, and many worthy 
charities show that much of the profit from these immense businesses is properly 

employed.* In the local and muni- 
cipal politics there are but few excite- 
ments. The Germans are not so 
readily welcomed in official positions 
as they once were, because a pretty 
liberal exercise of power had revived 
their feeling of nationality rather too 
strongly, and they were making 
German blood an overweening quali- 
fication for office. 

The true valuation of the property 
within the limits of St. Louis city is 
$475,000,000. The bonded debt of 
the metropolis is a little over 
$14,000,000; the floating debt is 
$543,669; the amount of cash and 
assets now in the sinking fund, 
$805,744. It is impossible in the limits of a work of this description to 
give an exact statement of the amount of trade, and increase in wealth and 
manufactures. I have endeavored merely to show how vigorous and substantial 
that increase has been. New industries are constantly locating at St. Louis, or in 
its immediate vicinity ; and a persistence is shown in their establishment which 
augurs grand results. The history of glass manufacture there has been one of 
disaster for many years ; it is said that a million dollars has been sunk in unsuc- 
cessful efforts to establish it, but at last St. Louis has the credit of an establish- 
ment which can produce plate- glass, said to be equal to the best of European 

St. Louis is, I believe, the only city in the United States which ever adopted the 
Continental method of licensing the social evil, and there has been a great battle 
recently fought over it, in which church, society, and the Legislature took active 
part. Mayor Brown, progressive and liberal in municipal matters, sided with the 
license system, maintaining that it was the only means to the much desired 
end — reform and control of the fallen. The money received from license fees 
was devoted purely to the furthering of reformatory measures. The Legislature 
was induced to consider the matter seriously, and St. Louis was finally compelled 
to relinquish a system which has been so much debated. Missouri maintains a 
State lottery, and that too has been somewhat discussed. It is honestly admin- 
istered, but seems poor business for a State to lend its sanction to. 

* These figures only serve to show the condition of trade in St. Louis in 1873-74; the growth 
and increase is so rapid that it is almost impossible to collect statistics one month which will be 
correct the next. 


The Missouri river, flowing from west to cast through the commonwealth, 
divides the State into northern and southern portions, the rich agricultural lands 
of which Missourians are so proud lying mainly north of the muddy, lazy stream. 
Where the river first touches the Kansas line there is, as has been already 
intimated, another instance of marvelous growth, still more wonderful, perhaps, 
than the progress of St. Louis. 

Kansas City, the young colossus bestriding the bold and irregular bluffs on the 
southern bank of the Missouri just below the mouth of the Kansas, was, in 1850, 
a shabby town, vainly struggling upon the flats by the river side. It had once 
been a station for the wild " bull- whackers," who came to load their "prairie 
schooners" from the Missouri river boats; and even several years afterward it 
was graceless enough to be thus touchingly characterized by one of the rude 
men of the frontier: "There 's no railroad west of Junction City, no law west of 
Kansas City, and no God west of Hays' City." During the war the forlorn and 
remote town suffered all kinds of evils ; but in 1 865 the Missouri Pacific railroad 
reached it. Then it sprang up! It is now the terminus of nine splendid railroads, 
which stretch out their long arms over Kansas, Missouri, across the great desert 
to Colorado, give direct connection with Omaha, Chicago and the North, and 
tap Texas and her newly developed fields. 

The city seems to have sprung out of the ground by magic. Upon its scraggy 
bluffs, pierced in all directions by railroad tracks, more than 40,000 people have 
settled, and built miles of elegant streets, lined with fine warehouses, school and 
church edifices. They have bridged the Missouri, erected massive depots and 
stock- yards, fine hotels and many princely residences, and have two of the best 
newspapers in the North-west. They control the market from the Missouri river 
to the Rocky Mountains, have a valuation of $42,000,000, instead of the $1,000, 
000 which they boasted twelve years ago. The jobbing trade of the city alone 
amounts to $17,000,000. The aggregate deposits in the banking institutions in 
1872 reached $72,000,000. Eighty railway trains arrive and depart from the 
crowded depots daily. During the last seven months of 1871, 200,000 cattle 
were received in its stock-yards. More beef is packed there than in any other 
city in the United States. 

In the lower town, which lies down close to the Kansas line (a portion of it, 
indeed, being in Kansas), one sees throngs of drovers and cattle-dealers ; clouds 
of dust arise in the wake of the bellowing and plunging herds in transit; there is 
a lively stock-market, where hundreds of persons are buzzing about from sunrise 
until sunset; and the railway lines through the streets are so numerous that a 
stranger's life is constantly in danger. Four great packing-houses have facihties 
for dressing 2,000 cattle daily; the spectacle within their vast interiors, where 
hundreds of grimy and bloody butchers dexterously rend the vitals of the 
animals, and convert their flesh into carefully cured and packed provisions, being 
as imposing as it is disagreeable. In 1872 more than 20,000 cattle and 120,000 
swine passed through the hands of Kansas City butchers. 

As the eastern terminus of the great Texan cattle roads of the West alone, 
Kansas City can become one of the largest cities in the West. It is a busy, 


bustling town, in whose streets the elegantly dressed business man jostles the 
slouching, unkempt farmer from the back-country ; where the hearty currents of 
frontier rudeness meet and mingle with the smoothly-flowing and resistless 
streams of business civilization. Energy is necessary — for, when a new street is 
to be laid out, a bluff has to be leveled ; the town has only been fastened to its 
place by sheer audacity and tremendous pluck. Thousands of Germans and 
Jews have settled in all the region round about. 

The hard riding, hard drinking, blustering Missourian, who carries bowie- 
knife and revolver — the type of those adventurous knights who used to amuse 
themselves by crusading into Kansas, and committing "border-ruffian" outrages, 
is rarely to be seen ; and when one of them finds himself by accident in the roar- 
ing, trafficking town, he feels so uncomfortably out of place that he immediately 
turns his horse's head toward the open country again. Where in i860 there was 
nothing but a desolate moor, now stands a depot through which 1,000,000 people 
annually pass. In twenty years Kansas City will become one of the great 
manufacturing centres of the country. 

The influence and mark of Southern manners have vanished from the north- 
western sections of Missouri. A new type has arisen, and swept out of sight 
those who prevailed " befo' the waw." The same remark may be made of St. 
Louis. Once a thoroughly Southern city in all its attributes, it is now cosmo- 
poHtan. In the northern and north-western portions of the State there are large 
'numbers of New England people ; the tone of society and manners is a curious 
mixture of Colorado and Maine. In some of the counties there is wild life, and 
the enforcement of law is rather difficult ; but such counties are the exceptions. 
The Missouri farmers can never allow a court to try a horse-thief; they always 
give him short shrift. Popular justice is very healthful in many instances, and 
keeps down future rascality. 

Population is the prime need of Missouri. The agricultural resources of the 
State are immense. The river-bottoms along the Missouri are as rich as the 
valley of the Nile. In journeying beside them on the Missouri Pacific railroad 
one sees immense spaces but recently cleared of forests, dotted with log-cabins, 
and barns and their omnipresent appendages, the hog-yards filled with dozens of 
swine ; yellow corn-fields, acres on acres, extending as far as the eye can reach 
among the girdled trees ; men and women cantering to market on bareback 
horses, and grimy children staring from the zig-zag fences. 

The life is like the products of the soil, dusty and coarse ; there is a flavor of 
corn and pork about it, but it is full of vigor. The country north of the Missouri 
river is rich, undulating prairie, watered by abundant streams. The Platte 
country is famous for hemp, grain, and superb stock; and, indeed, there is no 
section of Missouri which is not well adapted to stock-raising. The climate is so 
mild that there is rarely any necessity of shelter for stock in the winter. The 
State is covered with a network of small streams; the grasses everywhere are 
rich, and grain crops are unfailing. Countless swine, sheep and cattle now roam 
over the vast sweUing prairies; the swine, I. am sorry to say, roaming with equal 
freedom in the streets of most of the towns. Immense tracts of good land south 


of the Osage river — a grand section for vineyards, shccp-farnis, and fruit — can 
be had for from fifty cents to five dollars per acre. The bottom lands along the 
Mississippi river are ver); rich, and are all capable of cultivation. The staple 
products of the State — Indian corn, wheat, rye, oats, barley, buckwheat, potatoes, 
tobacco, hay, grapes, wool and hemp* — grow luxuriantly and }icld largely. t 

The foliage of the Missouri forests is exquisitely beautiful. The timber-lines 
along the creeks, and the great woods, covering hundreds of acres, are alike 
charming. Even in sections where there has been no cultivation, one finds 
delicious lawns shaded by trees, as graceful and luxuriant as if the product of 
the care of centuries. 

The sycamores and oaks are of marvelous height, sometimes measuring i ^o 
or 140 feet, and on all the forest monarchs hang graceful festoons of wild grape- 
vines, the trumpet-flower, and many pretty winding parasites. In the south-east 
of the State are enormous groves of yellow pine, in whose aisles wild animals 
still stalk fearlessly. But the woodman's axe is rapidly annihilating all these 
beautiful sylvan retreats. 

In journeying across the State along the line of the Kansas City and North- 
ern railroad, I found many little towns of the same unsubstantial outward 
appearance as those I had seen in South-western Missouri during our journey 
Texas- ward. The little villages seemed like those toy ones we play with in 
childhood, and were all of one general plan. "Saloon — Wines and Liquors" is 
always a conspicuous sign ; and the hum and bustle of the town centres about 
the depot. 

Such places are the outgrowth of the railway ; but the older towns are more 
substantial and interesting. Lexington, Moberly and Mexico are flourishing 
communities in the midst of fertile regions. St. Joseph is perhaps the most 
attractive, as it is the largest, in North-western Missouri. In aspect it is a New 
England town, and is built on hills along the Missouri river — hills which slope 
gently away until they reach rich prairies extending over thousands of acres. 
The sum total of its wholesale and retail trade averages $25,000,000 annually. 
It has costly hotels, theatres, churches, residences, a mammoth bridge across the 
great river, — and 25,000 inhabitants. From St. Joseph a railroad stretches 
across the State to Hannibal, another thriving city. 

But this is digression. These cities properly belong to the North-west, 
whose spirit they manifest, and whose manners and energy they represent. St. 
Louis and the country tributary to it, however, are Southern in interest, and 
must so remain. St. Louis will become one of the greatest clearing-houses of 
the South. Its interests are allied with those of Texas, Arkansas, the Indian 
Territory, and the Mississippi valley. Its rolling-mills must make rails with 
which to lay Southern railroads, and its capital must build mills in which to 
manufacture Southern cotton. 

* In 1870 Missouri produced nearly 4,000,000 pounds of wool; more than 1,000,000 pounds 
of honey; sorghum to the amount of 1,731,000 gallons, and 1,000,000 gallons of wine. 

t There are at present more than 150,000' farms in Missouri, and there is ample room for five 
times as many more. 



■ sr 


Alonj^ the Atlantic and I'acific railway line must come a trade which will 
build St. Louis marvclously fast. Pierce City, Joplin, and dozens of other small 
towns, will become wealthy and important. Springfield, now pioneering in 
cotton manufacture, will be a great spindle centre, like Lowell or Lawrence. 

St. Charles, the little town nestled at the junction of the Missouri and Mis- 
sissippi rivers, looks charmingly picturesque seen from the high bridge over the 
Missouri. The houses are nearly all German in architecture, and their low, 
broad, sloping roofs are huddlecl into artistic groups. A few steamers lie at the 
levee, others drift lazily along the broad, sheeny tide, between the rich green 
banks. The prctt)- town is really older than St. Louis, for as " Village des 
Cotes" it was settled two years before Laclede visited the site of St. Louis, and 
was once the seat of the State government, before the legislators betook them- 
selves to the rather prosaic Jefferson City. 

Sainte Genevieve is another romantic old town, and a few venerable French- 
men, lingering on the edge of these moving times, give many stories of the good 
old days when the trappers and voyageiirs made it a rendezvous, and the people 
of St. Louis came there to buy provisions. They cannot comprehend the grand 
movement which has made St. Louis a metropolis, and left their village to its 
primitive quiet. They see hundreds of steamers and barges slip down the broad 
current, and it seems to them all a dream. 

There are many pretty, and some prosperous towns along the Mississippi, on 
the Missouri shore, between St. Louis and the section opposite the Ohio's mouth. 
St. Mary's, Wittenberg, Cape Girardeau, are thriving settlements, indicating a 
vigorous growth in the back-country, whence come rough farmers, mounted on 

tough horses, to see the 
boats come in, to get the 
mails, and, mayhap, a little 

Southward of Cape Gi- 
rardeau begins the " Great 
Swamp," — a magnificent 
wilderness, extending to 
the mouth of the St, 
Francis river, a region 
picturesque enough in its 
wildness and desolation as 
I saw it, when the giant 
stream had overflowed all 
the lowlands, and left noth- 

Ihc Mibsoun C.ipitol, at Jctferson City ingvlsiblc but a lialf-Sub- 

merged forest. Cape Girardeau lies on a solid bed of marble, and is called the 
Marble City. New Madrid, a small and unimposing town in the south-eastern 
portion of the State, and on the river, was the scene of the colossal earthquake 
in 1 8 1 1 , when the whole land was moved . and swayed like the ocean, and the 
tallest oaks bent like reeds. 



There are but four States in the Union which out-rank Missouri in the 
amount of manufacturing done within their Hmits. Those States are New York, 
Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Ohio. It is true that Missouri and lUinois 
are so closely abreast that the supremacy is keenly disputed. The rate per 
cent, of increase in Missouri has, however, been 394 since the war, while that in 
Illinois has been but 257. 

There is an earnestness in the manner in which the Missourian declares his 
determination to place his State at the head of all others, which almost convinces 
one that he will do it. The cash value of the farm lands in the State is fully four 
hundred million dollars, and is steadily increasing. In 1872 the State produced 
almost one hundred million bushels of corn, nearly eight million bushels of wheat, 
and seventeen million bushels of oats. So uniting agriculture and the rapid 
development of manufactures, Missouri has a wonderful future before her. 

"The Cheery Minstrel." fPage 256.J 

St. Louis certainly has considerably more than four hundred thousand inhab- 
itants ; the citizens claim 450,000, and, indeed, it is not improbable, judging from 
the rapidity with which the currents of immigration pour into it and through 
it. The people of Missouri have wisely left their capital in a small town, 
never entrusting it to the influences of a large metropolis, and at Jefferson City a 
legislature assembles, which is usually, though not always, up to the level of the 
State's progress. Jefferson City itself is a prosperous town of seven thousand 
inhabitants, situated on the south bank of the Missouri river, 125 miles west 
of St. Louis. It has been the capital since 1828, the seat of government 
having previously been rather peripatetic, making visits to St. Louis, St. Charles, 
and Marion. 



The State-House occupies a bluff overhanging the river; the handsome resi- 
dence of the governor, a crowded penitentiary, the Lincoln Institute, and the 
Court- House are the other public buildings. There is abundant and admirable 
limestone in the vicinity, and this alone, so well adapted to the construction of 
serviceable public buildings, may induce the Missourians to locate the capital 
permanently at "Jefferson." The Democrats have been for some time in power, 
and have distinguished themselves rather by a lack of progressive legislation than 
by any tendency to undo the advance already made. 

The State withheld itself from the cause of secession, and the memorable 
phrase of Governor Stewart, in his valedictory in 1861, shows the independence 
and good sense of the masses in the commonwealth: "Missouri will hold to the 
Union so long as it is worth the effort to preserve it. She cannot be frightened 
by the past unfriendly legislation of the North, nor dragooned into secession by 
the restrictive legislation of the extreme South." To-day the best spirit prevails; 
old enemies work in the upbuilding side by side, and the animosities of the 
past are buried under the impressive and fascinating opportunities of the 

The cheery minstrel, whose portrait our artist has given, makes music on 
the cars between St. Louis and the State capital. He is one of the celebrities 
of Missouri, known to thousands of the traveling public, and when the Legisla- 
ture is in session, and the tide of travel is strong, coins many an honest penny, 
the fruit of much manipulation of harmonicon and triangle. 



" O, starboard side!" 

" Oo-le-oo-le-oo !" 

" Nuddcr one down dar !" 

THE roustabouts were loading sacks of corn from one of the immense 
elevators at East St. Louis into the recesses of that mammoth steam- 
boat, the " Great Republic," and singing at theit* toil. Very lustily had they 
worked, these grimy and uncouth men and boys, clad in soiled and ragged 
garments, from early morning, and it was full midnight as we stood listening to 
their song. In their voices, and in the characteristic wail with which each refrain 
ended, there was a kind of grim passion, not unmixed with religious fervor. 
The singers' tones seemed to sink into a lament, as if in despair at faulty expres- 

The Steamer "Great Republic," a Mississippi River Boat. 

sion. But the music kept them steadily at their work, — tugging at the coarse, 
heavy sacks, while the rain poured down in torrents. The "torch-baskets" sent 
forth their cheery light and crackle, and the heat-lightning, so terrible in Mis- 
souri, now and then disclosed to those of us still awake the slumbering city, with 



"Down the steep banks 
would come 1 a'e doscopic 
processi jns of negroes and 
flour barrels." [Page 259.] 

its myriad lights, and its sloping hills packed with dark, smokc-discolorcd 
houses, beyond the river. 

Toward morning, the great steamer turned swiftly round, the very spray from 
the boiling water seeming crowded with oaths, as the officers drove the negroes 
to their several tasks; and the '* Great Republic" glided slowly, and with scarcely 
a perceptible motion, down the stream. The blinking lights of the ferries behind 
us faded into distance. We passed tug-boats fuming and growling like monsters, 
drawing after them 
mysterious trains of 
barges; and finally 
entered upon the 
solitude ■which one 
finds so impressive 
upon the Mississippi. 

A journey of 
1,200 miles by water 
was before us. We 
were sailing from 
the treacherous, 
transition weather 
of Missourian March 
to meet loveliest 
summer robed in 
green, and garlanded v/ith fairest 
blooms. The thought was inspiring. 
Eight days of this restful sailing on the 
gendy- throbbing current, and Ave 
should see the lowlands, the Cherdkee 
rose, the jessamine, the orange-tree. Wakeful and 
pacing the deck, across which blew a chill breeze, 
with my Ulster close about me, I pondered upon 
my journey and the journey's end. 

The "Great Republic" is the largest steamer on 
the Mississippi river, — literally a floating palace. 
The luxuriantly furnished cabin is almost as long and 
quite as ample as the promenade hall in the Hom- 
bourg Kursaal, and has accommodations for 200 
guests. Standing on the upper deck or in the pilot- 
house, one fancies the graceful structure to be at rest, even when going at full 
speed. This is the very luxury of travel. An army of servants come and go. 
As in an ocean voyage, breakfast, dinner and tea succeed each other so quickly 
that one regrets the rapid flight of the hours. In the evening there is the 
blaze of the chandeliers, the opened piano, a colored band grouped around it and 
playing tasteful music while the youths and maidens dance. If the weather 
is warm, there are trips about the moonlit Avilderness of decks — and flirtations. 





The two-score negro " roustabouts " on the boat were sources of infinite 
amusement to the passengers. At the small landings the " Great Republic " 
would lower her gang-planks, and down the steep banks would come kaleido- 
scopic processions of negroes and flour barrels. The pilots, perched in their cosy- 
cage, twisted the wheel, and told us strange stories. Romantic enough were 
their accounts of the adventures of steamers in war time, — how they ran the 
gauntlet here, and were seized there ; and how, now and then. Confederate 
shells came crashing uncomfortably near the pilots themselves. .The pilots on 
the Western rivers have an association, with head-quarters at St. Louis, and 
branches at Louisville, Pittsburg, and Cincinnati. Each of the seventy-four 
members, on his trip, makes a report of changes in the channel, or obstructions, 
which is forwarded from point to point to all the others. They are men of great 
energy, of quaint, dry humor, and fond of spinning yarns. The genial " Mark 
Twain" served his apprenticeship as pilot, and one of his old companions and 
tutors, now on the " Great Republic," gave us reminiscences of the humorist 
One sees, on a journey down the Mississippi, where Mark found many of his 
queerest and seemingly impossible types. 

Our first night on the river was so extremely dark that the captain made fast 
to a shelving bank, and the " Great Republic " laid by till early dawn. Then 

The Levee at Cairo, Illinois. 

we sailed down past the fertile bottom lands of Missouri and Illinois, past Grand 
Tower, with its furnaces and crowded villages, past the great cypress swamps 
and the wooded lands, until we came to Cairo, in Illinois, at the junction of the 
Ohio and Mississippi. One broad lake spread a placid sheet above the flat 



country nt the Ohio's mouth. The "Great F.astcrn" might have swunj^ round 
in front of tlic Illinois Central tracks at Cairo. Stopping but to load more bags 
of corn and hogsheads of bacon, with hundreds of clamorous fowls, we turned, 
and once more entered the giant river, which was then beginning to show a 
determination to overflow all proper bounds, and invade the lands upon its banks. 

An Inundated Town on the Mississippi's Bank. 

When the rains have swollen its tributary rivers to more than their ordinary 
volume, the Mississippi is grand, terrible, treacherous. Always subtle and 
serpent-like in its mode of stealing upon its prey, it swallows up acres at one fell 
swoop ; on one side sweeping them away from their frail hold on the main land, 
while, on the other, it covers plantations with slime, and broken tree trunks and 
boughs, forcing the frightened inhabitants into the second story of their cabins, 
and driving the cattle and swine upon high knolls to starve, or perhaps finally to 
drown. It pierces the puny levees which have cost the States bordering upon it 
such immense sums, and goes bubbling and roaring through the crevasses, dis- 
tracting the planters, and sending dismay to millions of people in a single night. 
It promises a fall on one day ; on another it rises so suddenly that the adventur- 
ous woodmen along the border have scarcely time to flee. It makes a lake of 
the fertile country between the two great rivers ; it carries off hundreds of wood- 
piles, which lonely and patient labor has heaped, in the hope that a passing 
steamer will buy them up, and thus reward a season's work. Out of each small 
town on its western bank set too carelessly by the water's edge, it makes a pigmy 
Venice, or floats it off altogether. As the huge steamer glided along on the 
mighty current, we could see families perched in the second stories of their houses, 
gazing grimly out upon the approaching ruin. At one point a man was sculling 
from house to barn-yard with food for his stock. The log barn was a dreary 
pile in the midst of the flood. The swine and cows stood shivering on a pine 
knoll, disconsolately burrowing and browsing. Hailed' by some flustered pater- 
familias or plantation master bound to the nearest town for supplies, we took him 
to his destination. As we got below the Arkansas and White rivers, the gigantic 
volume of water had so far overrun its natural boundaries that we seemed at sea, 
instead of upon an inland river. The cottonwoods and cypresses stood up amid 



the water wilderness like ghosts. Gazing into the long avenues of the sombre 
forests, we could see only the same level, all-enveloping flood. In the open 
country the cabins seemed ready to sail away, though their masters were usually 
smoking with much equanimity, and awaiting a "fall." 

While we are gossiping of the river, let us consider its peculiarities and the 
danger of its inundations more fully. Bclovv^ the mouth of the Missouri, the 
great river takes a wholly different appearance and character from those of the 
lovely stream which stretches from Lake Pepin down ; and some of the old pilots 
say that section of it below St. Louis should have been called the "Missouri" 
rather than the Mississippi. The Missouri, they claim, gives to the Father of 
Waters most of the characteristics which dominate it until it has been reinforced 

The Pilot-House of the "Great Republic." [Page 259] 

by the Ohio, the Arkansas, the White and the Red. The river is forever making 
land on one side, and tearing it away on the other, the bends in its course not 
permitting the current to wash both banks with equal force. The farmer on the 
alluvial bottoms sees with dismay his corn-field diminish year by year, acres slip- 
ping into the dark current ; yet the ease with which corn, cotton and sugar are 
raised in their respective localities along its banks is such that they willingly run 
the risk. The pilots complain bitterly of the constant changes in the channel, 
which it requires the eyes of Argus almost to detect. They say that the current 
might be made to bear more upon the rocky shores, thus avoiding disastrous 
losses of land and many " crevasses," as the gaps made in the levees by the 



encroaching water arc called. The stream is so crooked that a twenty miles 
sail by water is sometimes necessary where the distance across the promontory, 
round which the steamer must 140, is not more than a mile. Sometimes the 
current, tired of the detour, itself brushes away the promontory, and the 
astonished pilots see a totally new course opened before them. 

The occasional inundations of the alluvial lands are so little understood, and 
the general course of the Mississippi is comprehended by so few, that a little idea 
of its progress downward to the Delta country may prove interesting. 

At the junction of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers properly begins what is 
known as the Lower Mississippi, although the name is not usually applied to the 
stream until it has crossed the grand " rocky chain" or bed extending across its 
channel between St. Louis and Cairo. All below this "chain," in the Mississippi 
valley, is alluvium, through which the river meanders from one bluff to another 
— the bluffs being from forty to one hundred miles apart. Touching these bluffs 
at Commerce, Missouri, on the west bank, it courses across the valley, passing 
the vast prairies of Lower Illinois, known as "Egypt," on the east, meets the 
Ohio at Cairo, then strikes the bluffs again at Columbus, on the eastern or 
Kentucky shore. It skirts these bluffs as far as Memphis, having on its west the 
broad earthquake lands of Missouri and Arkansas. It then once more crosses its 
valley to meet the waters of the White and Arkansas rivers, and skirts the bluffs 
at Helena in Arkansas, flanking and hemming in the St Francis with her 
swamps and "sunk lands." Reinforced by the White and Arkansas, it again 
crosses its valley to meet the Yazoo near Vicksburg, creating the immense 
Yazoo reservoir on the cast bank, extending from the vicinity of Memphis to 
Vicksburg, and the valleys and swamps of the Macon and Tensas, on the west 
side. These latter have no terminus save the Gulf of Mexico, as the river does 
not approach the western bluffs after leaving Helena. From Vicksburg to Baton 
Rouge the river hugs the eastern bluffs, and from Baton Rouge to the mouth is 

the pure " delta country," for a dis- 
tance of more than 200 miles. 

All of this valley below the rocky 
chain crossing the river channel lies 
lower than the high water line of 
this powerful current, and the efforts 
of men to stay an inundation seem 
very puerile. The valley is divided 
into several natural districts, one em- 
bracing the lands from the chain to 
the vicinity of Helena, where the St. 
Francis debouches; another from 
Helena nearly to Vicksburg on the 
east bank, for the Yazoo valley ; a 
third comprises the country from the Arkansas to the Red river, known as the 
Macon and Tensas valley ; a fourth runs from the Red river to the Gulf, on 
the west side ; and a fifth from Baton Rouge to the Gulf on the east side. 

A Crevasse in the Missisbippi River s Banks 


Some of these districts have been imperfectly leveed; others have never been 
protected at all, and the general opinion is that when high water does come the 
fact that there are a few levees increases the danger of a complete inundation, as 
the stream, finding itself restrained, breaks the barriers which attempt to control 
its current. Under the slave system, the planters on the lowlands were able to 
guard against ruin by water by elaborate preparation and vigilance, which they 
cannot summon now; and it is believed that nothing but the execution of a 
grand national work by the General Government will ever secure to the delta 
that immunity from ruin so desirable for people already savagely stripped by war 
and political knavery. 

Yet the inundations do not come with alarming frequency. In 1867 the 
lowlands were overflowed and distress ensued; and in this year, 1874, the 
confusion, distress, and trepidation have been terrible to witness. Starvation has 
stood at thousands of doors, and only the hands of the Government and charity 
have saved hundreds from miserable deaths. Below Memphis, and in a wide belt 
of country round about, along the bottom lands in the State of Mississippi, and 
throughout the Louisiana lowlands, there has been immense damage. In an hour 
the planter is doomed to see a thousand acres, which have been carefully pre- 
pared for planting cotton, covered with water two or three feet deep. The 
country round about becomes a swamp — the roads are rivers, the lakes are seas. 

As the Mississippi valley, south and north, will in future be one of the most 
populous sections of the American Union, and as the great network of rivers 
which penetrate to the Rocky Mountains, and the mighty cailohs of the Mau~ 
vaises Terres are so well adapted for commercial highways ; as a score of States 
and Territories border on the Mississippi alone, why should not the National 
Government at once undertake the control and care of the stream and its tribu- 
taries ? 





PASSING Columbus and Hickman, — two thriving towns on the Kentucky 
shore, — and the ruins of the fortifications on " Island Number Ten," an 
island rapidly sinking in Mississippi's insidious embrace, past Fort Pillow, 
now rounding bends which took us miles out of our way, and now venturing 
through " cut-offs," made by the sudden action of the resistless flood, we skirted 
along the vast desolate Arkansas shore, reached the third Chickasaw bluff on 
the Tennessee side, and saw before us the city of Memphis. 

Memphis is the chief city of Western Tennessee, and, indeed, of the whole 
State. It has been well and widely known ever since the five thousand acre 

tract on the fourth Chickasaw bluff, on 
which the town now stands, came into 
the possession of Judge Overton, 
Major Winchester, and General An- 
drew Jackson, the original proprietors. 
From the river, Memphis presents 
quite an imposing appearance, stately 
piles of buildings running along the 
bluff, at whose foot stretches a levee, 
similar to those of all the other river 
towns. Opposite to it, on the west 
bank of the Mississippi, is the level 
line of the Arkansas bottom, whose 
lowlands are often- submerged; and 
from a ferry station at Hopefield a 
railroad leads to Little Rock, the 
Arkansas capital. The streets of 
Memphis are broad, regular, and lined 
with handsome buildings; there is but 
one drawback to their perfection, and 
that is a wooden pavement, so 
badly put down, and so poorly cared 
for, that a ride over it in an omnibus 
is almost unendurable. In the centre of the town is an exquisite little park, 
filled with delicate foliage, where a bust of Andrew Jackson frowns upon 
the tame squirrels frisking around it, or climbing on the visitor's shoulders 

View in the City Park at Memphis, Tennessee. 


and exploring his pockets for chestnuts. Since the terrible visitation of 
yellow fever in 1873, the City Government has made most extraordinary 
efforts to secure perfect drainage and cleanliness in the streets ; and Memphis 
certainly compares favorably in this respect with any of its riparian sisters. 
Northern or Southern. On the avenues leading from the river toward the 
open country there are many lovely residences surrounded by cool and 
inviting lawns ; the churches and school buildings are handsome and numerous, 
and there is an air of activity and thrift which I was not prepared to find 
manifested after the severe experiences through which the city has passed. 
Several good newspapers — the Avalanche, the Appeal, the Ledger, and the 
Register, do much to enliven Memphis and the highly prosperous county of 
Shelby, in which it stands ; and the carnival in winter, and the cotton trade until 
midsummer, make excitement the rule. Those who fancied Memphis " dead " 
after the yellow fever's ghastly visitation are wrong ; the number of business 
houses in the city has increased ten per cent, since that terrible event, the 
number of physicians, curious to note, decreasing in exactly the same pro- 
portion. The wholesale trade has been growing enormously, and the influx 
of population has been so very considerable, that Memphis claims to-day about 
65,000 inhabitants. Great injustice has been done the city in former times by 
the false statement extensively published that, after Valparaiso and Prague, 
Memphis had the highest death-rate in the world. . The cemetery on the Chick- 
asaw bluff, besides receiving the dead of the city itself, serves as the burial place 
for the dead of all the migratory multitudes who toil up and down the currents 
of the half-dozen giant streams which bring trade and people to Memphis. 
It is quite probable, whatever appearances may indicate, that the death- 
rate of Memphis is no higher than that of any city in the central valley of the 
Mississippi. The city itself occupies a tract of three square miles. Opposite it 
is the centre of a district, one hundred miles square, east of the ' White and 
St. Francis rivers and west of the Mississippi, which has been for ages enriched 
by the alluvial deposits brought down by the mighty river. It is said that in this 
area there are 5,000,000 acres, each one of which is capable of producing annually 
a bale of cotton. This plain, says a local writer, " was the rich granary of the 
city of the mound-builders, once occupying, as suggested by the great mounds 
on the city's southern confines, the heights on which Memphis stands." North 
of the city lies the famous Big Creek section, the home of many opulent cotton- 
planters before the war, but now but little cultivated, and with many of its fine 
lands deserted. 

Memphis is very near the centre of the cotton belt, and has an enormous sup- 
ply trade with Arkansas, Mississippi, Western Tennessee, and Northern Alabama. 
The export trade of inland ports like Memphis, Macon, and Augusta has become 
so great that the railroads have accorded them very low rates. Much of the 
cotton once sent to New Orleans is now shipped directly across the country to 
Norfolk. The railroad system of Memphis is already very important — as 
follows: The Memphis and Charleston road extends to Stevenson in North Ala- 
bama, and connects with routes to Norfolk and the sea, as well as with those 


running northward. It is at present under a lease to the Southern Railway Secur- 
ity Company, but it is expected that the control of the line will in time return to 
the stockholders. Next in importance is the Louisville and Nashville and Great 
Southern railroad, sometimes called the Memphis and Ohio. This line extends 
to Paris, Tennessee, connecting thence to Louisville, Kentucky, and with the 
Memphis and Clarkville and Louisville and Nashville roads. The Mississippi 
and Tennessee road extends from Memphis to Grenada, a smart town in the 
former State, and runs through an excellent cotton -raising, although thinly 
settled country, for one hundred miles, connecting by the Mississippi Central 
with New Orleans. The road to Little Rock gives connection with the network 
in which Texas is tangled ; and the Memphis and Paducah, only partially 
completed, will give almost an air -line to Chicago. The Memphis and Selma 
road is also begun. But the project considered of most importance by the 
citizens of Memphis is the contemplated road from Kansas City to Memphis, 
which would render the latter independent of and in direct competition with 
St. Louis. 

The cotton trade of Memphis represents from $35,000,000 to $40,000,000, 
annually. Its growth has been extraordinary. In 1860-61 Memphis received 
nearly 400,000 bales. She then had also an extensive tobacco trade, which the 
war took from her, and which has never been returned. After the war, produc- 
tion was so crippled that there was but a gradual return to the old figures in the 
cotton trade, as shown by the appended table : 

Year. Bales. Year. Bales. 

1867-68 254,240 

1868-69 . . 247,698 

1869-70 247,654 

1870-71 511,432 

1871-72 380.934 

1872-73 414,955 

1873-74 up to April 398,637 

The cotton received at Memphis comes mainly from Western Tennessee, 
Northern and Central Alabama, the same sections of Mississippi, and Arkansas, as 
far south as Chicot. The south-eastern portion of Missouri also furnishes some 
cotton to Memphis. The market is made up of buyers from New England 
and the Northern spinning element generally, and from Liverpool, Manchester, 
and the continental ports. Nearly one-third of the receipts, it is said, are now 
taken by foreign shippers. Of course most of those purchases go to Europe 
via Norfolk, New York, or Boston, but one German buyer this season shipped 
forty thousand bales via New Orleans and the Gulf The character of the cotton 
is such as to make it specially sought after by all classes of spinners. As a cotton- 
port Memphis is independent of New Orleans, and this independence has been 
recently achieved. Of the entire crop brought into Memphis in 1860-61 there 
were 184,366 bales sent to the Louisiana metropolis: whereas in 1872-73 scarcely 
25,000 bales were sent there for market. The prices are so nearly up to those 
of New Orleans as not to leave a margin. The Louisville and Nashville road 
takes a great deal of cotton northward, and the various packet lines to St. Louis, to 
Cairo, to Cincinnati, Evansville, and Cannelton, carry many hundreds of bales. 


There arc so many lines that Memphis is never blockaded. As a single item of 
commerce, that of cotton is enormous, amounting, at an average estimate, to 
something like $28,000,000. It is calculated that the whole commerce of Mem- 
phis foots up $62,000,000 yearly. Thousands on thousands of barrels of flour, 
pork, bales of hay, sacks of oats, barrels of corn-meal, are brought in on the 
Mississippi river and thence dispersed. Besides handling one-eighth of the 
entire cotton crop of the United States, Memphis has thus far kept in food 
as well as in courage a very large portion of the half-discouraged planters of 
the South ; her merchants having made great efforts to accommodate them- 
selves to the new order of things. So changed are all the conditions under 
which planters labor, and so evident is it that the character of planting or 
farming must change a good deal, that the merchants themselves are beginning 
to doubt the real beneficence of the supply system. 

Memphis now has a prosperous Cotton Exchange, and has had an excellent 
Chamber of* Commerce for many years. Shelby county is rich. Its people were 
wont to grumble about taxes, but have at last become wiser, and it was even 
expected, at the date of my visit, that the Mayor, a Republican, would succeed 
in collecting $700,000 of "back taxes." Party lines are not especially regarded 
in city politics, there being a general happy determination to take the best man. 
The negroes have great numbers of societies, masonic, benevolent, and strictly 
religious; and one often sees in a dusky procession, neatly clad, the "Sons" or 
" Daughters of Zion," or the " Independent Pole Bearers," or the " Sons of 
Ham," or the " Social Benevolent Society." 

Memphis has a banking capital of $2,000,000, which for six months of the 
year is ample, but during the cotton season is by no means enough. Her 
schools are excellent, both for white and black, and there is a State Female 
College in the neighborhood. There are numerous excellent Catholic schools, 
to which, as elsewhere in the South, those Protestant parents who do not yet 
look with favor on the free system send their children. For about a year 
the number of pupils in the public schools has been increasing at the rate 
of two hundred monthly. One-fourth of the children in the free schools are 
colored, and one of the school-houses for the blacks contains seven hundred 

In the busy season there are seven steamers a week from St. Louis to Mem- 
phis, and there are three which extend their trips to Vicksburg — a voyage of 
nine hundred mJles. The Memphis and St. Louis Packet Company brings down 
about one hundred and fifty thousand tons of freight yearly, and carries up 
stream perhaps forty thousand bales of cotton in the same period. The gigantic 
elevator at Memphis, built on the sloping bluff so that next the water it is of the 
height of an ordinary three-story house, showed only its top floor, so high ran 
the Mississippi, at the time of my visit. From Memphis, steamboats run up the 
Arkansas and the White rivers, threading their way to the interior of Arkansas. 
There is a line to Napoleon, Arkansas, two hundred miles below; one to the 
plantations on the St. Francis river, and one direct to Cincinnati. The lack 
of confidence between merchant and planter sometimes causes a diminution 



in amount of supplies forwarded ; but the dull seasons are brief* The man- 
ufactures of Memphis are not numerous; there are some oil- mills, a few 
foundries, and steam saw -mills for cuttinj^ up the superb cypresses from the 
brakes in the western district of Arkansas. 

The yellow fever came to Memphis in 1855 ^"^1 again in 1867, each time 
having been brought by steamer from below. In 1867 it was quite severe in its 
ravages, but was confined to the section of the city where it first appeared. In 
August of 1873 it came again, and nothing stayed its course. Two boats arrived 
during the month of August, the " George C. Wolf," from Shreveport, and the 
tow-boat "Bee," from New Orleans, each with a sick man on board. These men 

The Carnival at Memphis, Tennessee — "The gorgeous pageants of the mysterious MemphL" [Page 269.} 

were put off at the upper levee, where there is a coal-fleet, and in front of what is 
known as " Happy Hollow," not far from the remains of the Government navy- 
yard which Memphis once boasted. It is a low, marshy place, which the genius 
of Dickens would have delighted to picture, filled with shanties and flat-boats, 
with old hulks drifted up during high water and then adopted by wretched 'long 

* The writer desires to express his obligations to Mr. J. S. Toof, Secretary Memphis Cotton 
Exchange, and to Messrs. Brower and Thompson of the Avalanche, for many interesting facts 
concerning the city's growth. 


shoremen as their habitations. One of the two men died before he could be 
taken to hospital ; the other shortly after reaching it, and the physicians hinted 
that they thought the disease the yellow fever. For three weeks it was kept in 
"Happy Hollow," then it moved northward through the navy-yard, and suddenly 
several deaths on Promenade street, one of the principal avenues, were announced. 

The authorities then went at their work, but it was too late, except to cleanse 
and disinfect the city. The deaths grew daily more numerous ; funerals blocked 
the way; the stampede began. Tens of thousands of people fled; other thousands, 
not daring to sleep in the plague-smitten town, left Memphis nightly, to return in 
the day. From September until November hardly ten thousand people slept in 
town over night. The streets were almost deserted save by the funeral trains. 
Heroism of the noblest kind was freely shown. Catholic and Protestant clergy- 
men and physicians ran untold risks, and men and women freely laid down their 
lives in charitable service. Twenty- five hundred persons died in the period 
between August and November. The thriving city had become a charnel house. 
But one day there came a frost, and though suffering too severely to be wild in 
their rejoicings, the people knew that the plague itself was doomed. They assem- 
bled and adopted an effective sanitary code, appointed a fine board of health, and 
cleansed the town. Memphis to-day is in far less danger of a repetition of the 
dreadful scenes of last year than are Vicksburg or New Orleans or half-a- 
dozen other Southern cities. Half-a-million dollars contributed by other States 
were expended in the burial of the dead and the needed medical attendance 
during the reign of the plague. 

This terrible visitation did not, however, prevent Memphis from holding her 
annual carnival, and repeating, in the streets so lately filled with funerals, the 
gorgeous pageants of the mysterious Memphi — such as the Egyptians gazed 
on two thousand years before Christ was born, — the pretty theatres being 
filled with glitter of costumes and the echoes of delicious music. The carnival 
is now so firmly rooted in the affections of the citizens of Memphis that 
nothing can unsettle it. 



AT Memphis I heard much concerning the miseries and revelations of both 
capitaHsts and laborers in the cotton country. It is easy to see that the 
old planters are in trouble under the new order of things. They are not 
willing to become farmers. " These people will never," said to me a gentleman 
familiar with the whole cotton-planting interest, " grow their own supplies until 
they are compelled to." They choose to depend upon the West for the 
coarse food supplied to negro laborers, and seem totally unconscious of the fact 
that they can never secure white immigration, so much desired, until they raise 
the status of the laboring man. White labor has proved a failure in a great 
many sections of the South, because the laborers who come to make trial are 
not properly met They are offered strong inducements — can purchase good 
lands on almost unlimited credit, and are kindly received — but they find all 
the conditions of labor so repulsive that they become disheartened; and give 
up the experiment. The negro along the Mississippi works better than ever 
before since freedom came to him, because he is obliged to toil or starve, and 
because, being the main stay of the planters, they accord to him very favorable 
conditions. Self-interest is teaching the planters a good deal, and in the 
cotton-growing regions of Northern Alabama and Mississippi, as well as gen- 
erally throughout the older cotton States, a diversity of crops will in time force 
itself upon them as a measure of protection. 

It is noticed that cotton culture is gradually moving from the Atlantic sea- 
board to newer and more productive lands. The States west of the Mississippi, 
and bordering on that stream, are receiving immense colonies of negroes fleeing 
from the temporarily exhausted sections of Alabama, and the lands which they 
have left will soon come under the influence of fertilizers, and corn and rice and 
wheat will be raised. In consequence of the gradual change in the location of 
the planting interest, buyers from the North in such markets as Memphis hear 
from time to time that less cotton is planted than heretofore, and are led to figure 
on higher prices; but they find that new lands are constantly opened up, and that 
the yield on them is surprising. It is the belief of many acute observers living at 
important points along the Mississippi river that the ultimate home of the black 
man is to be west of that stream, on the rich bottom lands where the white man 
has never been known to labor, and where it would be perilous to his health 


to settle. In the fall and winter of each year the migration to Arkansas and 
Louisiana is alarming to the white planters left behind. In Western Tennessee 
the exodus has not been severely felt as yet, but it will doubtless come. The 
two hundred thousand negroes in that rich and flourishing region are reasonably 
content. They do not, in the various counties, enter so much into politics as 
they did immediately after the war. They show there, as, indeed, almost every- 
where in the Mississippi valley, a tendency to get into communities by them- 
selves, and seem to have no desire to force their way into the company of the 
white man. 

There must, and will be, a radical change in the conduct of the rising gen- 
eration of planters. The younger men are, I think, convinced that it is a mistake 
to depend on Western and Northern markets for the articles of daily consump- 
tion, and for nearly everything which goes to make life tolerable. But the elders, 
grounded by a lifetime of habit in the methods which served them well under 
a slave regime, but which are ruinous now-a-days, will never change their course. 
They will continue to bewail the unfortunate fate to which they think themselves 
condemned — or will rest in the assurance that they can do very well in the 
present chaotic condition of things, provided Providence does not allow their 
crops to fail. They cannot be brought to see that their only safety lies in 
making cotton their surplus crop ; that they must absolutely dig their sus- 
tenance, as well as their riches, out of the ground. 

Before the war, a planter who owned a plantation of two thousand acres, 
and two hundred negroes upon it, would, when he came to make his January 
settlement with his merchant in town, invest whatever there was to his credit 
in more land and more negroes. Now the more land he buys the worse he is 
off, because he finds it very hard to get it worked up to the old standard, and 
unless he does, he can ill afford to buy supplies from the outer world at the 
heavy prices charged for them — or if he can do that, he can accomplish little 
else. As most of his capital was taken from him by the series of events which 
liberated his slaves, he has been compelled, since the war, to undertake his 
planting operations on borrowed capital, or, in other words, has rehed on a 
merchant or middle-man to furnish food and clothing for his laborers, and 
all the means necessary to get his crop, baled and weighed, to the market. 
The failure of his crop would, of course, cover him with liabilities ; but such has 
been his fatal persistence in this false system that he has been able to struggle 
through, as in Alabama, three successive crop failures. 

The merchant, somewhat reconciled to the anomalous condition of affairs 
by the large profits he can make on coarse goods brought long distances, has 
himself pushed endurance and courage to an extreme point, and when he dare 
give credit no longer, hosts of planters are often placed in the most painful and 
embarrassing positions. So they gather up the wrecks of their fortunes, pack 
their Lares and Penates in an emigrant wagon or car, and doggedly work their 
way to Texas. 

The appalling failure of crops in certain sections has not, however, lessened 
the cotton production of the region supplied from Memphis. In the aggregate 


it is greater than ever before, and 1 was iiifonned tliat its increase would be even 
more than it is if so many planters did not " overcrop " — that is, plant more 
than they can cultivate. Those who plant a little land, and care for it thoroughly, 
usually make some money, even although they depend upon far-off markets for 
their sustenance, and are completely at the mercy of the merchants. It is 
believed that the crop failures will induce planters, in the sections which have 
suffered, to make an effort to grow their own supplies, and until that effort has 
been successful, there can be no real prosperity among them. Even when for- 
tune smiles, and they make a good crop, but little is left after a settlement with 
the merchant. Life is somewhat barren and unattractive to the man who, after 
a laborious season spent in cultivating one staple, finds that, after all, he has only 
made a living out of it. He has done nothing to make his surroundings agree- 
able and comfortable ; his buildings are unsightly and rickety, and there are very 
few stores in his cellar, if indeed he has any cellar at all. 

The region which finds its market and gets its supplies in Memphis, Vicks- 
burg, and Natchez, is probably as fair a sample of the cotton-producing portion 
of the South as any other, and I found in it all the ills and all the advantages 
complained of or claimed elsewhere. Imagine a farming country which depends 
absolutely for its food on the West and North-west ; Avhere every barrel of flour 
Avhich the farmer buys, the bacon which he seems to prefer to the beef and mut- 
ton which he might raise on his own lands, the clothes on his back, the shoes 
on his feet, the very vegetables which the poorest laborer in the Northern agri- 
cultural regions grows in his door-yard — everything, in fact, — has been brought 
hundreds of miles by steamer or by rail, and has passed through the hands of 
the shipper, the carrier, the wharfmen, the reshipj^er (if the planter live in a 
remote section), and the local merchant ! 

Imagine a people possessed of superior facilities, who might live, as the vulgar 
saying has it, on the fat of the land, who are yet so dependent that a worm 
crawling over a few cotton leaves, or the rise of one or two streams, may reduce 
them to misery and indebtedness from which it will take years to recover ! 
Men who consider themselves poorly paid and badly treated in Northern farming 
and manufacturing regions live better and have more than do the overseers of 
huge plantations in this cotton country. If you enter into conversation with 
people who fare thus poorly, they will tell you that, if they raise vegetables, the 
" niggers " will steal them ; that if times were not so hard, and seasons were not 
so disastrous, the supply system would work very well ; that they cannot organ- 
ize their labor so as to secure a basis on which to calculate safely ; and will 
finally end by declaring that the South is ruined forever. 

These are the opinions of the elders mainly. Younger men, who see the 
necessity of change and new organization, believe that they must in future culti- 
vate other crops besides cotton ; that they must do away with supply- merchants, 
and try at least to raise what is needed for sustenance. There are, of course, sec- 
tions where the planter finds it cheapest to obtain his corn and flour from St. 
Louis ; but these are small items. There are a hundred things which he requires, 
and which are grown as well South as North. Until the South has got capital 


enough together to localize manufactures, the same thing must be said of all 
manufactured articles ; but why should a needless expenditure be encouraged by 
the very people whom it injures and endangers ? 

There are many plans of working large plantations now in vogue, and some- 
times the various systems are all in operation on the same tract. The plan of 
" shares " prevails extensively, the planter taking out the expenses of the crop, 
and, when it is sold, dividing the net proceeds with the negroes who have pro- 
duced it. In some cases in the vicinity of Natchez, land is leased to the freed- 
men on condition that they shall pay so many bales of cotton for the use of so 
many acres, furnishing their own supplies. Other planters lease the land in the 
same w^ay, and agree to furnish the supplies also. Still others depend entirely 
upon the wages system, but of course have to furnish supplies at the outset, 
deducting the cost from the wages paid hands after the crop is raised. Sometimes 
the plantation is leased to " squads," as they are called, and the "squad leader" 
negotiates the advances, giving " liens " on the squad's share of the crop and on 
the mules and horses they may own. This plan has worked very well and is 
looked upon favorably. 

Under the slave regime, the negroes working a large plantation were all 
quartered at night in a kind of central group of huts, known as the "quarters;" 
but it has been found an excellent idea to divide up the hundred or five hund- 
red laborers among a number of these little villages, each located on the section 
of the plantation which they have leased. By this process, commonly known as 
"segregation of quarters," many desirable results have been accomplished; the 
negro has been encouraged to devote some attention to his home, and been 
hindered from the vices engendered by excessive crowding. On some plantations 
one may find a dozen squads, each working on a different plan, the planters, 
or land owners, hoping in this way to find out which system will be most advan- 
tageous to themselves and most binding on the negro. 

Clairmont, a plantation of three thousand acres, of which one thousand are 
now cultivated, on the Louisiana side of the Mississippi river, opposite to Natchez, 
is cut up into lots of one hundred acres each, and on each division are ten 
laborers who have leased the land in various ways. It was amusing, by the w^ay, 
to note the calculation that one negro made when negotiating for one of these 
tracts. He was to be allowed one-half, but was vociferous for one-tenth. As ten 
is more than two, he supposed a tenth to be more than a half. On this Clair- 
mont, in i860, the owner raised i,ooo bales of cotton and 8,000 bushels of 
corn; now he raises about 500 bales, and hardly any corn. 

Still, the conduct of the laborers is encouraging. The little villages spring- 
ing up here and there on the broad acres have a tendency to localize the negroes, 
who have heretofore been very much inclined to rove about, and each man is 
allowed to have half an acre of ground for his garden. The supplies spoken 
of as furnished the negroes are of the rudest description — pork, meal and 
molasses — all brought hundreds, nay, thousands of miles, when every one of 
the laborers could, with a little care, grow enough to feed himself and his 



Rut the negro tb.roughout the cotton belt takes httle thought for the mor- 
row. He works lazily, although, in some places, pretty steadily. In others he 
takes a day here and there out of the week in such a manner as to render him 
almost useless. The planter always feels that the negro is irresponsible and 
must be taken care of If he settles on a small tract of land of his own, as so 
many thousand do now-a-days, he becomes almost a cumberer of the ground, 
caring for nothing save to get a living, and raising only a bale of cotton or so 
wherewith to get "supplies." For the rest he can fish and hunt. He does n't 
care to become a scientific farmer. Thrift has no charms for him. He has never 
been educated to care for himself; how should he suddenly leap forth, a new 
man, into the changed order of things ? 

Nevertheless, some of the planters along the river near Natchez said, " Give 
the negro his due. The merchant will ordinarily stand a better chance of collect- 
ing all his advance from fifty small black planters than from fifty whites of the 
same class, when the crop is successful." But if the negro's crop fails, he feels 
very loth to pay up, although he may have the m'eans. He seems to think 
the debt has become outlawed. In success he is generally certain to pay his 
"store account," which is varied, and comprehends a history of his progress 
during the year. 

The shrewd Hebrew, who has entered into the commerce of the South in 
such a manner as almost to preclude Gentile competition, understands the 
freedman very well, and manages him in trade. The negro likes to be treated 
with consideration when he visits the " store," and he finds something refreshing 
and friendly in the, profuse European manner and enthusiastic lingo of Messrs. 
Moses and Abraham. The Hebrew" merchants have large establishments in all 
the planting districts. In Mississippi and in some other sections they have made 
more than lOO per cent, retail profit, and excuse themselves for it by saying 
that as they do not always get their money, they must make up for bad debts. 
They are obliged to watch both white and black planters who procure advances 
from them, to make sure that they produce a crop. If the merchant sees that 
there is likely to be but half a crop, he sometimes notifies the planters that they 
must thereafter draw only half the amount agreed upon at the outset. In short, 
in some sections the Hebrew is the taskmaster, arbiter and guardian of the 
planters' destinies. 

Some of the elder planters are liberal in their ideas, and would welcome a 
complete change in the labor, system, but they do not believe one possible. One 
of the best known and influential in the valley told me that he and his neigh- 
bors in the magnificent Yazoo country, where the superb fertility of the soil gives 
encouragement even to the rudest labors, had tried every expedient to bring new 
labor into their section, but could not succeed. His laborers were now practically 
his tenants; but he had to supply them and to watch over them, very much as he 
did before the war. He was willing to admit that the negro was better adapted 
to the work than any white man who might come there ; but thought the younger 
generation of negroes was growing up idle and shiftless, fond of whiskey and 
carousing, and that the race was diminishing in fibre and strength. Those who 


had been slav^es were industrious, and conducted themselves as well as they knew 
how ; but the others, both men and women, seemed to think that liberty- 
meant license, and acted accordingly. They were wasteful, and there was 
but little chance of making them a frugal and foresighted farming people. 
Whenever they could secure a little money the ground in front of their cabins 
would be strewn with sardine boxes and whiskey bottles. 

The planters in the lowlands of Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana have 
been particularly troubled to get and keep serviceable plantation labor ; and are 
now importing large numbers from Alabama. In truth, the hundreds who flock 
in from the older cotton States were starving at home. On a plantation in Con- 
cordia parish, in Louisiana, opposite Natchez, there are many of these Alabama 
negroes. One planter went into the interior of that State, and engaged a 
hundred and twenty-five to follow him. They did not succeed in leaving 
without meeting with remonstrances from the colored politicians, but were glad 
to flee from an empty cupboard. 

Densely ignorant as these negroes are, they are yet capable of fine develop- 
ment. They have sound sense, and some idea of manners, seem well-inclined 
toward their employers, and appear to appreciate their own defects. On many 
of these plantations on the lowlands the negroes do not vote ; on some they are 
even hired with the distinct understanding that they shall not, unless they wish 
to be discharged. But sooner or later the poHticians reach them, and they 
become political victims. 

I took a ride one morning in this same Concordia parish for the purpose of 
conversing with the planters, and getting testimony as to the actual condition 
of the laborers. Concordia was once the garden spot of Louisiana ; its aspect 
was European ; the fine roads were bordered with delicious hedges of Cherokee 
rose ; grand trees, moss-hung and fantastic in foliage, grew along the green banks 
of a lovely lake ; every few miles a picturesque grouping of coarsely thatched 
roofs marked negro "quarters," and near by gleamed the roof of some planter's 
mansion. In this parish there was no law and but little order — save such as the 
inhabitants chose to maintain. The negroes whom I met on the road were 
nearly all armed, most of them carrying a rifle over their shoulders, or balanced 
on the backs of the mules they were riding. Affrays among the negroes are 
very common throughout that region ; but, unless the provocation has been 
very great, they rarely kill a white man. 

In a trip of perhaps ten miles I passed through several once prosperous 
plantations, and made special inquiries as to their present condition. Upon one 
where six hundred bales of cotton were annually produced under slave culture, 
the average annual yield is now but two hundred and fifty ; on another the 
yearly average had fallen from one thousand to three hundred bales; and on two 
others which together gave the market fifteen hundred bales every year, now 
barely six hundred are raised. The planters in this section thought that cotton 
production had fallen off fully two-thirds. The number of negroes at work on 
each of these plantations was generally much less than before the war. Then a 
bale to the acre was realized, now about one bale to three acres is the average. 


Much of this land is " leased" to the negro at the rate ol a bale of cotton weigh- 
ing four hundred and thirty pounds for each six acres. 

The planters there raise a little corn, but arc mainly supplied from the West. 
The inundation was upon them at the epoch of my visit, and they were in 
momentary expectation of seeing all their year's hopes destroyed. The infamous 
robberies, also, to which they had been subjected by the Legislature, and the 
overwhelming taxation, had left them bitterly discouraged. One plantation 
which I visited, having sixteen hundred acres of cleared land in it, and standing 
in one of the most fertile sections of the State, was originally valued at one 
hundred dollars per acre ; now it could not be sold for ten dollars. Tn Madison 
parish recently a plantation of six hundred improved acres, which originally 
cost thirty thousand dollars, was offered to a neighboring planter for seven 
Juindrcd dollars. 

The " wages " accorded the negro, when he works on the wages system, 
amount to fifteen or sixteen dollars monthly. But few ever save any money; and 
this remark will, I think, apply to the majority of the negroes engaged in agricul- 
ture throughout the cotton region of the Mississippi valley. Still there are 
praiseworthy exceptions to this general rule. Enormous prices are placed upon 
everything, because of the cost of transportation. The grangers have accom- 
plished some good in the cotton States by buying for cash and selling for cash, 
the object being to keep supplies as near the wholesale price as possible, and 
have already become a formidable organization there, having scores of societies, 
small and large, in Alabama, Georgia, Tennessee, and Mississippi. 

While there is no doubt that an active, moneyed, and earnest immigration 
would do much toward building up the southern portion of the Mississippi valley, 
it is evident that so long as the negro remains in his present ignorance, and both 
he and the planter rely on other States for their sustenance, and on Providence 
never to send them rainy days, inundations, or caterpillars, the development of 
the section will be subject to too serious drawbacks to allow of any considerable 
progress. All the expedients, the tenant systems, and years of accidental success 
will not take the place of thorough and diversified culture, and intelligent, con- 
tented labor resulting from fair wages for fair work. Nothing but the education 
of the negro up to the point of ambition, foresight, and a desire to acquire a 
competence lawfully and laboriously, will ever thoroughly develop the Lower 
Mississippi valley. As the negro is certainly to inhabit it for many years at 
least, if not forever, how shall he learn the much-needed lesson ? 

On the other hand, the whites need to be converted to a sense of the dignity 
of labor, to learn to treat the laboring man with proper consideration, to create 
in him an intelligent ambition by giving him education. Something besides an 
introduction to political liberties and responsibilities is needed to make the 
negro a moral and worthy citizen. He is struggling slowly and not very surely 
out of a lax and barbarously immoral condition. The weight of nearly two 
centuries of slavery is upon his back. He needs more help and counsel. An 
old master will tell you that he can discover who of his employes has been a 
slave, "for the slave," he says, "cannot look you in the eye without flinching." 



Neither can the ex-slave be very moral, if indeed moral at all. It is hard for 
him to bear the yoke of the family relation. Although conscious that he is a 
freeman, and can leave his employer in the lurch if he chooses, he is, here and 
there, almost content to slip back into the old devil-may-care dependence of 
slavery. The responsibilities of freedom are almost too much for him. He has 
entered upon a battle-field armed with poor and cumbersome weapons, weighed 
down with ignorance and " previous condition ;" and I venture to say that no one 
feels the difficulty and bitterness of his position more keenly than he docs himself. 

Unable as he is to aid in his own upbuilding, it is to be considered whether 
there is not really more room now for educational enterprises, and for a general 
diffi-ision of intelligence among his race, by Northern and Western men and 
women, than there was immediately after the war. Might it not be wise to 
appoint commissioners to investigate thoroughly the labor question in the 
South, and to make a final effort to remedy its evils by every proper means ? 
Events have shown that the National Government must undertake the improve- 
ment and the control of the Mississippi river ; why ought it not to devote some 
little attention to the removal of the obstacles to immigration into the most 
fertile sections of the Mississippi valley ? 

A Stear.-;boat Torch -Basket 




NEARLY' two hundred miles below Memphis, at the mouth of the y\rkansas 
river, and on lowhuids which, when I saw them, were drowned and 
buried under the combined flood of the two great rivers, stands Napoleon, 
once a flourishing town, but now gradually slipping away into the stream. 
The only other towns on the Arkansas bank of the river, of importance, are 
Sterling, which lies at the mouth of the St. Francis river, and Helena, a rather 
thriving and vigorous community of five thousand inhabitants. The White 
river, which was the scene of much fighting during the war, comes down 
from the wilds a httle above Napoleon, and pours its floods into the Arkan- 
sas. Napoleon did not have a good reputation in past days. Various anec- 
dotes, not entirely devoid of grim humor, were told of it, as illustrating the 
manners of the town. It was at Napoleon that the man showed a casual 
passer-by on a steamboat a pocket full of ears, and, with a grin, announced 
that he was among the boys while they were having a frolic last night. 
Murder, daily, was the rule, and not the exception. Brawls always ended in 
burials. Even now-a-days there are occasional scenes, which end in furious 
free fights. A pilot on one of the up-river steamers one day went into a 
saloon where a group were playing cards. The bystanders laughed at the 
loser, and the pilot laughed too. Being a stranger, his laughter was resented 
by the loser, who pulled a bowie-knife from his boot, and made a desperate 
lunge at him. The pilot returned to his boat. But the river is yearly more 
and more closely embracing the doomed town, and the roughs, like the rats, 
will leave before the final engulfing comes. In war time. Napoleon was an 
important rendezvous for gunboats and other warlike craft ; the United States 
Marine Hospital there had been seized by the Confederates when Arkansas 
seceded, but was recovered as soon as the Mississippi was partially opened. 

These wild and weird foi'ests and swamps bordering the junction of the 
Arkansas and Mississippi were threaded by the French as early as 1671, and 
the State now known as Arkansas was a part of Louisiana until the purchase 
made by the United States in 18 12. It had a varying fortune for some time 
thereafter; was made a territory in 18 19, then became part of Missouri terri- 
tory, but was finally admitted into the Union as a separate State in 1836. 
Arkansas is in area one -sixth larger than the State of New York, comprising 
more than fifty-two thousand square miles. It is separated by Nature into 
two important divisions — the one comprehending some of the richest agricul- 



tural bottom lands in the world, the other containin<^ vast deposits of valuable 
minerals. The mountain ranges, beginning in the south-western part of the 
State, develop into the Masserne range, and toward the north and east become 
broad, elevated tracts until they reach the Ozark mountains, which run from 
the vicinity of Little Rock, north and west, into Missouri. The often -repeated 
remark that "Arkansas is all swamp and backwoods" is an error inexcusable in 
one who travels so much as does the average American. There are tracts along 
the Mississippi which certainly are swamps, and will remain such until reclaimed 
by some general system of drainage ; but they comprehend but a small portion 

View on the Arkanias River at Little Rock. 

even of the lowlands. Drainage is necessary both to render the land productive, 
and to guard against the spread of pernicious climatic diseases.* The lands 
which extend from Napoleon to Memphis on the Arkansas side form the nucleus 
of a mighty lowland empire. Drained, settled, and carefully cultured, they 
would produce almost incalculable wealth. The negro is the man for this work. 
He is adapted to the climate, and if he had but the ambition, could speedily 
enrich himself 

The Arkansas river journeys two thousand miles to meet the Mississippi 
coming eastward from the mountains of Colorado ; and the entrance from it into 
the White river, near its mouth, is easy. The White river drains, with its tribu- 
taries, a large expanse in the north-western, middle, and south-eastern parts of 
the State, and renders the transportation of products easy and inexpensive. The 
Arkansas forms a superb water-way directly across the State, and into the 
recesses of the Indian Territory. It is navigable for several months in the year, 
and with needed improvements might be always serviceable. The Ouachita and 
its contributing streams drain that part of the State lying south of the Arkansas 
river, and the Red river gives drainage to the south-west. It would be difficult 
to find another State' of which it can be said that of its seventy-three counties 
fifty-one are watered by navigable streams. The climate varies with the location, 
but none could be healthier than that of the romantic mountain region ; more 
invigorating than that of the thick pine forests in the lower counties ; or more 
malarial than are the undrained and uncleared bottom lands. 
* "Resources of Arkansas," by James P. Henry. 


Time was when a journey up the Arkansas river was not devoid of thrilling 
adventure; when the passengers stopping at Little Rock laid their bowie-knives 
and pistols beside their knives and forks, on the hotel table, at supper ; and when 
along the river-bank could be heard the pistol-shot from time to time. Great 
numbers of outlaws from the older States came to Arkansas when it was first 
opened up, and, fascinated with the grandeur and beauty of tlie more elevated 
portions of the State, they remained there, — some to become honest and hard- 
working citizens, others to pursue their old callings of robbery and murder, and 
finally to die at the muzzle of a rifle. Wild life and careless culture of the soil, 
disregard of humanizing influences, and a general spirit of indifierence, character- 
ized large numbers of the people ; while others were as orderly, enterprising and 
industrious as those to be found in any of the older States. But the common- 
wealth has thus far been completely terra incognita to the people of the North 
and East. No railroads, up to a very recent oate, have penetrated its fertile 
lands ; river navigation has been tedious and unattractive ; and the stories, more 
or less exaggerated, told of the sanguinary propensities of some classes of the 
inhabitants, Avere such a grotesque mixture of fun and horror, that civilized peo- 
ple had no more desire to go there than to Central Africa. 

But now the most eflective civilizer, the iron rail, has been laid across 
the State. The St. Louis, Southern, and Iron Mountain railroad has stretched an 
arm from the Missouri border down the Black and White River valleys to Little 
Rock, the pretty and flourishing capital of the commonwealth ; thence through 
Arkadelphia, along the Ouachita valley, and across the Little Missouri and the 
Red River valley to the Texas boundary, w^here it connects wath the Inter- 
national and Great Northern and the Trans- Continental. In other words, it has 
placed Arkansas on the direct high road to Texas, and opened up to settlement, 
on terms which the poorest immigrant can accept, good lands for raising corn and 
the smaller grains; uplands wooded with pine, and bottoms all through the Red 
River valley timbered with walnut, oak and ash, noble cotton lands, and a fine 
country for fruit and grapes. The wild grape grows abundantly in the forests, 
and to large size. Along the line of this railroad also are scattered iron, coal, 
kaolin, and clay in large deposits. That portion of the road extending from the 
Missouri border down w^as built as the Cairo and Fulton railroad, giving a 
through line from Cairo, on the Mississippi, to Fulton, on the Texas line ; but it 
is now consolidated with the St. Louis and Iron Mountain road, which has 
recently completed its line from St. Louis to Little Rock, running through the 
range of mineral mountains in South-eastern Missouri, and uniting with the 
Cairo and Fulton route at Newport. In the White River valley there are 
some of the loveliest river bottom lands on the continent, where cotton yields a 
bale or a bale and a-half, corn seventy-five bushels, and wheat twenty-five 
bushels to the acre. This section of Arkansas is also admirably suited for the 
culture of tobacco and hemp, besides being an excellent fruit and stock country. 
Along this mammoth line of rail, nearly two million of acres, confirmed to the 
company by act of Congress, are now in market, and immigrants are rapidly 
settling at distances of five and ten miles from the railroad. 



The Arkansas river at Little Rock is broad and noble, and here and there 
the bluffs arc imoosing. The town is said to take its name from a small rock 
on the west side of the stream, — the first one encountered on that side from the 
mouth of the Mississippi to that point, — so level is the alluvial. Some distance 
up stream, on the east bank of the Arkansas, stands Big Rock, a bluff of a little 
prominence. The river is handsomely bridged for the railroad's convenience, and 
Little Rock, since the iron horse first snorted in its streets, has had a wonderful 
growth. It is a handsome, well laid out town, containing 20,000 inhabitants ; 
and one can see, from any eminence, hundreds of small, neat houses — the best 
testimonials to individual thrift in a community. The handsome but somewhat 
dilapidated State Capitol, the picturesque Penitentiary, perched on a rocky hill, 
the Deaf and Dumb State Asylum, the Asylum for the Blind, the land offices of 

The Arkansas State Capitol — Little Rock. 

the railroad companies, St. John's College, and St. Mary's Academy, are among 
its best public buildings. Many of its streets are beautifully shaded, and the 
peach-trees were in bloom on the March days when I visited it. The main part 
of the city lies on a high, rolling plateau overlooking the river ; back at some 
distance from the stream is the arsenal and post where United States troops are 
still stationed, and near by is a national cemetery. Little Rock was for many 
years the home of General Albert Pike, the noted Confederate general and poet, 
and his mansion is pointed out with pride by the people of the State. There, 
too, lived for many years the original of the "Arkansas Traveler," whose story 
has penetrated to the uttermost ends of the earth ; and there the negro has done 
much to increase one's faith in his capacity for industry and progress. 

The colored citizens of Little Rock and of Arkansas in general, number many 
gentlemen of education and refinement. The Superintendent of the Penitentiary, 


the Commissioner of State Lands, the Superinteiulent of I'ubhc Instruction, some 
of the State senators, police judges, aiul many preachers of excellent ability, are 
colored men. Among these gentlemen are graduates t)f I larvard University and 
of Oberlin, and of many of the best Western schools. A large proportion of the 
colored people at Little Rock own their own homes, which are mainly in the 
third ward, whence two aldermen, — black men and slaves up to the war, but 
now worth from $5,000 to $10,000 each, — are sent up to the Council. At 
Helena and Little Rock there have been many noteworthy instances of progress 
among the negroes. This is not so common in the back-country, although some 
of the counties have colored sheriffs and clerks. One of the most intelligent of 
his race in the State told me that the negroes had, as a rule, a horror of clearing 
up new land, and that they had been a good deal hindered from undertaking 
cotton-farming by the lack of means to begin with, — this requiring quite an 
outlay. The large landholders, too, have generally been averse to selling land in 
small parcels. For these reasons the country negroes are mainly "hired labor- 
ers, working on shares, or tenants by rental, payable in produce." In either 
case the landlord often furnishes the supplies of food, seed and stock, and at the 
annual settlement has the lion's share of the proceeds, the laborers making little 
more than their living for the year. A very reliable colored man told me that if 
the freedmen of Arkansas had made less progress since the war than those of the 
elder States since emancipation, he believed it to be because the white population 
of Arkansas was also, in many respects, behind that of the other States, being 
more sparsely settled and isolated, without large towns, railroads, and other 
improving agencies. The educational societies of the North had comparatively 
neglected the State. Political commotions had been the rule ever since recon- 
struction, and the State was already bankrupt at the outbreak of the war. The 
Republican party, which came in with reconstruction, inaugurated vast schemes 
for " internal improvements," and to obtain means to carry on said improve- 
ments, funded the old ante-bellum bonds of the State as a pledge of good faith. 
This process, he thought, had resulted in a large increase of the State debt, the 
debt in onerous taxation, and the taxation in a high rental. The State bonds 
outstanding March 14, 1874, are classified as follows : 

Railroad aid bonds $5,350,000 

Funded bond, July i, 1869 2,000,000 

Funded bond, January i, 1870 2,350,000 

Levee bonds 2,208,500 

Outstanding insurance certificates 1,600,000 

Some manufacturing has been introduced at Little Rock, and the wholesale 
trade of the town is very large, although as no organized chamber of commerce 
yet exists, I could not discover its amount. At the close of the war it was only 
a small village, with little or no railroad outlet, and with a minor trade. Planters 
had been in the habit of bringing almost literally everything which they needed 
from Memphis ; the idea of keeping supplies in the State had never occurred to 
them. Now the through route to Texas, the Memphis and Little Rock, and the 


Little Rock and Fort Smith railroads give plenty of outlets, and are bringing the 
town considerable new population. The latter route, in which a good many 
Eastern men are interested, is not yet completed, and is in wretched financial 
and material condition, but it runs through a fine country, and, if ever finished, 
will develop the most interesting portion of Arkansas. The noble country along 
the borders of the Indian Territory needs developing : it is rich in minerals and 
in grand mountain scenery, but is now in semi-barbaric hands, and it will take a 
persistent effort to improve the tone of society there. Fort Smith is on the 
Arkansas river and the border of the Territory, has a population of 3,000, is a 
military post whence offenders from the Indian Territory are taken to be tried, 
and once had a very extensive Western trade, which has been taken away by 
the passage of the Missouri, Kansas and Texas line of rail within sixty-five 
miles of the town. Society throughout this section is said to be improving. 
My own opinion is that it will never improve much in the face of ignorance, 
whiskey, and weapons. Most of the deadly broils occur between drunken 
ruffians, whose only sentiment is revenge by pistol-shot, and whose chief amuse- 
ment is coarse and bestial intoxication. The " Fort Smith road " runs through 
the counties of Pulaski, Vincennes, Faulkner, Conway, Pope, Johnson, Franklin, 
Crawford, and Sebastian. Conway, Lewisburgh, and Russelville promise to be 
important towns along the line, although the local business is thus far slight. 

Over the 33,000,000 of acres in Arkansas are scattered barely 500,000 people, 
and the nature of their employment forbids the building of many large towns. 
The grade of intelligence in the interior districts, where they have never had 
schools, is much the same as in Eastern Tennessee. There are fewer churches 
than school-houses in the "up-country." The masses of the whites are ambi- 
tionless ; and even the most enthusiastic that I met seemed dubious about the 
State's prospects. The north-eastern current of immigration is wanted, and 
would do much toward reforming the State. Something beyond a rough pros- 
perity in cotton-raising and whiskey seems to be demanded ; and the cultured 
people living in the larger towns are making special efforts to redeem the com- 
monwealth from the bad name it has received. Certainly Little Rock's hand- 
some development should do much to make one believe in the State's possibili- 
ties ; it has a flourishing library, a dozen good churches, several well-ordered 
banks, and fine streets ; society and schools are as good as in Eastern towns of 
the same size. But in the back-country! — there the prospect is very different. 
Little Rock, with its streets and gardens filled with azaleas, japonicas, China and 
peach-trees, the queenly magnolia, and the lovely box-elders and elms, is a 
striking contrast to some of the rude lowland towns near the river, or the log- 
built, unkempt settlements in the interior, where morals are bad, manners worse, 
and there are no comforts or graces. The Presbyterian Church South is the 
prevailing denomination at Little Rock, and Northern people worship in it, 
politics being eschewed. The schools are, of course, classified for black and 
white ; mixed schools having been nowhere attempted, or, indeed, demanded. 
The Industrial University at Fayetteville is to be a powerful institution, and the 
Judsonian University, located at Judsonia, in White county, is one of the hopes 


of the future. Schools have been ori^anized and maintained for a number of 
years in Fort Smith, I'iiie lihiffs, Helena, Arkadelphia, Dardanelle and Camden, 
and have been well attended by both white and black children. The State 
Superintendent could not inform me how many schools were in operation in the 
community ; inasmuch as he had to operate with only the semi-annual appor- 
tionment of $55,000 in State scrip, worth forty cents on the dollar, he could not 
make much new effort. lie admitted that but little progress in education had as 
yet been made in the remote parts of Arkansas ; the thinly settled character of 
the region preventing neighborhood schools. 

The vexed condition of politics in the State since the war has greatly hin- 
dered its development. People complained a good deal of the manner in which 
the Arkansas Central (narrow gauge) railroad scheme was conducted. This road 
is now in operation from Helena to Clarendon, and is eventually to be completed 
to Little Rock. It traverses one of the best cotton-producing regions in the South. 
Its completion is hindered by the anomalous condition of affairs in the State, and 
by the various accusations brought against its builders as to the manner in which 
they obtained the money to build it with. The Little Rock, Pine Bluff and New 
Orleans road now runs from Chicot to Pine Bluff, and will this year reach Little 
Rock. The Mississippi, Ouachita and Red River road is intended to run across 
the State from Chicot, on the Mississippi, to Texarcana, on the Red river. The 
Ouachita Valley road extends from Arkadelphia to Camden, and thence will con- 
nect with Monroe in Louisiana. Camden is one of the largest towns in Southern 
Arkansas, in the heart of a fine cotton- growing section. It will be seen that as 
soon as these projected, lines are completed, Arkansas will be very thoroughly 
traversed by roads, and, with her splendid river highways, will find no difificulty 
in annually sending an early crop to Memphis and New Orleans. Steamers can 
reach Camden from New Orleans coming up the Red and Ouachita rivers, and 
thousands of bales of cotton annually go to New Orleans that way. But these 
facilities for communication cannot enrich the State so long as an appeal to arms 
by a discontented faction may at any time overthrow law, destroy order, and turn 
towns into camps. There seems to have been, since the close of the war, the 
most bitter struggle between the different factions, sometimes resulting in blood- 
shed, and always in a paralysis of the State's vitality for some time after the 
combat. The partisans in a State where the use of arms is so common as it is in 
Arkansas are, of course, violent and vindictive, and a good many lives are wasted 
in useless struggling to prevent those sudden changes in party sentiment which 
are inevitable.. When Governor Clayton was elected to the United States Sena- 
torship, he was seemingly unwilling to allow his successor to take his office, for 
fear that he might change the course of the party. So, recently, the Republican 
Governor now in office, having inaugurated his course by promising something 
like an honest administration, and by uniting around him the more reputable of 
the old Conservatives — in other words, by bringing politics, to a certain extent, 
back to their normal condition, and not controlling the intelligent property- 
owners by ignorant and incompetent office-holders — was temporarily ousted by 
the beaten candidate, who brought a formidable army at his back, expelled the 


rightful Governor, Mr. Baxter, and opened the way to a series of arrests and 
counter-arrests, which would have been laughable had they not been so disgust- 
ing to any one possessing a high ideal of republican government. It required the 
interference of the Federal Government to secure the reinstatement of Governor 
Baxter, and the would-be usurper, who had mustered at his back a Falstafifian 
army of idle and worthless fellows, retired only when the proclamation of the 
President warned him to do so. The re-establishment of law and order was 
followed by a popular vote on the question of holding a new constitutional con- 
vention. The election occurred in July, and the people of the State affirmed, 
by more than seventy thousand majority, their desire for a convention. Several 
important amendments to the constitution will, doubtless, be made ; some of the 
elder Democrats have already manifested a disposition to return to the illiberal 
ante-bellum policy with regard to general taxation. 

Taxes in the State now are nearly six per cent. The vicious system of 
issuing State warrants is pursued in Arkansas as in Louisiana, and with the same 
disastrous results. A stern reign of law and order for four years would fill 
Arkansas with immigrants ; but a coicp cVctat every four years will not be very 
reassuring. The Legislature should enact a law forbidding the bearing of arms, 
and should enforce it if possible. Murder is considered altogether too trivial an 
offense in Arkansas. I walked through the Penitentiary at Little Rock, and saw 
a large number of white and black criminals who were serving life, or long term 
sentences for homicide. A brace of negroes working at the prison forge were 
murderers; an old man, peacefully toihng at a carpenter's bench, was a murderer; 
a young negro, hewing a lo^, was a murderer ; and in a dark cell, a murderer, 
stretched on his iron bedstead, was sleeping off the terrors which had partially 
subsided with the reprieve just sent him. The Governor had fifteen proclama- 
tions, offering rewards for murderers, flying about the State at the date of my 
visit. The day before I left Little Rock, however, a desperado was hung in the 
neighboring town of Clarksville, and it was thought that the execution would 
have a salutary effect on the lawless element. 

The resources of Arkansas are, like those of all the other Southern and South- 
western States, as yet but little drawn upon by the resident population; and they 
are immense. Arkansas contains twelve thousand square miles of coal,* and a 
valuable coal-basin is situated along both sides of the Arkansas river. In Sebas- 
tian county there are veins from three to six feet thick. A lead belt extends 
diagonally across the State ; the lead and silver mines in Sevier county promise 
much clay. Kaolin, gypsum, copper, and zinc are found in profusion, manganese, 
ochre, and paint-earths are to be had in many counties ; and there are vast 
quarries of slate, whetstone, limestone, and marble. Iron ore has been discov- 
ered at various points; but the coal -stores are the great treasure, and must 
some time enrich the State. 

The St. Louis, Iron Mountain, and Southern railroad has brought the Hot 
Springs, that famous Bethesda of the rheumatic and scrofulous unfortunate, within 
convenient distance of a Pullman palace-car. The staging is now eighteen 

* Testimony of the State Geologist. 



instead of eighty-five miles to this Had-Gastcin of America, which Hes in a wild, 
mountainous region near the line of the St. Louis, Southern and Iron Mountain 
road. The hot springs issue from the western slope of a spur of the Ozark 
range, about fourteen hundred feet above the sea-level. There arc now nearly 
sixty of these springs, new ones appearing annually. Their temperature 
varies from ninety- five to one hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit, and they 
discharge something like three hundred gallons per minute. Thousands of 
discouraged pilgrims flock to Hot Springs yearly, and return much recovered ; 
v.'hile those who do nt)t achieve a cure experience great relief. The town lies in 
a valley which follows the Hot Spring creek, and is very well supplied with 


The Hot Springs, Arkansas. 

hotels and neat but inexpensive residences. I did not penetrate to the Springs 
but heard very powerful testimony in their behalf. It is expected, and, I think 
desired, that the United States, which has a disputed claim to the " Hot Springs 
reservation," should succeed in getting possession, and making the valley a grand 
sanitary resort free to the jDeople. 

The forests of Arkansas offer the most stupendous chances for the develop- 
ment of State wealth. The yellow pine and cypress, the cedar, the cottonwood, 
the mulberry, the oaks, hickories, pecans, and ash, can be borne easily to market 
on the bosoms of the great currents near which they grow. There are still 
eight millions of acres of land belonging to the United States subject to home- 
stead entry, and these are among the best in Arkansas. A decent State 
government, and the progress of education among the masses, would enable the 
State to leap into as wonderful a growth as that achieved by Texas and Missouri. 
But there is a great deal to do before that prosperity can be achieved. 



THE journey along the Mississippi river from Napoleon, on the Arkansas 
shore, to Vicksburg, the largest town in the State of Mississippi, discloses 
naught save vast and gloomy stretches of forest and flat, of swamp and inlet, of 
broad current and green island, until Columbia, a pretty town on the Arkansas 
side, is passed. Below Columbia the banks of the river are lined with cotton 
plantations for more than 150 miles. 

Vicksburg, the tried and troubled hill- city, her crumbling bluffs still filled 
v/ith historic memorials of one of the most desperate sieges and defences of 
modern times, rises in quite imposing fashion from the Mississippi's banks in a 


Vicksburg, Mississippi. 

loop in the river, made by a long delta, which at high water is nearly submerged. 
The bluffs run back some distance to an elevated plateau. In the upper streets 
are many handsome residences. The Court- House has climbed to the summit 
of a fine series of terraces ; here and there a pretty church serves as a land-mark; 
and the remains of the old fort from which " Whistling Dick," a famous Confed- 


1 H E 

N A l I O N A L C K M K l JC 1< Y 


erate j^un, was wont to sing defiance to the I'ederals, arc still visible on a lofty 
eminence. I'"roiii the grass-grown ramixirts one can see "Grant's Cut-off" in the 
distance ; overlook the principal avenue — Washington street, well-lined with 
spacious shops and stores, and unhappily filled at all hours with lounging 
negroes; can see the broad current sweeping round the tongue of land on which 
the towns of De Soto and Delta stand, and the ferries plying to the landings of 
the railroad which cuts across North Louisiana to Shreveport ; can see the almost 
perpendicular streets scaling the bluff from the water-side, and, down by the river, 
masses of elevators and warehouses, whence the white, stately packets come and 
go. There is evidence of growth; neat hcnises arc scattered on hill and in valley 
in every direction; yet the visitor will find that money is scarce, credit is poor, 
and that every tradesman is badly discouraged. 

The river is so intricate in its turnings that one is at first puzzled on seeing a 
steamboat passing, to know whether it is ascending or descending ; at the end of 
the " loop," near the mouth of the Yazoo river, and at the point where Sherman 
made his entrance from the " Valley of Death," is the largest national cemetery 

The National Cemetery at Vicksburg, Mississippi. 

in the country, in whose grassy plats repose the mortal remains of sixteen thou- 
sand soldiers. The view from the slopes of the cemetery, reached by many a 
detour through dusty cuts in the hills, is too flat to be grandiose, but ample 
enough to be inspiring. The wooded point; the cross-current setting around it; 
the wide sweep away toward the bend, are all charming. The old Scotch gar- 
dener and sexton told me that twelve thousand of the graves were riiarked 
"unknown." The original design contemplated the planting of the cemetery 
Avith tree-bordered avenues intended to resemble the aisles and nave of a cathe- 
dral. This was impracticable ; but oaks have been planted throughout the ground, 
and the graves were covered with lovely blossoms. The section of Vicksburg 
between the cemetery and the town is not unlike the park of the Buttes Chau- 
mont in Paris. Grapes grow wild in the adjacent valleys, and might readily be 
cultivated on the hill-sides. A simple marble shaft in the cemetery is destined to 
commemorate the spot where Grant held his famous interview with Pemberton. 

Vicksburg has acquired a not altogether enviable notoriety as a town where 
shooting at sight is a popular method of vengeance, and, shortly before my 
second visit there, three murders were committed by men who deemed it manly 
to take the law into their own hands. There is still rather too much of this 



barbarism remaining in Mississippi, and it has not always the excuse of intoxica- 
tion to palliate it. The Vicksburg method seems not to be the duel, but cold- 
blooded murder. The laws of the duello are pretty thoroughly expunged in 
Mississippi, although 1 was not a little 
amused to learn from Governor iVmes 
that the ultra-Democratic people in 
those counties of the State border- 
ing on Louisiana refused in any man- 
ner to aid the authorities in securing 
duelists who steal out from New 
Orleans to fight on Mississippi soil, 

on the ground that the "d d 

Yankees want to do away with duel- 
ing so as to make their own heads 
safe." Mississippi is a sparsely settled 
State, and in some of the counties 
life is yet as rough as on the South- 
western frontier. But that open and 

The Gamblers' Graves — Vicksburg, Mississippi. 

deliberate murder should be encouraged in a city of fifteen thousand inhabitants, 

where there is good society, and where church and school flourish, is monstrous ! 

Vicksburg was once the scene of a terrible popular vengeance. A number 

of gamblers persisted in remaining in the town against the wishes of the citizens, 

and having .shown fight and killed one 

or two townsmen, they were them- 
selves lynched, and buried among the 
bluffs. The town gets its name from 
one of the oldest and most highly 
respected families in Mississippi, — the 
Vicks, — whose family mansion stands 
on a handsome eminence in the town 
of to-day. Colonel Vick, the present 
representative of the famil}-, is a speci- 
men of the noble-looking men grown 
in the Mississippi valley, — six feet four 
in stature, erect and stately, with the 
charming courtesy of the old school. 
The picture which our artist has given 
of him does justice only to the fine, 
manly face ; it cannot reproduce the 
form and the manner. Mississippi 
raises noble men, and they were won- 
derful soldiers, showing pluck, persist- 
ence, and grip- Nineteen lines of 
steam-packets ply between New Orleans and Vicksburg, and from Vicksburg 
up the Yazoo river. The scene in the elevators at the river-side, as in Memphis, 

Colonel A'ick, of Vicksburg, Mississippi, Planter. 


is in the highest dej^ree animated. Thousands of bales and barrels rcjll and 
tumble down the gangways which commimicate with the boats, and the shouting 
is terrific. The railroad from Vicksburg to Jackson, the Mississippian capital, 
runs through the scene of some of the heaviest fighting of the war, crossing the 
Big Black river, and passing I'Ld wards and other flourishing towns, set down 
between charming forests and rich cotton-fields. 

Sailing on through the submerged country from Vicksburg was sorrowful 
work; every one was dei:)resscd with imminent disaster. We passed into the 
great bend, or lake, ^\here, on Hurricane Island, lie the plantations formerly 
owned by the Davis Brothers, — famous for their wealth. The broad acres once 
known as the property of Jefferson Davis are now in the hands of his ex-slave, 
who, by the way, is said to be a miracle of thrift and intelligence. 

Negroes were toiling in the mud at some of the landings, building 
ineficctual dams, around which the current of the great river, sooner or 
later, remorselessly ran. The white men, splashing along the overflowed 
roads on horseback, looked grimly courageous, and gave their orders in a 
cool, collected manner. The whole land seemed one treacherous morass; 
the outlook was very discouraging. 

We passed several rude villages on the eastern bank, which had been built by 
colonies of negroes, who had fled as the floods came upon them. These blacks 
gain a precarious livelihood by cutting wood and growing chickens for passing 
steamers ; they depend on the captains of the boats for their supplies of corn- 
meal, molasses, pork and whiskey, and are sometimes reduced almost to starva- 
tion when their natural recklessness and improvidence have resulted in empty 

At one of these primitive settlements, known as "Waterproof" (it w^as by no 
means proof against the water, however), there were once two negro preachers 
who were extravagantly fond of whiskey. As each desired to maintain in the 
eyes of the other a reputation for strictest temperance, some secrecy in procuring 
the supplies of the coveted article was necessary, and each made the clerk of the 
"Great Republic" his confidant. Whenever the boat stopped at "Waterproof," 
the preachers w'ere promptly on hand, each one obtaining of the clerk a 
private interview, and imploring him to bring, on the return trip, a good keg 
of whiskey, carefully enveloped, so that " dat udder nigger" should not know 
what it was. When the clerk complied, he received at the hands of the grateful 
preachers thank-offerings of chickens and fat ducklings, and whenever he mis- 
chievously threatened to expose the reverend sinners, he would hear the fright- 
ened words: 

" 'Fo' de Lord, you 's gwine to ruin me !" 

When the river destroys the land upon which the negroes have built a town, 
and tumbles their cabins and their little church into the current, they retire to 
the higher lands, a few miles back, or seek a new water-side location. They 
cultivate but little corn, and give much of their time to merry-makings, " meet- 
ings," mule races, and long journeys from one settlement to another. As we 
passed a little village where there were, perhaps, a hundred negroes, comfort- 

"KRKE nigger;,." 


ably installed in weather-proof cabins, a passenger on the " Great Republic," 
who was a planter of the old t'cginic, indulged in the following monologue : 

" Thar 's what they call free niggers. Thar 's a change from a few years ago, 
sir. Them poor things thar are just idlin' away their time, I reckon ; and you 

notice, they 're mighty ragged and destitute lookin.' Thar 's a d d nigger 

a-ridin' a mule, as comfortable like as ye please. Not much like the old times, 
when they were all working quiet-like in the fields. Sundays yo 'd seen 'em in 
their clean white clothes, singin' and shoutin' or may be doin' a bit of fishin', and 
at night, when the plantation bell rung, agoin' peaceful as lambs to quarters. 
Now it 's all frolic. I reckon they '11 starve. What kin they do alone, sir ?" 

Natchez-under-the-Hill, Mississippi. 

" I hain't nothin' agin a free nigger," said a tall native of Mississippi bound 
for Texas, " but I don't want him to say a word to me. The world's big enough 
for us both, I reckon. We ain't made to live together under this new style o' 
things. Free niggers and me could n't agree." And the two spat sympa- 

The negroes in the valley cheered the "Great Republic" as she passed; the 
swart mothers, fondling their babes, looked up and waved their hands, and some 
of the men doffed their hats, unconsciously retaining the respectful manner which 
they had been forced to observe under the stern domination of slavery. 

The western bank of the river below Vicksburg, even to the Gulf of Mexico, 
is within the bounds of Louisiana. The eastern bank, to a point nearly oppo- 


CKN lURY M.\ n" N A l(,n KZ - U N D K K - J' II i: - I! I 1. 1, 

site the Red river, is in Mississij)i)i. The characteristics of the river-side 
populations in both States arc much the same. The nefj[roes in many of the 
counties are largely in the majorit}-, and hold responsible offices. One of the 
prominent citi/cens of Natchez, who was in former days a man of large wealth, 
I owning several hundred negroes, was 


View in Brown's Garden — Natchez, Mississippi. [Page 293. J 

sitting on his verandah one day, when a 
negro ^\•ith a book under his arm ap- 
proached, and with the dignity befitting 
a state official, said to the Caucasian: 
" I 's de century-man, sah ! " 
He was the officer appointed to take 
the census for the county. He could 
not read well, and his chirography was 
painful, but he showed diligence and 

Grand Gulf, in Mississippi, is a 
pretty town, lying on romantic hills, 
whose bases are bathed by the great 
stream. A railway extends from Grand Gulf to Port Gibson, eight miles dis- 
tant, and a thriving trade is done with the interior. The hills overhanging the 
river were advantageous positions for the Confederates in Avar time, and the 
Federal fleet of gun-boats shelled the town and its battery-crowned heights in 
1862. Below Grand Gulf there are no towns of importance on either side of 
the river until Natchez, one of the loveliest of Southern towns, and without 
exception the most beautiful in Mississippi, is reached. 

Natchez, like Vicksburg, lies on a line of blufis which rear their bold heads 
from the water in an imposing manner. He who sees only Natchez-under-the- 
Hill from a steamboat's deck gets an impression of a few prosaic houses hud- 
dled together not far from a w^harf-boat, a road leading up a steep and high hill, 
and here and there masses of foliage. Let him wander ashore, and scale the 
cliff, and he will find himself in a quiet, unostentatious, beautifully shaded town, 
from which, so oppressive at first is the calm, he almost fancies 

" Life and thought are gone away ; " 

but he finds cheeriest of people, — cheery, too, under heavy misfortunes, — and 
homes rich in refinement and half buried under the lustrous and voluptuous 
blossoms which the wonderful climate favors. Natchez has an impressive cathe- 
dral, a fine court-house, a handsome Masonic temple, and hosts of pretty houses. 
You walk beneath the shade of the China-tree and the water oak, the cedar 
and the laurimunda. Nowhere is there glare of sun on the pavement ; nothing 
more clamorous than the galloping of a horse stirs the blood of the nine thou- 
sand inhabitants. 

There were, before the war, great numbers of planters' residences in the 
suburbs, — beautiful houses, with colonnades and verandahs, with rich drawing 
and dining-rooms, furnished in heavy antique style, and gardens modeled after the 



finest in Europe. Many of these homes have been destroyed. We visited one or 
two whose owners have been fortunate enough to keep them. The lawns and 
gardens are luxurious. The Mississippian wealth of roses is inconceivable to 
him who has not visited such gardens as Brown's, in Natchez-under-the-Hill, and 
that of Mr. Shields, in the suburbs of the upper town. I remember no palace 
garden in Europe which impressed me so powerfully with the sense of richness 
and exquisite profusion of costly and delicate blooms as Brown's, at Natchez, 
which a wealthy Scotchman cultivated for a quarter of a century, and handed 
down to his family, with injunctions to maintain its splendor. 

From the bluff above this indescribably charming spot one can overlook the 
plain of Concordia, in Louisiana, on the west side the broad, tranquil river, and 
catch the gleam of the lake among the mammoth trees. 

There are still many wealthy families in Natchez, independent of the war and 
its abasements. Here and there a French name and tradition remind one that 
the town is of French origin, that DTberville founded it in 1700, and that 
Bienville once had a trading-post there among the Natchez Indians. There 
that tribe, fire-worshipers and noble savages, passed an innocent and Arcadian 
existence, keeping ever alight on their altars a fire in honor of the sun. But the 
white man cam.e ; the fire on the altars went out; the Indian was swept av.'ay. 
Gayarre, who has written well concerning these Southern Indian tribes, says the 
Natchez were the Athenians of Louisiana, as the Choctaws were the Boeotians. A 
hundred years after the Natchez had first seen the French, Fort Rosalie, on 
the bluff, — its site is still pointed out to the stranger, — was evacuated by the 
Spaniards, that the flag of the United States might be raised over it, and 
since 1803 Natchez has been an incorporated American city. It has no manu- 
factures now ; its trade depends entirely on cotton. No railroad reaches it, 
but a narrow-gauge, called the Natchez, Jackson, and Columbus road, has been 
begun. The adjoining counties furnish from five to twenty thousand bales of 
cotton annually, which are shipped to New Orleans for sale. 

Natchez was out of debt when it was given over to the Republican party, but 
has acquired quite a heavy indebtedness since. The negroes came into power 
there in 1867. The present Sheriff, the County Treasurer and Assessor, the 
majority of the magistrates, and all 
the officers managing county affairs, 
except one, are negroes. The Board 
of Aldermen has three negroes in it. 
There is the usual complaint among 
the Conservatives that money has been 
dishonestly and foolishly expended; 
but the government of the city 
seemed, on the whole, very satisfac- 
tory. About a thousand children are 
at school in the public schools, and 
four hundred of them, — the colored 

pupils, have a handsome new school- Avenue in Brown's Garden — Natchez, Mississippi. 



house, callcti the " Union, " built expressly for them. Natchez had an excellent 
system of jjublic schools before the war, and the " Natchez Institute," the 
original free-school, is still kept up. The Catholic institutions are numerous 
and thriving. A good many of the negroes, as in Louisiana, are Catholics. 

One-half of the population of Natchez is black, and seems to live on 
terms of amity with the white half White and black children play together 
in the streets, and one sometimes feels like asking " Why, if that be so, should 

A Mississippi River Steamer arriviiiL; at Natchez in the Night. 

they not go to school together?" But the people of Mississippi, like the people 
throughout the South, will not hear of mixed schools. The negroes are vocifer- 
ously prominent as hackmen, wharfmen, and public servants generally; but they 
do not like to leave the town and settle down to hard work on the worn-out hills 
at the back of the city. 

On the bluffs, some three miles from the town, is a national cemetery, 
beautifully planned and decorated, and between it and Natchez stands the dilapi- 
dated United States Marine Hospital, and the grass-grown ramparts of Fort 
McPherson mark the site of a beautiful mansion which was razed for military 
purposes. When its owner, a rich Frenchman, was offered compensation by 
the army officer superintending the work, he gruffly refused it, saying that he 
had enough still left to buy the United States Government. 


The taxes in Natchez and vicinity are very oppressive, amounting to nearly 
six per cent. The State and county tax touches four per cent, and is based on 
full two- thirds the valuation. The railroad movement has, however, done some- 
thing to increase these burdens. 

Many of the Natchez planters own plantations on the Louisiana side of the 
river, but, of course, have no political influence there, and are dependent on the 
negroes for the local legislation necessary to secure them in their rights, and for 
measures to prevent inundation. I attended a session of a parish jury in Vidalia, 
opposite Natchez, and was surprised to find it almost entirely composed of 
blacks. The white planters with whom I conversed grumbled bitterly over 
their hard fate, and recounted thrilling stories of the exploits of carpet-baggers 
in their vicinity. From the tone of their conversation, it was easy to see that 
they believed these carpet-baggers had misled the negroes, who would otherwise 
have been well enough disposed. 

The jury, whose office corresponds, so far as I could learn, very much to that 
of our county commissioners in the Northern States, comprised men of various 
grades of intelligence. One or two of the negroes were well dressed, and quiet 
and gentlemanly in their manners ; the others were slouching, unkempt, suspicious 
in their demeanor, and evidently unfit for any public duty. The planters addressed 
them familiarly, stating their needs, and making hearty appeals to the common 
sense of the most intelligent of the number. As the inundation was rapidly in- 
vading all the neighboring lands, the negroes recognized the necessity of action. 

At Vidalia I also met one of the prominent negro members of the Louisiana 
Legislature, Mr. David Young, a coal black man. When I first saw him he was 
addressing a row of his fellow-citizens, who were seated upon a fence in that 
nerveless, unexpectant attitude so characteristic of the lowland negro. As an 
election was about to occur in Vidalia, he was endeavoring to impress on the 
colored voters the necessity of electing reform officers, and indulged in some 
general remarks on the importance of a purification of Louisiana politics. 
Brandishing his ballots, he warned the listeners to vote for honest representa- 
tives ; whereupon one ragged negro said sullenly : 

" I 's done gwine to vote to suit myself. Dave Young nor no udder man 
ain't gwine to tell me nothin' 'bout my vote." 

Mr. Young then proceeded to explain to them that Northern sentiment 
was beginning to rebel against the misrule at the South, and that the colored 
voters throughout the State must be "wise in time." The listeners shook their 
heads suspiciously, although evidently impressed with what they had heard. As 
we drew near, and entered into conversation, Mr. Young turned his attention to 
us, and expressed himself desirous of a fair government in the State for both 
whites and blacks. While he gave his views, in plain but well chosen language, 
I noticed that the other negroes listened intently, making whispered comments 
on his remarks. They were far from friendly toward Young, as he was a candi- 
date for re-election to the Legislature against a white man who had a notoriously 
evil reputation as a carpet-bagger, yet who had obtained the firm support of a 
majority of the negroes in the parish. 




" We do not object," said one planter to me, as we left Vidalia, " to the 
presence of the negro in the parish jury, we complain because nine out of ten 
who sit upon the jury are ij^norant and have no property at all, and yet are 
permitted to judge of what is best for the interests of jjroperty- holders. We are 
often compelled to submit questions of vital importance to the judgment of irre- 
sponsible and sus])icious fellows, who, because they are opposed to us politically, 
seem to think it their bounden duty to do nothing for our material well-being. 
But such men as Dave Young do some good. They are teaching the negroes 
a little prudence and moderation. I would rather have a nigger like David, than 
a white man like " (mentioning the wicked carpet-bagger). 




DURING my stay in Natchez, one of the many gentlemen interested in 
cotton-planting on the west or Louisiana side of the river, invited 
me to accompany him on a tour of inspection. The rapidly- rising river threat- 
ened to inundate the lands on which hundreds of negroes had been expending 
weeks of patient care, and the planter felt it his duty to take a horseback ride 
over the trio of plantations under his charge ; so we crossed the Mississippi, and 
rode twelve miles into the interior of Louisiana. 

On the road, which led along the lovely banks of Lake Concordia, the planter 
chatted of some of the vexations by which he is daily beset, and spoke rather 
hopelessly of the labor problem. The condition of society, too, he thought very 
bad, and that it was an actual hindrance to the development of the section. 

"Are the negroes," I asked him, " aggressive and insolent toward the white 

But as the planter was about to answer this question, we approached a ferry- 
boat, or barge, in which we were to cross an arm of the lake to the island on 
which my friend's plantations were situated. An old negro man, much the worse 
for liquor, was preparing to monopolize the boat with his mule-team, but held 
back the mules, and touched his hat with drunken courtesy as we came up. 

" Stand aside, uncle," said the planter firmly, but very politely; " we wish to 
cross at once, and there is not room for us all." 

" Yas, sail ; yas. Colonel," said the old man. " I 's willin' to wait on you 
gemmen, 'cause you is gemmen ; but ef yer was no count folks, I 'd go for yen 
Ride in. Colonel." 

When we were some distance from shore, the planter said : 

" That old man made way for us simply out of deference to our social 
position. The negroes are courteous enough to us ; it has been their habit so 
long that they cannot forget it. But they will kill our deer and steal our poultry 
and bacon, and we have no redress." 

After an hour or two of journeying over rough roads, we came to one of the 
plantations. A host of negroes were busily filling a breach in a dyke which the 
treacherous water might sweep away if rains came to swell the already ominous 
floods of the Mississippi. A pack of hounds came yelping to meet the planter ; 
and the black women in the cabin courtesied obsequiously. 

We crossed the field, bordered by noble cypresses and oaks, stopping 
now and then to watch the negroes as they carefully prepared the ground 
which an inundation might, in less than a day, reduce to a hopeless wilderness 


of mud. Entering the house of the overseer, we found that functionary smoking 
his pipe and reposing after a long ride over the plantation. He was a rough, 
hearty, good-natured man, accustomed to living alone and faring rudely. I 
asked him what he thought of the negro as a free laborer. 

" He works well, mostly, sir. These yer Alabama niggers that 's workin' on 
our plantations now do well on wages. They make some little improvements 
around their cabins, but mighty little, sir. Ef politics would only let 'em alone, 
they 'd get along well enough, I reckon." 

" Do the negroes on this plantation vote?" 

" I reckon not (laughing). I don't want my niggers to have anything to do 
with politics. They can't vote as long as they stay with us, and these Alabama 
boys don't take no interest in the elections here." 

" What do they receive as monthly wages?" 
"From ten to sixteen dollars. It costs us about fifteen dollars per head to bring 
'em from Alabama. These niggers likes wages better than shares. We keep a 
store here, and, Saturday nights, most of the money they have earned comes 
back to us in trade. They're fond o' whiskey and good things to eat." 

" What is the routine of your work on a large plantation like this, and those 
adjoining it, throughout the year ? " 

" Wal, sir, I reckon that 's a long story. We don't have much spare time, 
and mighty little amusement. Wal, sir, the first thing we do, sir, we begin early 
in January, a few weeks after the old crop is all gathered in, to repair fences and 
clean out all the ditches, sir. Then we pull down the old stalks, and start the 
ploughs to throw quadruple furrows in the fields. Then we throw out the 
' middles.' " 

" What are they?" 

"Wal, sir, we throw out soil at the sides so as to leave a slope bed of fresh 
ground to plant on, and loose earth to cover it with. If the spring freshet 
breaks on to this yer prepared earth, we 've got to begin over again, and that 
makes the season very late. 

" Planting begins about the last of March, or very early in April. Piles of 
cotton seed are laid along some ways apart on the field, and then the niggers 
sow it along the beds, a ton of seed to eight acres. Then it is ' barred off' — 
covered up, that means. 

"Ez soon as the cotton stalks begin to peep up, 'scraping' begins. The 
hands weed every row carefully, and don't leave any weakly plants. That, and 
looking after the caterpillars, keeps 'em busy till July. Caterpillars ain't the only 
danger we have to fight against. Thar 's a hundred others. Cotton 's a ticklish 
plant to raise. You 've got to watch it mighty close, and then the worms and 
the weather will sometimes ruin the crop. 

" Between July and September we keep the hands busy, getting out baskets, 
and setting things in order ; then we pile in new help, and for the rest of 
the season, employ three times as many hands as thar 's in the fields now. 
Up to Christmas it 's picking and ginning, and it 's right lively, you can be 


From the overseer's conversation I learned that cotton-picking is done quite 
as thoroughly under the system of free labor as in the days when slave-driving 
was permissible ; but that the " niggers " require constant watching. On many 
plantations where the yield is abundant, it is difficult to concentrate labor enough 
at the proper time to get the cotton into the gin-house the same year that it is 
planted. I have seen cotton-fields still white with their creamy fleeces late in 
December, because the negroes were either too lazy or too busily engaged in 
their annual merry-makings to gather the harvest. But on the large lowland 
plantations along the Mississippi, the crop is usually gathered early, and the 
picking is very thorough. I could not discover that there was any system of 
"forced labor" now in use, and I thought the overseer's statement, that a "good 
field-hand now-a-days w^ould pick 250 pounds of cotton daily," was excellent 
testimony in favor of free labor. He added, however, that on many plantations 
the average hands would not pick more than 100 pounds per day. 

The laborers were coming in from the field in a long picturesque procession. 
As it was spring-time many of them had been ploughing, and were mounted 
upon the backs of the stout mules which had been their companions all day. 
Some of the men were singing rude songs, others were shouting boisterously and 
scuffling as they went their way along the broad pathway bordered by giant 
cypresses and noble oaks. The boys tumbling and wriggling in the grass per- 
petually exploded into guffaws of contagious laughter.- Many of the men were 
tall and finely formed. They had an intelligent look, and were evidently not 
so degraded as those born on the Louisiana lowlands. The overseer sat on the 
veranda of his house, now and then calling out a sharp command or a caution, 
the negroes looking up obsequiously and touching their hats as they heard his 
voice. When the mules were stabled the men came lounging back to the cabins, 
where the women were preparing their homely suj^per, and an hour afterward 
we heard the tinkle of banjos, the pattering of feet and uproarious laughter. 
The interiors of the negro cabins were of the rudest description. The wretched 
huts in which the workmen live seem to them quite comfortable, however. I 
saw no one who appeared discontented with his surroundings. Few of these 
laborers could read at all. Even those who had some knowledge of the alphabet 
did not seem to be improving it. 

Late in the evening, as the planter, with his heavy cloak thrown about his 
shoulders, was reposing from the fatigues of a wearisome ride over the broad 
acres, a delegation of field-hands came to see him, all to ask favors of " de 
Gunnel," — to get him to write a few letters, or to bring some tiny parcel from 
the town on his next visit to the plantation. The men came huddling in, bowing 
awkwardly, and stood with their caps in their hands as near the door as possible, 
as if ready to run on the slightest provocation. If I looked at them steadily 
they burst into uneasy laughter and moved away, while the black women in the 
door-way and on the porch re-echoed the merriment. Meantime the planter 
listened to one after another of the delegation. Charles, a black boy, six feet 
tall, and with sinews strong as steel, stepped forward to the flickering light given 
by the candles and the burning logs in the fire-place. 

300 "IHK I.I K KM Ksr nk(;ro." 

" Ciinncl, I wish you read me tlat letter, please, sah." 

The " Cunnel " read it, Charles meantime standing erect, with his <^rcat arms 
folded across his mighty chest and the massive column of his throat throbbing 
with scornful emotion. There was a strange, baffled expression in his face ; a 
look of contempt for his own helplessness which was painful. 

The letter was common-place enough, reproaching Charles for having left 
Alabama before liquidating the pressing claims of certain swarthy creditors. 
Having, after some trouble, deciphered the letter's meaning, the Colonel said, 
gently but coldly : 

"Stand aside, Charles. Andy, who is the likeliest negro from Alabama now 
on the plantation?" 

No answer for a minute. Andy stepped forw ard into the light, looking first 
into the fire-place, then at the deer's horns over the mantel, then at the shining 
revolver on the rough wooden table, while his immense lips worked nervously, as 
if endeavoring to draw in inspiration from the air. 

" Did you hear me, Andy?" 

" Cunnel, I 's a studyin', sah." 

After having studied some time, Andy darted out without a word, and 
presently returned with three hulking black giants, who huddled together in the 
same helpless way that the first arrivals did. They held their shapeless felt hats 
in their enormous hands, glancing from them into the faces of the white men ; 
then exchanging significant looks with each other, burst into the regulation 

" Did the colored politicians try to keep you from leaving Alabama to come 
here with me, boys?" inquired the Colonel. 

Intense surprise on the part of the negroes. 

" No, sah ; reckon not, sah." 

"Did you vote in Alabama?" 

" Yas, Cunnel; yas, sah, always voted, sah." 

"Can you do better here than in Alabama?" 

After mature reflection, the trio responded in the affirmative. 

"Would you care to vote here?" 

Hesitatingly, "No, sah;" whereupon the three negroes were dismissed into 
the darkness. 

The Alabama papers at the beginning of the current year reported that the 
colored laborers were leaving that State in troops of thousands. They were nearly 
all en route for the cotton plantations of Mississippi, and on the Louisiana bank 
of the Father of Waters. Central Alabama appeared at that time to be under- 
going rapid depopulation for the benefit of the richer lands along the Mississippi 
bottom. It was estimated in the spring of 1874 that Alabama had already 
lost from $700,000 to $1,000,000 in her labor element alone. How long the 
influx of the freedmen into Mississippi and Louisiana from the South Atlantic 
States and from Alabama will continue is uncertain. In 1873 Georgia lost fully 
20,000 of her able-bodied colored laborers, and gained but little in white immi- 
gration to balance it. 


The women and children on the cotton phmtations near the Mississippi river 
do not work in the fields as much as they used. Rude as are their surroundings 
in the little cabins which they now call their own, they are beginning to take an 
interest in their homes, and the children spend some time each year at school. 
The laborers on the plantations in Louisiana have sometimes been paid as high 
as thirty 'dollars per month, and furnished with a cabin, food, and a plot of 
ground for a garden ; but this is exceptional. 

While supper was being prepared the master of the plantation apologized for 
what he modestly called the homely fare which, he said, was all that he could set 
before us. 

"We are so far from town here," he said, " that we can offer you only plan- 
tation fare — rough meat and eggs, with bacon, a loaf of baker's bread, and 
some bottles of claret which I brought from Vidalia." 

I ventured to suggest that on the plantation he had every facility for a 
superb garden, and to wonder that the overseers did not employ some of the 
negroes to cultivate a plot of ground that its fruits might appear on the table. 

"Oh, oh," laughed the overseer. "Make a garden here; reckon it would 
have to have a mighty high wall ; the niggers would steal everything in it as 
fast as it was ripe." 

But I suggested that if each of the negroes had a small garden, which he 
seemed to have ample time after hours to cultivate, he would not desire to steal. 

The Colonel smiled gravely, and the overseer shook his head incredulously, 
adding : 

"These is good niggers, but stealing is as natural as eating to them;" and, 
with this remark, we were ushered into the supper- room, where two black servant 
girls ran nimbly about, bringing in plain but substantial fare, which our hard 
riding made thoroughly palatable. 

There was no white lady on the plantation. The overseer and his two assist- 
ants were busy from dawn till dark, and when night threw its shadows over the 
great cypress-bordered aisles of the forest and the wide expanse of the fields, 
they dismissed the negroes about the store and the stables and retired to rest. 
But on the occasion of our visit we saw unusual activity. A violent storm arose 
while we were at supper, and the overseers mounted their horses and rode off 
in different directions to inspect the levees. Troops of negroes were dispatched 
in skiffs along the lake with hundreds of sacks, which they were instructed to 
fill with sand and place at weak points on the levees. All night they fought 
the slowly but steadily-rising waters, while my companion and I slept on a mat- 
tress on the floor of the overseer's room, undisturbed by anything save the sighing 
of the winds through the noble trees surrounding the house, and the clatter of 
rain upon the shingles. 

With early morning back came the Colonel, pale and worn with a night of 
battle with the steadily- rising water, and, as he laid aside his heavy cloak, placed 
his revolver on the table, and sat down with a weary sigh, he said it was hardly 
worth while to try to be a successful cotton-planter now-a-days ; things human 
and things divine seemed to conspire to make it impossible to succeed. I 



thought of his sigh and of his helpless look a day or two afterward, when I was 
told that one thousand acres of his plantation hail been flooded and badly injured 
by the offensive policy of a neighbor planter, who had cut the Colonel's levees 
to save his own. 

With daylight also, although the rain was steadily falling, the plantation 
blossomed into activity. The overseers had arisen long before the dim streaks 
of the dawn were seen on the lowland horizon ; had galloped over many a 
broad acre, but returned gloomily, announcing that the land was too w'et to work 
that day. The negroes slouchingly disposed themselves about the store and the 
overseer's "mansion," keeping at a respectful distance from the kitchen, where 
sat the overseer himself, surrounded by his dogs. Nothing more dispiriting 
could be imagined than the atmosphere of this lowland plantation over which 
imminent disaster seemed breaking. From right and left came stories of trouble 
and affliction. Here and there a planter had made a good crop and had laid 

A Cotton Wagon -Train. 

aside a little money, but the evidences of material prosperity were painfully 
few. The overseers, while doggedly persistent in working the plantations up 
to their full capacity, still seemed to have a grim sense of a fate which over- 
hung the whole locality, and which would not permit consecutive years of pros- 
perity and plenty. 

There is still much on one of these remote and isolated plantations to recall 
the romance which surrounded them during the days of slavery. The tall and 
stalwart women, with their luxuriant wool carefully wrapped iij gayly-colored 
handkerchiefs; the picturesque and tattered children, w4io have not the slightest 
particle of education, and who have not been reached even since the era of re- 
construction, by the influences of schools and teachers; the groups of venerable 
darkeys, with their gray slouch hats and impossible garments, who chatter for 
hours together on the sunny side of some out-buildings, and the merry-makings 
at night, all recall a period which, the planter will tell you, with a mournful look, 
comprised the halcyon days of Louisiana. 


The thing which struck me as most astonishing here, in the cotton-lands, as on 
the rice plantations of South Carolina, was the absolute subjection of the negro. 
Those with whom I talked would not directly express any idea. They gave 
a shuffling and grimacing assent to whatever was suggested ; or, if they dis- 
sented, would beg to be excused from differing verbally, and seemed to be much 
distressed at being required to express their opinions openly. Of course, having 
the most absolute political liberty, because in that section they were so largely 
in the majority, numerically, that no intimidation could have been practiced, it 
seemed astonishing that they should be willing to forego the right to vote, 
and to willingly isolate themselves from their fellows. I could not discover 
that any of the negroes were making a definite progress, either manifested by a 
subscription to some newspaper or by a tendency to discussion ; and, while 
the planter gave me the fullest and freest account of the social status of the 
negroes employed by him, he failed to mention any sign of a definite and in- 
tellectual growth. The only really encouraging sign in their social life was the 
tendency to create for themselves homes, and now and then to cultivate the land 
about them. 

The rain continued to fall in torrents as we rode across the island along the 
muddy roads, under the great arches of the cypress-trees, on our return to 
Natchez. Here and there a few negroes were desperately striving afield, 
endeavoring to effect something in spite of the storm ; but the planter shook 
his head gravely, and said that all agricultural operations must now be two 
months later than usual. The lack of concerted operations among the planters 
against the inroads of the floods, and the disastrous consequences of an incom- 
petent labor system, were, to his thinking, effectual drawbacks to much material 
progress for a long time. In a previous chapter I have shown how the produc- 
tion of Concordia parish has fallen off" since slavery was abolished ; and he could 
not give any encouragement to my hope that this wretched state of affairs would 
soon be changed. 

At last we reached the arm of the lake where we expected to find our sable 
ferry-man, but the rain had washed the waters into quite a fury, and we could 
see neither ferry-man nor barge. Half-an-hour's hallooing at last brought the 
old man from his cabin on the opposite side, and another half hour brought him, 
dripping wet, with the gray wool of his beard glistening with rain-drops, to the 
shore on which we stood. He complained bitterly of his poverty, yet I was 
surprised to learn that each time the Colonel visited his plantation he paid this 
venerable boatman a dollar for his ride across the lake. Although I diligently 
endeavored to enter into conversation with the aged black man, he steadily 
avoided any reference to political topics, and assumed a look of blank amaze- 
ment when I appealed to him for a direct opinion. But he was always civil, 
courteous to a degree not discoverable among people in his rank of life in the 
North. His character swayed and bent before any aggression, but did not 
break ; it was as stubborn as elastic. 

In the forest through which ran the road leading to the Colonel's plantation, 
we met a brown man mounted on a stout horse, and loaded down with a 



small armory of fire-arms, in addition to which he carried a lon^ knife and a 
hatchet, evidently intended for dissectin^^ some deer. 

" Ha !" said the Colonel pleasantly, yet with a touch of annoyance in his voice, 

" so you are going poaching on my land again ? There will soon be no deer left." 

"Yas, Gunnel," said the fellow, impudently shifting his long rifle from his 

right to his left shoulder. " I reckon ef I see any deer I 's gwine to go for 'cm, 

sho ;" then, putting spurs to his steed, he galloped off. 

There was no redress, and the Colonel was compelled to submit anew to the 
plundering of his preserves. 

Driving homeward with my artist companion, the Colonel having left us to 
return to his fight with the levees, we were struck with the picturesque clusters 
of negro cabins by the wayside. Nowhere else in the agricultural regions of 
the South had we perceived such a tendency to an artistic grouping of buildings. 
Along the road, which was now so covered with water that we could hardly pick 
our way, a few uproarious negroes, with whiskey bottles protruding from their 
pockets, were picking their dubious way. As we approached they saluted us, 
touching their hats \vith sudden dignity. Everywhere in this lowland region we 
found the negro courteous more from habit than from desire. Even when he fell 
into the sullen silence which marks his supremest dissent, he was deferential and 
polite to a degree which made that silence all the more exasperating. I have 
never in my life seen a more gracious and civil personage than the weather- 
stained and tattered old negro who stood on a shelving bank by the lake- side, 
and carefully pointed out to us the best spots in the submerged road, as we 
drove through the little village of which he was an inhabitant. 

The local river packets, 
which depend mainly upon 
the commerce of the cotton 
plantations between Vicks- 
burg and New Orleans, are 
the only means which the 
planters possess of commu- 
nication with the outer 
world. The arrivals of the 
" Robert E. Lee," or of the 
" Natchez," at the planta- 
tion landings, always furnish 
picturesque and interesting 
scenes. We had occasion 
to journey from Natchez to 
Vicksburg, departing from 
the former town late at 
night. The negro hackman who was to transport us from the upper town to 
Natchez-under-the-Hill for the moderate sum of three dollars, bade us remain 
quietly in our rooms until " de Lee whistled." So, toward midnight, hearing 
the three hoarse yells from the colossal steam-pipes of the Robert E. Lee, we 

A Cotton - Steamer. 


were hurried down to the great wharf-boat, where we found a motley crowd of 
negro men and women, of sickly, ague-stricken, poor whites, and smartly-dressed 
planters, whose immaculate linen and rich garments betrayed but little of the 
poverty and anxiety now afflicting the whole section. 

Presently, out of the gloom which shrouded the great river, a giant shape 
seemed slowly approaching, and while we were endeavoring to discover what it 
might be, flaring pine torches sent forth an intense light which disclosed the great 
packet, with her forward deck crowded with negro roustabouts, whose faces shone 
as the flame was reflected upon them. The tall pipes sent out sparks and smoke, 
and the river-monster, which seemed stealthily drawing near to us to devour us, 
winked its fiery eyes and sleepily drew up at the wharf, where, with infinite 
trouble, it was made fast with many stout ropes, while the mates screamed and 
cursed as only Mississippi boatmen can. 

The cabin of one of these steamers presents quite a different aspect from 
those of the Northern packets which come from St. Louis and Cincinnati. The 
bar is a conspicuous object as one enters, and around it cluster eager groups 
busily discussing the latest phase of the Kellogg usurpation, or, in such times of 
depression and disaster as during my visit, lamenting their fate with a philosophic 
air doubtless somewhat enhanced by the soothing nature of the liquids imbibed. 

As the traveler goes to register his name and purchase his ticket, the obliging 
clerk hands him the latest file of the New Orleans papers, of which hundreds of 
copies are given away at all the ports where the packets stop. No planter along 
the line thinks of buying a newspaper, but depends on the clerk of the steamer, 
who willingly furnishes him the news of the day. 

About the card-tables men are busily absorbed in the intricacies of " poker" 
and " seven-up," and the talk is of cotton and of corn, of the rise and fall of the 
river, and reminiscences of adventures in forest and on stream during the " waw." 
On the " Robert E. Lee " I found a number of prominent young cotton-planters, 
all of whom were complaining of the effects of the inundation. Many of these 
planters were educated gentlemen, familiar with life at the North, and with the 
best society. None of them were especially bitter or partisan in their views ; 
their material interests seemed to cominand their immediate attention, and they, 
as others throughout the cotton country of the South, complained of the seem- 
ing impossibility of reorganizing labor upon a fair and proper basis. All were 
unanimous in their testimony as to the superiority of free over slave labor, but 
all asserted that it was attended with so many drawbacks and vexations that they 
feared it would end in the promotion of much distress, and in the ruin of hundreds 
of planters. They, however, were by no means confronted with the worst 
aspects of the labor question, since labor was flowing to them, and not receding 
from them, as from the planters in Central Alabama, and in certain portions of 

Mr. Robert Somers, in his excellent observations on the labor question, as 
viewed in Alabama, made during a journey throughout the Southern States in 
1870-71, hits upon some truths with regard to the relations of the planter and 
freedman, in the following manner : 

2o6 1' •< •• .s H A K !•: s V s r k m . 

"What the planters arc disposed ti) complain of is, that while they have lost 
their slaves, they have not got free laborers in ;iny sense common either in the 
Northern States or in Europe. One cannot but think that tlie New England 
manufacturer and the Old luigland farmer must be equally astonished at a 
recital of the relations of land, capital and labor, as they exist on the cotton 
plantations of the Southern States. The wages of the negroes, if such a term 
can be applied to a mode of remuneration so unusual and anomalous, consist, 
as I have often indicated, of one-half the crop of corn and cotton, the only crops 
in reality produced. 

" The negro on the semi-communistic basis thus established finds his own 
rations ; but, as these are supplied to him by the jilanter or the planter's notes 
of credit on the merchants, and as much more sometimes as he thinks he 
needs by the merchants on his own credit, from the ist of January onward 
throughout the year, in anticipation of crops which are not marketable until 
the end of December, he can lose nothing by the failures or deficient out- 
come of the crops, and is always sure of his subsistence. As a permanent 
economic relation, this would be startling anywhere betwixt any classes of men 
brought together in the business of life. Applied to agriculture, in any other 
part of the world, it would be deemed outrageously absurd, but this is only a 
part of the 'privileges' (a much more accurate term than 'wages') of the negro 
field-hand. In addition to half the crops, he has a free cottage of the kind he 
seems to like, and the windows of which he or his wife persistently nail up ; he 
has abundance of wood from the planter's estate for fuel, and for building his 
corn-cribs and other out- houses, with teams to draw it from the forest. He is 
allowed to keep hogs and milch cows and young cattle, which roam and feed 
with the same right of pasture as the hogs and cattle of the planter, free of all 
charge. Though entitled to one-half the crops, he is not required to contribute 
any portion of the seed, nor is he called upon to pay any part of the taxes on 
the plantation. The only direct tax on the negroes is a poll tax." Mr. Somers 
declares that he found this tax " everywhere in arrear, and, in some places, in a 
helpless chaos of non-payment. Yet," he adds, " while thus freed from the 
burden of taxation, the negro has, up to this period of reconstruction, enjoyed 
the monopoly of representation, and has had all legislative and executive power 
moulded to his will by Governors, Senators and Deputies, who have been either 
his tools, or of whom he himself has been the dupe. For five years," he con- 
cludes, " the negroes have been kings, lords and commoners, and something- 
more, in the Southern States." 

"But to come back," continues Mr. Somers, "to the economic condition of 
the plantations, the negro field-hand, with his right of half-crop and privileges as 
described, who works with ordinary diligence, looking only to his own pocket, 
and gets his crops forward and gathered in due time, is at liberty to go to other 
plantations and pick cotton, in doing which he may make from two to two and a- 
half dollars a day. For every piece of work outside the crop that he does even 
on his own plantation, he must be paid a dollar a day. While the land owner is 
busy keeping account betwixt himself and his negro hands, ginning their cotton 



for them, doin<^ all the marketing of produce and supplies, of which they have 
the lion's share, and has hardly a day he can call his own, the hands may be 
earning a dollar a day from him for work which is quite as much theirs as his. 
Yet the negroes, with all their superabounding privilege on the cotton-field, 
make little of it. A ploughman or a herd in the Old World would not exchange 
his lot for theirs, as it stands and as it appears in all external circumstances." 

I have quoted these excellent remarks, as they afford a glimpse into some of 
the causes of the discouragement which prevails among large numbers of cotton- 

Nothing can be more beautiful than the appearance of a cotton-field, extend- 
ing over many hundreds of acres, when the snowy globes of wool are ready for 

.Scene on a CUtt 

picking, and the swart laborers, with sacks suspended from their shoulders, 
wander between the rows of plants, culling the fleeces. The cotton-plant is 
beautiful from the moment when the minute leaflets appear above the moist earth 
until the time when it is gathered in. In June, when it is in bloom and when 
the blossoms change their color day by day, a cotton plantation looks like an 
immense flower garden. In the morning the blooms of upland cotton are often 
of a pale straw color ; at noon of a pure white ; in the afternoon perhaps 
faint pink, and the next morning perfect pink. It is noticed, however, that the 
blossom of the sea-island cotton always remains a pale yellow. When the flow- 
ers fall away, and the young bolls begin to grow, the careful negroes watch for 
the insidious approach of the cotton-worms, terrible enemies to plantation 
prosperity. There are many kinds of these worms ; they multiply with astonish- 


ing rapidity, and sometimes cut off tlie entire crop of whole districts. Their 
presence cannot be accounted for, although elaborate investigations into the cause 
of their appearance have been undertaken ever since l8oo, when they first 
appeared in tlic South. There is a popular belief that they come at intervals of 
three years in the same districts, and that their greatest ravages occur after inter- 
vals of twenty-one years. Their appetites are exclusively confined to cotton, of 
which they devour both the long and the short staples greedily. 

The planters buikl fires in the fields when they perceive that the insects are 
about to visit their crops, lu)i)ing to attract and destroy the moths which are the 
parents of the worms; hut in many cases this proves insufficient. When the 
cotton-worm appears earl> in the season there are usually three broods. If the 
fires are built exactly at the time of the appearance of the first moths, then their 
speedy destruction, preventing the appearance of the second and third broods, 
aids in limiting the ravages; but the remedies are rarely undertaken in time. 
The ally of this vicious destroyer of the planter's fondest hopes is the boll- worm 
moth, a tawny creature who in the summer and autumn evenings hovers over 
the cotton- blooms and deposits a single egg in each flower. In three or four days 
this egg is hatched, and out of it comes a worm who voraciously eats his way 
into the centre of the boll, and then, ere it falls to the ground, seeks another, in 
which he in like manner buries himself. In Central Alabama, in 1873, we 
were told that plantations were so devastated by worms that they seemed 
as if lightning had passed over them and scathed them. The bolls were, in 
many cases, cut down for entire acres as completely as if the reaper's sickle 
had been thrust into them. 

During picking season in the States of North and South Carolina, Georgia, 
Northern Florida, Louisiana, Alabama, and Mississippi, the southern half of 
Arkansas and the eastern half of Texas, plantation life is busy and merry. If 
the planter has made a good crop, he calls in multitudes of negroes from the 
surrounding country to help him pick. These laborers sometimes wander from 
plantation to plantation, like the hop-pickers in the West; but where labor is not 
scarce, an extra force for a few days is all that is required. 

By the middle of October the season is at its height. Each person is 
expected to pick two or three hundred pounds of cotton daily, and as fast as the 
fleeces are picked they are carried either in wagons or in baskets, on the heads 
of negroes, to the gin-house. There, if the cotton is damp, it is dried in the 
sun, and then the fibre is separated from the seed, to which it is quite firmly 

Nothing can be simpler or more eflective than the machinery of the ordinary 
Whitney cotton-gin. Its main cylinder, upon which is set a series of circular 
saws, is brought into contact with a mass of cotton separated from the cylinder 
by steel bars or gratings. The teeth of the saws, playing between these bars, 
catch the cotton and draw it through, leaving the seeds behind. Underneath the 
saws a set of stiff" brushes, revolving on another cylinder moving in an opposite 
direction, brushes off" from the saw-teeth the lint which was taken from the seed, 
and a revolving fan, producing a rapid current of air, throws the light lint to a 

■• O, I NN I N(i 

C O T T O N . 


convenient distance from the gin. The ginning of sea-island cotton is practiced in 
South CaroHna and Georgia, and requires the use of two fluted rollers, commonly 
made of wood, but sometimes of vulcanized rubber or steel, placed parallel in a 
frame which keeps them almost in contact. These rollers revolve in opposite 
directions, and draw the cotton between them, while the seeds, owing to the lack 
of space, do not pass through. 

Horse power is ordinarily used on small plantations in ginning cotton, while 
the great planters employ steam. But now a host of enterprising individuals 
have set up gin-houses in neighborhoods central to many plantations, and to 
them flock the many whites and blacks who cultivate one or two acres in cotton. 
The gins in these houses are usually run by steam, and many a man has made a 
small fortune in two or three years since the war by preparing the cotton brought 
to him from the country round about. Fires are frequent in these gin-houses, 

^- rr--^ /?/''- 

Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 

and sometimes the freedmen revenge themselves upon their ex- masters by send- 
ing their expensive machinery heavenward in a blaze. Such malice as this, 
however, is not common, although there are some instances of planters who have 
lost many thousands of dollars by the torch of the incendiary. 

After the cotton leaves the gin it passes to the press, where it is packed into 
bales. On small plantations these presses are worked by hand or by horse 
power, while on the great and finer ones hydraulic presses are common. On 
well-ordered lands the picking is, of course, over before Christmas, and the 
planters and laborers alike give themselves up to the jollity of holidays; but, as 
I have already mentioned, the sight of acres of unpicked cotton in January and 
February in some parts of the South is not at all uncommon. It is the most 
effectual proof of the complete disorganization of the labor system. 

One of the peculiar vexations which the planter suffers is the constant steal- 
ing of cotton by the negroes during picking time. They manage to abstract it 
in petty quantities ; and after having accumulated a little stock, they take it, if 



they live in the- vicinity of a city, to what is known as a "dead fall house," where 
a clever " fence," or receiver of stolen goods, buys unquestioningly whatever 
they bring. If they live in some remote section, they boldly carry the cotton 
to the local merchant, who receives it in barter, very likely before the eyes of 
the planter from whom it was stolen, and who knows that he has no practical 
redress. Most of the negroes on the plantati(»ns ha\e not the strong sense of 
honor which should lead them to consider their employers' interests as their own, 
and many of the merchants encourage them in their thievish propensities. 

Sixty-five miles below Natchez the Red river empties into the Mississippi. 
The recent improvements made by the (ieneral Government upon this river. 

The Red River Raft as it Wa?. 

under the direction of the Board of Engineers, in the removal of the raft of 
drift-wood, have given it new commercial possibilities. The raft, which was 
thirty miles long, had, for many years, rendered navigation north of Shreveport 
impossible. The sketch, which the kindness of one of the engineers who had 
been employed in the removal of obstructions placed at the disposal of our 
artist, will serve to show what the Red river raft was. The river runs through 
one of tlie finest cotton regions in the country, and, in its ample and fertile 
valley, immense quantities of cotton and sugar, grain and tobacco will, in future, 
be produced. Not only Louisiana, but Arkansas and Texas, have been directly 
benefited by the improvement of the stream. 




MISSISSIPPI and Alabama together form a mighty domain ; many an empire 
has been founded upon a less extent of territory than either contains. 
Both States have suffered a good deal from evils incident to reconstruction ; both, 
I believe, are destined to a recuperation soon to come, and to a wealth and posi- 
tion such as neither, in the palmy days of slavery, dreamed of Alabama, with 
her million of inhabitants, and Mississippi, with her nine hundred thousand, seem, 
to an European or Northern visitor, almost uninhabited. In each State there is 
still an immense tract of native forest. The railway lines, almost as numerous in 
Mississippi as in Alabama, run for scores of miles through woods and uncleared 
or unreclaimed lands. The slave-holders naturally sought out the best land to 
mass their negroes upon, and now the freedmen are settled there, rudely try- 
ing to work out the problem of self-government, a problem extremely difficult 
for the wisest community to solve, and, of course, utterly beyond the scope of a 
horde of newly emancipated negroes. There has been a marvelous widening 
and heightening of sentiment in each State, and something of national feeling is 
now manifested in both. A little money and consequent independence would 
enable the capable people to do a great deal, despite the encumbrance of the 
incapables. Mississippi has no minerals from which to predict a future growth ; 
but her splendid soil grows cotton superbly, and Indian corn, tobacco, hemp, 
flax, silk, as well as all kinds of grains and grasses. At one end of the State 
the apple flourishes ; at the other, one may luxuriate in orange groves and under 
the shade of the fig-tree. The sixty counties in Mississippi contain farms and 
plantations whose cash value, in 1870, was nearly $100,000,000. The rivers run 
south-west, to pay tribute to the mighty stream from which the State takes its 
name — save a few in the eastern section, which flow into the Alabama rivers, 
and thence reach the Gulf of Mexico. Property has fallen ruinously in both 
Alabama and Mississippi; the former boasted, in i860, a valuation in real estate 
and personal property, of nearly $450,000,000; in 1870, $155,000,000. Missis- 
sippi, at the outbreak of the war, had a valuation of $509,472,912 ; and in 1870, 
$154,535,527. The cotton production of Mississippi fell from 1,202,507 bales in 
i860, to 564,938 bales in 1870; and the wealthy planter vanished before the 
storm of revolution. 

Corinth, in Mississippi, with its memories of terrible battles, is at the junction 
of the Memphis and Charleston railroad with the Mobile and Ohio. There 
Beauregard once sat haughtily entrenched until Halleck's persistence in assault 

Russell & Struthers.N.Y. 


312 CO R I N J' M M K K I I ) I A N . 

drove him away ; antl there occurred that ^liastly encounter between Rosecrans 
and Van Dorn, which looms up, like a hideous vision, through the battle-smoke 
of our recent history. The land was as thoroughly camped upon as any in 
Virginia, and to-day the tracks of the contending armies are still visible, in the 
devastated timber and waste lands. There is good soil thereabouts. Located 
on so important a line as the Memphis and Charleston, Corinth is gradually 
gaining, and a few thousand bales of cotton annually go to market from its 
vicinity. A cotton and woolen manufacturing company, an extensive enterprise, 
with large capital, has been started near by. Pushing down the Mobile and 
Ohio railroad to Meridian, ])ast renaissant Okalona, which received such a terrible 
shattering during the war; j)ast tiny towns and villages where cotton bales, small 
wooden houses, and the depot, are'tlie j)rincipal features; along the rich prairie 
lands, world-famous ; over the pine slopes — one comes upon the rich wood- 
lands which fringe the country in which Meridian stands. From Okalona a 
branch line runs off to the new and thriving town of Aberdeen ; from both 
towns and their neighborhood large quantities of cotton are annually sent 
to market. 

Meridian, Mississippi, a new town in the woods, yet pretty withal, is the 
southern terminus of the Alabama and Chattanooga railroad, which runs through 
Birmingham, in Alabama, to Chattanooga, in Eastern Tennessee. At the time 
of my journey along the line from Birmingham northw'ard, the road was in 
the anomalous condition into which Southern railw^ays sometimes get; a condition 
in which no one knows, or scarcely considers it worth while to inquire, who 
owns it, so hopeless is the embarrassment. No tickets were to be had at the 
depot ; I was informed that it was uncertain whether there would be any 
train that night. "Reckoned the conductor ('captain,' my informant called 
him) was running the train, and making what he could of it." But the line 
is a remarkably fine one, and as soon as population comes in to support it, 
will be one of the great routes of the South. It passes, on its way north- 
ward, through Eutaw, Alabama, pretty in its bowers of shade trees; along the 
fertile prairies, with their underlayers of limestone; and crosses the Tombigbee 
river at a point where the whitish limestone bluffs are ranged in rows, form- 
ing high banks, as picturesque and imposing as the walls of an ancient temple. 
Here once was great wealth, and here toiled thousands of slaves. Now they have 
vanished ; so has the wealth, and the planter is left behind to worry along as 
best he can. Tuscaloosa, named after a valiant Indian chief of Alabama's early 
history, was for many years the capital of the State, and is the site of the State 
Lunatic Asylum, a United States land office, and many flourishing schools. 
The State University, already alluded to, has a group of handsome buildings 
on a commanding eminence not far from the banks of the Black Warrior river. 
Few students frequent it now, though there is some hope that it may be 
revivified as Alabama grows prosperous once more. Situated on the borders 
of both the agricultural and mineral region of the State, Tuscaloosa has 
always been interested in the mining of both the iron and the coal abundant 
near by, and the Kennedale cotton-mill, near the town, has been in prosperous 



operation since 1868. The Black Warrior* is a fine stream, and serves as a high- 
way for the transportation of coal and iron to Demopolis, and thence via the 
Tombigbee toward the Gulf Demopolis was settled in 1S18 by a colony of 
French imperialists whose devotion to Napoleon the First had compelled them to 
fly from hVance. Among them were many noted soldiers and ladies of the 
fallen Emperor's court. Many afterward returned to France, and but few of 
their descendants at present remain in Alabama. 

Scattered over the fifty-five thousand square miles which make up the State 
of Mississippi, there are but half-a-dozen towns of considerable size. It can 
readily support on its thirty-five millions of acres a dozen millions of people. 
Vicksburg, Natchez, Jackson, and Columbus are the principal towns ; the rest are 
villages, into which the trade created by the surrounding country has crowded. 

All the good lands are very accessible ; railroads run in every direction through 
the State. The Vicksburg and Meridian route runs from Meridian through Jack- 
son to the Mississippi river ; the New Orleans, Jackson and Great Northern gives 
the capital easy commi'.nication with New Orleans and via the Mississippi 
Central, which runs from Jackson to Grenada, and from Grenada through Holly 
Springs and Oxford to the Tennessee line, sends a current of Northern trade and 
travel through the State. Columbus, Mississippi, is an enterprising town on the 
Tombigbee river, in the centre of a rich planting region, and depends mainly for 
its support upon the shipment of cotton to Mobile. Vicksburg and Natchez 
have already been described in their relations to the Mississippi river and the 

* Tusca-loosee — meaning Black Warrior — was tlic Choctaw term for the river, and the 
town took its name from it. 


THi; MISSISSIl'IM CAI'lTOI, I'UHJ.K; H U 1 1-1)1 N(;s. 

country which contributes tcj their trade ; it remains, therefore, to ^Mve some idea 
of Jackson, the capital of Mississippi. 

first of all, Jackson is very pretty — a quiet, unambitious village of five or six 
thousand inhabitants, on the banks of the Pearl river, a charming stream, whic^ 
makes its' erratic way through lovely forests and thickets, and whose current is 
strewn with the tlrift-wood torn from them. At Jackson one begins to feel the ripe- 
ness and perfection of the far South; he is only twelve hours from New Orleans, 
and sees in the gardens the same lustrous magnificence of blossom which so 
charmed his e\'c in the Louisiana metropolis. The evenings are wt)ndcrfully 
beautiful, silent, imi)ressive. Reaching Jackson from Vicksburg at dark, I strolled 
along the half-mile of street between the hotel and the business centre of the 
town; there was no stir — no sound; one might as well have been in a wood. 
At last, encountering a mule-car, whose only occupant was the negro driver, I 
returned in it to the hotel, where I found that every one but the M'atchful 
clerk had retired. 

The State Capitol, a solid and not imhandsome building, the Penitentiary, 
the Insane Asylum, the Land Office, a fine Governor's residence, and the 
Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb and Blind, compose Jackson's public buildings, 
all well built and commodious. At the proper seasons, one sees in the long main 
street of the town, lines of emigrant wagons, filled with hard-featured men and 
women bound for Texas or "Arkansaw." These Lshmaels are not looked upon 
with any especial love by the inhabitants who intend to remain in their native 
State, and are often the subjects of much satire, which they bear good-humoredly. 
Hebrew names appeared to predominate on the signs; the Jews monopolize most 
of the trade; negroes lounge everywhere, and there are large numbers of smartly 

"At the proper seasons, one sees in the long main street of the town, lines of emigrant wagons." 

dressed mulattoes, or sometimes full blacks, who flit here and there with that con- 
scious air which distinguishes the freedman. I wish here to avow, however, that 
those of the negroes in office, with whom I came in contact in Mississippi,. 


impressed me much more powerfully as worthy, intelligent, and likely to progress, 
than many whom I saw elsewhere in the South. There are some who are 
exceedingly capable, and none of those immediately attached to the Government 
At Jackson are incapable. In the Legislature there are now and then negroes 
who are ignorant; but of late both branches have been freer from this curse than 
have those of Louisiana or South Carolina. 

A visit to the Capitol showed mc that the negroes, who form considerably 
more than half the population of Mississippi, had certainly secured a fair share of 
the offices. Colored men act as officials or assistants in the offices of the 
Auditor, the Secretary of State, the Public Library, the Commissioner of Emi- 
gration, and the Superintendent of Public Instruction. The Secretary of State, 
who has some negro blood in his veins, is the natural son of a well-known Mis- 
sissippian of the old regime, formerly engaged in the politics of his State ; and 
the Speaker of the House of Representatives at the last session was a black man. 
The blacks who went and came from the Governor's office seemed very intelligent, 
and some of them entered into general conversation in an interesting manner. 

The present Governor, ex-United States Senator Adelbert Ames, was four 
years Military Governor of Mississippi, and knows the temper of both whites and 
blacks in the State very well. To his military regime succeeded the Government 
of Mr. Alcorn, now United States Senator from Mississippi, and when Mr. Alcorn 
was sent to the Senate, Lieutenant-Governor Powers took his place. Alcorn, 
returning from the Senate last year, contested the Governor's chair with Ames, 
but, not succeeding in a re-election, returned to Washington. At the outset 
of Governor Ames' civil administration, Avhich began recently, he affirmed his 
determination to redeem the Republican party in that section from the charge of 
corruption, and the Legislature has taken measures to second his laudable resolve. 

Mississippi's State debt is but little — some three millions; she was fortunate 
enough not to have any credit in the markets of the world when reconstruction 
began, and therefore escaped a good many financial dangers. Her repudiation 
of her honest indebtedness, years ago, did her infinite harm, and it would be 
wise to take up that debt, and pay it in future. Part of the money at present 
owed by the State is due the schools. The State tax is not large ; it is the city 
and county taxation which is oppressive, but that is mainly because of the 
straitened circumstances of the people. 

The vicious system of issuing State warrants has been for some time pursued, 
but a bill was passed at the last legislative session, funding all these warrants ; 
which had the effect of bringing them up at once from sixty to eighty cents. A 
new law also requires that all taxes be paid in greenbacks. The State paper has, 
at times since reconstruction, been sold on the street in Jackson at forty per cent, 
below par. The return to a cash basis will, it is estimated, save twenty-five per 
cent, in the cost of government alone. A general movement in favor of 
"retrenchment and reform" on the part of the dominant party is manifest, the 
natural result of which will be the restoration of the State's credit. Governor 
Ames is firm in his measures, and is not surrounded, to judge from a brief look 
at them, with men who are inclined to misuse their opportunities. 

3 1 6 p R o i; R i: s s of education — n i ; w s i^ a p li r s . 

The State Superintendent of Education informed me that there are about 
75,000 children now in attendance upon the State schools, fully 50,000 of whom 
are colored. He believed that there was at the time of my visit $1,000,000 
worth of school property owned in the State, which proved a great advance since 
the war. In counties mainly Democratic in sentiment, there is formidable oppo- 
sition to anything like a public school system, but in those where Republican or 
negro officials dominate, schools are readily kept open and fully attended. The 
Superintendent said that he had in only one case endeavored to insist upon 
mixed schools, and that was in a county where the white teachers had refused 
to teach negro scholars. He had found it necessary to inform those teachers 
that, in that case, they must not attempt to keep the black children from the 
white schools, since he was determined that they should receive instruction. 

The school fund is quite large; there are normal schools at Holly Springs 
and Tougaloo; and the blacks have founded a university named after Ex- Gov- 
ernor and Senator Alcorn. It occupies the site of the old Oakland College near 
Rodney, on the Mississippi river, and receives an annual appropriation of 

A successful university has also been in operation in Tougaloo for several 
years. First-class teachers for the public schools are very much needed. Large 
numbers of very good private schools are maintained in the State by those 
citizens who still disbelieve in free public tuition. 

The University of Mississippi,* at Oxford, an old and well managed institu- 
tion, exclusively patronized by whites, receives, as does Alcorn University, an 
annual subsidy of $50,000 from the State, and its average attendance is fully 
equal to that before the war. It has been properly fostered and nourished 
by the Republican Government, and the motley adventurers in South Carolina 
might learn a lesson in justice and impartiality from the party in power in 

As soon as the funds devoted by the State to educational purposes are paid 
in greenbacks, or, in other words, when the. evil system of "warrants" is 
tlioroughly extinct, Mississippi will make sterling progress in education, and, in 
proportion, will grow in thrift, wealth and importance. 

Jackson has two flourishing newspapers. The Pilot being the Republican, and 
The Clarion the Democratic organ. Socially, the town has always been one of 
high rank in the South, although some of the rougher Mississippian element has 
at times been manifest in that section. The residence once occupied by Mr. 
Yerger, who killed the military Mayor of Jackson, shortly after the close of the 
war, because that Mayor had insisted upon the collection of certain taxes, is still 
pointed out to visitors. There are many charming drives in the town ; a little 
beyond it, the roads are rough and the country is wild. A garrison is main- 
tained at Jackson, and now and then the intervention of United States authority 
is necessary to quell disturbances in interior districts. 

The State has made efforts to secure immigration, but, like many other 
Southern commonwealths, finds it impossible to compete with the North-west, 
* Both this and Alcorn University have agricultural departments. 


and becomes discouraged in presence of the objections made by white laborers to 
settling within its boundaries. The south-western portion presents really fine 
inducements for the cultivation of cotton, corn, tobacco, sugar-cane, peaches, 
pears, apples, and grapes. In several of these south-western counties the yield of 
sugar has been one thousand pounds to the acre. The average yield of cotton is 
a bale to the acre. Fruit culture could be made a paying specialty throughout 
that part of the State. 

The rich stores of pine, pecan, hickory, oak, walnut, elm, ash, and cypress 
timber form also an element of future wealth. Those lands fronting upon the 
Gulf of Mexico offer, in orange orchards and the miraculous oyster-beds along 
the shores, rare prizes for the emigrants who will go and take thern. The counties 
a little remote from the coast are rich in a luxuriant growth of pine, and there 
too, the culture of sugar and the grape has already been successful. 

The stock- grazier, also, can find his paradise there ; and there the ample 
water power of the Pearl, the Wolf, the Pascagoula, the Escalaufa, the Leaf and 
the Chickasawha rivers can turn the largest mills. The average price of lands 
in the State, accepting the testimony of the Government immigration agent, is 
five dollars per acre. 

Life and property are probably as safe at present as in any other State 
in the South. The reputation of Southern Mississippi has not heretofore 
been of the best in respect to law and order ; but the State seems to be 
now entering upon an epoch of peace and confirmed decency. Mississippi has, 
undoubtedly, suffered immensely, in a material point of view, since the close 
of the war, but is now on the road to an upbuilding, and would spring into 
astonishing growth if the vexed labor question could only be settled in some 

An immigration to the Mississippi sea-board, where there is so much magnifi- 
cent timber, would be peculiarly advantageous to young men possessed of small 
capital. Pascagoula river and its tributaries give a water line thirteen hundred 
miles in extent through a dense timber region. Millions of feet of good lum- 
ber are now shipped from this section. The improvement of the harbor and 
the deepening of the channel at Pascagoula, and the elevation of that place and 
of Bay St. Louis into ports of entry, would greatly increase the trade of Missis- 
sippi in that direction. 

The people of the State have also long desired the connection of the Gulf 
coast with the central interior, by a railway line, and will demand it soon. Until 
it is accomplished Mississippi will, perforce, pour streams of commerce into 
Mobile and New Orleans, while her own grand harbors remain unimproved and 
empty. Meantime, the completion of the network gradually covering the State 
goes on ; and the Memphis and Selma, the Mobile and North-western, the 
Vicksburg and Memphis, the Vicksburg and Nashville, the Prentice and Bogue 
Phalia, and the Natchez, Jackson and Columbus roads are projected, and, in 
some cases, the routes have been partially graded. 

The Vicksburg and Nashville road has no very powerful reason for existence, 
as its projected line is intersected at equidistant intervals by three rich and 




powerful lines in successful operation ; and there has jjcen a good deal of opposi- 
tion to the surrenderinii^ to that road of the trust funds known as the three per 
cents., antl the ai,M-icukural land scrij), aniountini,^ in all to some $320,000. 

Alons^ the line of rail from Jackson to New Orleans there is much j^^rowth of 
substantial character. Mr. II. K. McComb, of Wilminf^^ton, Delaware, has built up 
a flourishing town not far from the Louisiana line, and named it McComb City. 
But the country is still niainl\- in a wild state, and one cannot help feeling, while 

borne along in the palace-car through 
forests and tangled thickets, that he is 
gradually leaving the civilized world 
behind. He imagining each village 
which he sees, like an island in the 
ocean of foliage, to be the last, and 
experiences a profound astonishment 
when he comes upon the cultivated 
and European surroundings of New 
Orleans. Northward, along the rail- 
way lines, it is much the same. 

All one day we traversed the line 
from Jackson to Memphis, coming to 
but two towns of any mentionable size 
in the whole distance. The others 
were merely groupings of a few un- 
painted houses built against the hill- 
sides, among the trees, and on the 
open plains. 

Plantation life is much the same 
in all sections of the State, although 
the methods of culture and the amount 
of results may differ. The white man 
and the negro are alike indifferent to 
a safe and steady provision for the future by growing their own supplies. 

The planters are nearly all poor, and very much in need of ready money, 
for which they have to pay exorbitant rates of interest. At the end of a year 
of pretty hard work, — for the cotton planter by no means rests upon a bed of 
roses, — both whites and blacks find themselves little better off than when they 
began, and feel sore and discouraged. The negroes migrate to Louisiana and 
Texas in search of paying labor, while the planters complain very generally 
of the scarcity of help. 

"The negroes migrate to Louisiana and Texas in search 
of paying labor." 



THERE was A delicious after-glow over sky and land and water as I left New 
Orleans for Mobile one warm evening in March, the month which, in the 
South, is so radiant of sunshine and prodigal of flowers. 

Nothing in lowland scenery could be more picturesque than that afforded by 
the ride from New Orleans to Mobile, over the Mobile and Texas railroad, which 
stretches along the Gulf line of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama. It runs 
through savannahs and brakes, skirts the borders of grand forests, offers here a 
glimpse of a lake and there a peep at the blue waters of the noble Gulf; now 
clambers over miles of trestle-work, as at Bay St. Louis, Biloxi (the old fortress 
of Bienville's time) and Pascagoula ; and now plunges into the very heart of 
pine woods, where the foresters are busily building little towns and felling giant 
trees, and where the revivifying aroma of the forest is mingled with the fresh 
breezes from the sea. 

The wonderful charm of the after-glow grew and strengthened as the train 
was whirled rapidly forward. We came to a point from which I saw the broad 
expanse of water beneath the draw-bridge over the Rigolets, and the white sails 

On the Bay Road, near IMubile, Alabama. [Page 321.] 

hovering far away, like monster sea-gulls, on cither side the railroad. The illu- 
sion was almost perfect; I seemed at sea. Along the channel I could see the 
schooners, and now and then a steamer, coming from the deep canals that run 



from New Orleans to Lake Pontchartrain, and communicate with Lake Borgne. 
At a little pine-built village, completely shrouded in foliage, and seemingly lulled 
to sleep b)' the murmurous song of the birds and drowsx' hum of the insects, a 
party of roystering negro men and \\'omen, carrying banjos and guitars on their 
shoulders, left the forwartl car. Suddenly my ne?<t neighbor said : 

"Did you see that white man tliar, 'mong the niggers, with a beaver on, 'long 
o' that big black wench ?" 

" Do you reall}- think he was a white man ? " 

"Yes, d n him ; p'r'aps his heart's black, though. Looks like that big 

nigger was his wife." 

Then the voice grumbled itself away into silence. 

This somewhat deadened the romance with which I was beginning to invest 
the journey — for the mystical twilight creeping on, the strange panorama of 
vegetation flitting before my eyes, the sudden transition from forest to Gulf shore, 
and the sombre calm of the horizon where blue wave seemed mutely kissing 
bluer sky, all combined to throw one into delightful musings. I retired to the 
platform of the Pullman car, and was once more giving way to the spell of the 
sunset, when a sharp voice behind me said : 

"Mobile bay lay spread out before me." [Page 321.) 

"Cap'n, can't you set inside, 'n let us shet the do'? The mosquitoes is gitting 
so they bite powerful sharp." 

Then darkness came treacherously and suddenly, as it does in that strange 
Southern land ; and we rolled rapidly through the edge of Mississippi ; past 
the pretty Gulfside towns, whither beauty and fashion fly in spring and sum- 
mer ; past inlet, across river, and turned landward to Mobile. 

The lovely bay on which the chief city of Alabama is located extends thirty 
miles inland to the mouth of the Alabama river. One of the most charming 
promenades near Mobile lies on the bay shore. Bowling merrily over the shell 
road one superb March day, T was impressed with the tranquil beauty of the 



spot. There was a light haze ; Mobile bay lay spread out before me, a dimly 
seen vision, the foreground dotted with masses of drift-wood brought in by the 
tide, and with the long piers running out to pretty bathing-houses. 

There was a strange and sleepy air of quiet about the place ; a tropical luxu- 
riance of sunlight and blossom, so curiously at variance with one's preconceived 
notions of March, that it was a 
perpetual puzzle ! A gentle breeze 
blew steadily inland ; it seemed 
perfume-laden. The tide was com- 
ing in. Here and there we had 
glimpses of long beaches as fine 
in their rounded sweep as Castella- 
mare, and massive magnolias, sixty 
or seventy feet high, threw noble 
shadows over the sheeny water, 
from which the haze gradually 
lifted. Vines, water oaks, and 
pines tall enough for the masts 
of Vikings' ships, bordered the 
way. Neat residences peered from 
rose-smothered gardens; a negro 
woman fished silently in a little 
pool made by the tide, never 
catching any fish, and seemingly 
content to regard the reflections of 
her own ebony face in the water ; 
a swart farmer lazily followed the 
mule-drawn plough afield ; urchins tumbled among the snags and drift-wood 
hauled up to dry ; and goats and kids lingered and skipped distrustfully on the 
knolls by the roadside. 

Here was a garden filled with arbors and benches in cozy nooks; in its centre, 
a latticed cafe, whose proprietor was opening soda bottles, and, barearmed, dis- 
pensing cooling drinks to customers sprawling on seats, with their faces raised to 
catch the inspiring breath of the sea. There was no whir of gilded equipages ; 
the long avenue seemed all my own ; I could almost fancy that the coast w^as 
mine, the islands and the light-houses were mine, and that the two negro 
hunters, loitering by with guns on their shoulders, were my gamekeepers, come 
to attend me to the chase. The delicate hint of infinity on the mingled wave 
and haze-horizon ; the memories of siege and battle awakened by the sight of the 
dim line of Blakely coast ; the penetrating perfume wafted from magnolias and 
pines; the soul- clarifying radiance of the sunshine, which industriously drove 
away the light mist, all conspired to surround me with an enchantment not dis- 
pelled until I had once more gained the streets of the town. 

We are indebted to Bienville, that prince of colonial guardians, for Mobile, as 
well as for New Orleans. He it was who, in 171 1, built the defense called Fort 

"A negro ri>hed silently in a little p 


MOIill.l., I'ASr AND I'RKSKNr 

Condc, on the present site of the town, and who gave the name of Mobile to the 
bay, because the Indians inhabiting- that section called themselves Mobilians. 
On the west side of the ba\' he at one time erected a fort called "St. Louis de la 
Mobile." l'"or half a century the present city ^\•as only a frontier military post, 
carr}-ing on a small trade w itii the Indians. It was French in character and 
sentiment, and although hut few of the (iallic characteristics arc now perceptible 
in the manners of any of its inhabitants, there are hints of the departed h^rench 
in the architecture and arrangement of the town. It fell into British hands in 
1763, b)' the treaty of Paris between Great Britain and France, and was too 
remote from the other colonies to succeed in doing anything against British rule 
during the American Revolution. 

After the British came the Spaniards, who drove out the former, and partially 
burned Mobile during the siege. In due time, as tract after tract was wrested 
from the Indians, the territory of Mississippi was formed, with Winthrop Sargent 
of Massacliusetts as Governor, and to this Government Mobile and its tributary 
country were accountable, after the departure of the Spaniards, until the 
thorough subjugation of the savage, and his expulsion from the Tennessee valley, 
and from his hunting grounds on the Chattahoochee, had opened the whole 
domain to the white man, and a portion of Mississippi territory was organized in 
March of 18 17, under the name of "Alabama." By 18 19, white settlers had 
flocked into the country in such numbers that Alabama was admitted to the 

Mobile is to-day a pretty town of 35,000 inhabitants, tranquil and free from 
commercial bustle, for it has not been as prosperous as many of its southern sea- 
port sisters. Government street, its principal residence avenue, has many fine 

mansions situated upon it ; the gar- 
dens are luxuriant, and give evidence 
of a highly cultivated taste. Superb 
oak-trees shade* that noble street, as 
well as the public square between Dau- 
phin and St. Francis streets. The 
streets and shops are large, and many 
are elegant ; but there is no activity ; 
the town is as still as one of those 
ancient fishing villages on the Massa- 
chusetts coast when the fishermen are 
away. Yet there is a large movement 
of cotton through Mobile yearly. A 
cotton exchange has grown up there 
within the last two years, and when I 
visited it, already had 100 members. 
The Custom -House— Mobile, Alabama. Mobilc aunually rcceives and dispatches 

from 325,000 to 350,000 bales of cotton, most of which comes from Mississippi, 
much of whose carrying trade she controls. Some of the cotton brought to 
Mobile goes eastward, but the mass of it goes to the foreign shipping in the 


*' lower bay." The port needs many improvements, and the Government has 
for some time been engaged in a kind of desultory dredging out there, but 
has not yet succeeded in affording a sufficient depth of water to allow large 
vessels to come directly to the wharves ; and the lines of artificial obstruction, 
built across the channel of the bay during the war, to impede the passage of 
vessels, have not yet been removed. 

In due time, with a revival of commerce and the development of the immense 
resources in cotton, coal and iron in the State, the channel through the bay will 
be properly deepened, and Mobile will have a wharf line along its whole front. 
At present, however, it seems that foreign captains rather prefer to have their 
ships loaded from small crafts which come twenty or twenty-five miles down the 
bay with the cotton, as they thus avoid port dues and the danger of desertion of 
sailors. It costs but twenty cents per bale to convey the cotton down the 
harbor, and the captains, anxious to 
get their lading and depart, have 
none of the customary port delays 
and exactions to complain of In 
1867-68, Mobile exported 358,745 
bales; in 1868-69, but 247,348; in 
1869-70, sent away 298,523 ; in 
1870-71, the number rose to 417,508; 
but in 1871-72, fell again to 295,629; 
and in 1872-73 was over 300,000. 
Of this cotton the greater portion was 
sent directly to Liverpool, the amount 
going northward yearly varying from 
80,000 to 160,000 bales. Down the 
Alabama river, from the rich but 
lately unfortunate country around 
Montgomery and Selma, come thou- 
sands of bales on the light-draft 
steamers ; and the river banks form one continuous line of cotton plantations. 
Nearly 400 vessels, employing 7,500 sailors, and having a tonnage of 275,000 
tons, are annually employed in direct commerce with the port. This cotton 
movement does not, however, make Mobile either especially rich or active 
as a town, inasmuch as, aside from a few manufactories of minor importance, it 
constitutes the sole business. 

The railroad connections of the city are excellent, and her citizens are anxious 
to improve them still farther. The New Orleans, Mobile and Texas line gives 
direct communication with New Orleans and Brashear City, the point of depart- 
ure of the Morgan steamships for Texas ; the Mobile and Ohio road connects 
Mobile with Columbus in Mississippi ; the Mobile and Montgomery gives it a 
highway to the State capital, and thence via the South and North Alabama road 
through the wonderful mineral region, to Decatur and Nashville. It is intended 
lo create a road from Mobile to Tallahassee in Florida, in due time, and the city 

Bank of Mobile and Odd Fellows' Hall — Mobile, Alabama. 


P E N hi A C O LA 1' O S S I H L li A N N K X A T ION. 

The Marine and City Hospitals — Mobile, Alabama. 

already has connection with. Pensacola, the most important of the northern 
Florida ports. All that section of the " land of flowers " contiguous to Alabama 
will doubtless be annexed sooner or later; there is a growing sentiment in both 

States in favor of annexation. The pres- 
- '' '« *^ <.'~*iL - . ent route to Pensacola from Mobile is 

roundabout ; one has to make a trian- 
gular detour from Mobile to Pollard, 
on the Montgomery road, and thence 
return coastward on the Pensacola and 
Louisville route. At present the only 
connection which Pensac(jla has with 
ICastern P'lorida is via steamers to St. 
Mark's, and thence by rail across the 
peninsula to Jacksonville. Pensacola 
has one of the most remarkable harboi;s 
in the world; it is thirty miles long, 
from six to eight wide, and nearly 
thirty- five feet deep. The average 
depth on the bar at the harbor entrance 
is twenty-four feet. Any ship, however heavily loaded, can readily approach 
Pensacola at any season of the year, and can reach the open sea in a couple of 
hours. The harbor is safe — differing in that respect from many of the Florida 
ports, and is amply defended by three 
forts in good condition. A naval sta- 
tion, and boasting a marine hospital 
and a custom-house, Pensacola, with 
its four thousand inhabitants, already 
talks grandly of its great future. The 
immense quantities of fine timber 
which grow in lower Alabama and 
upper Florida furnish the city with 
an extensive lumber trade. The com- 
pletion of the North and South rail- 
road gives it also almost an air line to 
Nashville and Louisville, and promises 
to make it in future one of the outlets, 
like Brunswick on the South Atlantic 
coast, for the trade of the West.* 

The Mobile and Montgomery 
road has done much for Mobile, plac- "^^'^y church -Mobile, Alabama. 

ing the town upon one of the main lines of travel across the country. Two 
excellent bridges span the Mobile and Tensaw rivers; the old and tedious transfer 

* In 1872, eight hundred foreign ships entered Pensacola harbor, and probably a thousand 
come there yearly. Few come save in ballast, their object being to procure outward freights of 
cotton and lumber. 



i ? 

In the City Park, Mobile — "Ebony nurse-maids fliit with their lovers." 

by boats is done away ; and to-day a stream of frci<^ht and travel passes through 
the city from North to South, bringing with it visitors and investors. The pro- 
jected "Grand Trunk" railroad has not yet made much progress. It is intended 
to give an additional route from Mobile to the mineral regions, and its completion 
would develop a large 
section of valuable coun- 
try. It will stretch four 
hundred miles into the in- 
terior, making new trade 
for Mobile, but it is not 
likely to be built at once. 
It has been completed to 
Jackson, fifty-nine miles 
from Mobile. 

Mobile does not rank 
as high, as a commercial 
city, as in the palmy 
days gone by ; but the 
peculiar advantages of 
her location, and the vast 
resources of the State 
whose chief seaport she 
is, can but bring her a good future. At present her banking capital is small, 
hardly aggregating a million and three-quarters, and outside rates for money are 
ruinously high. There is a large and increasing capital concentrated in fire and 
life insurance companies; the manufactories are all of minor importance, except 
the Creole and the Mobile cotton- seed oil works. Alabama produces nearly 
three hundred thousand tons of cotton-seed annually, of which fully one-half can 
be spared for sale. There is a similar prosperous factory at Selma. This industry 
may attain large proportions. Mobile has made active efforts to become one of 
the principal coffee markets of the Union, and claims that direct importation from 
Rio to Mobile is easier, less expensive, and more direct than to New Orleans. 
The retail trade of the city has been greatly injured by the establishment through- 
out the State of a vast number of new stores, where the freedmen on the adjacent 
plantations now purchase the supplies which they once bought in bulk in 
Mobile. There is some hope that the city may become the coaling station for 
the steam navigation of the Gulf The Cedar Keys and Florida railroad is the 
medium of shipping much cotton and other produce directly to New York 
from Mobile, which would have been diverted elsewhere were it not for this 
advantageous route. 

The construction of the proposed ship canal across Florida would be very bene- 
ficial to Mobile, in affording her a cheap water-way, while the South Atlantic ports 
must necessarily be restricted in growth by expensive railroad transportation. 

My visit to Mobile was in spring-time, when the whole land was covered with 
blossoms. The City park is filled with noble trees, in whose shade ebony nurse- 







maids flirt with their lovers and squirrels frohc with tiic chikh-en. 'ihc drive 
alonfj the quiet and sechided by-way to "Spring Hill" reminded one of the 
rich bloom and greenness of I'.nL^land, save that liere and there were semi- 
tropical blossoms. Climbing to 

the roof of the Jesuit college on 
'Spring Hill, I looked out over a 
lovely plain, once studded with 
beautiful homes, many of which 
have now fallen sadly into decay. 
A dense growth of forest still 
shrouds much of the surrounding 
country ; in the distance the faint 
line of the Gulf seemed a silver 
thread. Along the hills, over 
which I wandered, flourished all 
the trees peculiar to the far South, 
and the Scuppernong grape grew 
magnificently in the college vine- 
yards. The fresh and aromatic 
atmosphere of the woods, mingled 
with the delicate breath from the 

In the City Park, ^Jobil 

Sciiurrels fruhc 

sea, made it difficult for one to fancy that pestilence could ever spread its wings 
above Mobile. Yet there, as elsewhere, from time to time the death angel 
inaugurates his terrible campaign, and the citizens are compelled to flee to the 

Mobile bay is replete with historic interest. One may perhaps think, in look- 
ing out over its placid waters, of Iberville's colonists coming, in 1799, a motley 
and sea-stained gang, to land on Dauphin's Island, and finding there so many 
human bones, that they called it 
Massacre Island ; but one cannot 
forget the mighty naval battle when 
grim old Commander Farragut forced 
his way past the fire of Fort Morgan 
and Fort Gaines, whose Confederate 
guns were at all hazards to be silenced. 
One cannot remember, without a thrill, 
how one day the squadron, which had 
hung steadfastly at the mouth of the 
bay during three long years of war, 
transformed itself into a fiery antago- 
nist — a war-fleet, breathing forth fire 
and destruction ; nor how, after the 
admiral had fought his way with his 
fleet past the forts into the harbor, the 
giant ram, the "Tennessee," the pride Barton Academ>-p.Kb.k, Aiabcnm. 


aiul glory of the Alabamians who built her, stood out to meet her formidable 
foes, although she had seen the decks of all her other Confederate consorts 
transformed into slaughter-pens. One cannot forget how, even after the harbor 
was taken, and closed against the blockade-runners, the little city held valiantly 
out another twelve months, until the attack by Canby on the defenses along the 
eastern shore was crowned with victory, until the Spanish Fort and Blakely, Bat- 
teries Hager and Tracy were invested, besieged and taken. 

Mobile is the home of some Southern celebrities ; among them are Admiral 
Semmes, who lives peaceably and handsomely, following the profession of law; 
Madame Octav^ia Walton Le Vert, Augusta J. Evans, authoress of "Beulah" 
and one or two other ultra- scholastic novels, and General John Forsyth, ex- 
diplomat, and one of the ablest jour- 
nalists in the country. The Register, 
which General Forsyth edits, is some- 
times a little bitter in partisan politics, 
but altogether highly creditable to 
Mobile. The city is also famous for 
having inaugurated the masked secret 
societies, which have lately become 
such a feature of the Southern carnival, 
and which for several years held the 
field with the "Cowbellions" and the 
"Strikers," whose representations were 
always looked forward to with pleas- 
ure by the citizens of the Gulf coast. 
The Cowbellions, the . Strikers, and 
the ** T. D. A's," are New Year's Eve 
societies ; and among the Mardi-Gras 
companies are the " Order of Myths," 
and the " H. S. S." Not even the war and the depression of commerce have 
been able to deaden the jollity of the genial maskers. 

The home of many lovely women, Mobile has a thoroughly good society, 
cultivated and frank, and the assemblages of its citizens are as brilliant gatherings 
as are to be found in the country. There are no public buildings of special 
beauty; the Custom- House, the Odd Fellows' and Temperance Halls, the 
Catholic Cathedral, the First Presbyterian and Christ Churches, Mobile Col- 
lege, the Academy, the Bank of Mobile, are all pleasing structures, but devoid 
of any remarkable features. Both Catholics and Protestants have well-con- 
ducted orphan asylums ; in the numerous public schools the white and black 
children are pretty well provided for, education making progress as grati- 
fying in the city as it is meagre and discouraging in the country. Immigration 
and manufactures would make of Mobile one of the most attractive of Southern 
towns; it needs but a little aid to establish itself firmly and handsomel}'. The 
cemetery is somewhat dilapidated, yet filled with pretty monuments and those 
sweetest memorials of the dead — a profusion of delicious flowers. 

Christ eluirch — Mubllc, Alabama, 




THAT which chiefly astonishes the strani^cr in visiting Alabama is that the 
superb material resources of the State should have remained undevel- 
oped so long. He is told that, in a little less than a century, Alabama expended 
two hundred millions of dollars in the purchase of slaves ; had she spent it in 
developing her elements of wealth, she would have been to-day one of the richest 
commonwealths in the world. The extraordinary extent and nature of her min- 
eral stores, the fertility of her fields for cotton, the cereals and fruits, the 
grandeur of her forests, the length of her streams, and her lovely climate, will 
render her, after the dreary transition period is past, one of the most opulent 
of the Southern States. 

The expedition of De Soto through Alabama, three centuries and a-half ago, 
was among the most remarkable of his time. This brave Spaniard, with his 
little band, while pushing across the new and hostile country to the harbor at 
Pensacola, where ships with supplies from Havana awaited him, was attacked 
by swarms of warriors under the chief Tuscaloosa, at an Indian town, said 
to have been near the present site of Selma, and there fought one of the 
bloodiest battles of early American history. Turning his face northward and 
westward once more, he fought his way, step by step, to the Mississippi river, 
leaving the savages some ghastly memorials of Spanish pluck and valor, but 
having done nothing toward the colonization of the great territory later known 
as Alabama. 

One hundred and sixty-two years thereafter, another European expedi- 
tion appeared at Pensacola, but finding the Spaniards in possession there, cast 
anchor at Ship Island, and finally at Biloxi. Iberville, who had been com- 
missioned by France to found settlements on the Mississippi, planted the seed 
of the colonies, which Bienville brought to such abundant harvest. Slaves were 
introduced into Alabama, then a part of Louisiana, under the regime of John 
Law's great Mississippi Company, and rice and tobacco and indigo were success- 
fully cultivated. A little more than a century after the first French occupation, 
Alabama had nearly 2QO,ooo whites, and 1 1 7,000 blacks within her borders, and 
seemed springing more rapidly into development than most of the other States 
of the Union. 

The area of Alabama is 50,722 square miles, of which the cotton and timber 
regions comprise about 10,000, and the mineral section 15,000 square miles. 
The cotton-fields have been the basis of the State's wealth, and will continue 

Alabama's varied resources. 329 

one of her chief supports ; but to her minerals and manufactures must she 
look for that development of large manufacturing towns and wonderful increase 
of population which has marked the growth of other States, uniting, as she does, 
a superabundance of agricultural and mineral resources. It is supposed that not 
more than half the available cotton lands are at present under cultivation. From 
the rich Tennessee valley to the fertile Gulf coast there is such a combination of 
natural treasures as no country in Europe can boast. Alabama can produce all 
the grains and esculents of the Northern States, yet to-day whole sections of the 
State are dependent on the North-west for bread, because the foolish " all 
cotton" policy is continued from slave times. 

Lying at the foot of the Alleghany mountains, which, in the north-western 
portion of the State, bow their giant heads stupidly, and lean lazily toward the 
level earth, she possesses grand mineral beds, similar to those which crop out at 
intervals along the range through Pennsylvania, Virginia and Tennessee. Her 
river system is one of the noblest on the continent. It comprehends the Tennes- 
see, which courses through eight northern counties, and affords a fertile, 
although somewhat exhausted, cotton valley ; the Alabama and her tribu- 
taries ; and the Tombigbee, the Black Warrior and the Coosa. These are all 
navigable. The Chattahoochee river is the boundary line between Georgia and 
Alabama ; and in the lower part of the State several of the rivers flowing 
through Florida to the Gulf furnish navigation to the border counties. 

The improvement of the Coosa and the Cahawba rivers, so that they shall be 
navigable all the way from the mineral fields to their junction with the Alabama, 
is considered of the utmost importance. Some of the richest iron mines and 
coal-fields in the State are on the Upper Coosa, beyond its navigable portion. 
Surveys have been provided for under the reconstruction governments, but as 
yet little has been accomplished. The upper portion of the Black Warrior river 
drains the Warrior coal-field, and could be made of vast service in future. 

The opening of the Coosa river would give to the markets of Montgomery 
and Mobile the produce of a section of Alabama which now finds its outlet in 
Georgia, and it w^ould furnish the cotton belt of the State with cheap grain — a 
most important consideration ; while, at the same time, it will afford fine water 
power for manufactures. Mobile is anxious to become a grain depot, like New 
Orleans, for the corn trade of the West with Europe. The improvement of the 
Coosa river and of Mobile harbor would accomplish this. 

The needed opening of the Tennessee river, which I have alluded to else- 
where, would be of the greatest value to Northern Alabama ; and a canal from 
the Tennessee to the Coosa, cut through at a point where the streams are not 
more than forty miles apart, would give a continuous water line from the north- 
west to Mobile bay.* This would become one of the most popular and eco- 
nomical of national highways, and would be lined, throughout Alabama, with 
manufacturing towns. 

The timber region of Alabama comprises a belt extending entirely across 
the lower portion of the State, bordering on Florida and the Gulf. It is rich in 

* "Alabama Manuals." 


forests of long-lcavcd pine, and on the river lowlands grow white, black and 
Spanish oaks, and the black cypress. Cotton can be produced in the light, sandy 
soil of this section, but the gathering of naval stores is a more productive 
industry in these border counties. Between Mobile and Pascagoula bays many 
settlements are springing up, and enterprising young men from the North and 
West are sending millions of feet of lumber to the New Orleans market. The 
lands can be purchased for a trifle; and there are many .small bays and 
estuaries where vessels for any port in the world might load directly at the 
saw- mill. 

In the cotton belt, which also extends across Alabama, from the Missis- 
sippi to the Georgia line, there are many large towns which would, in hap- 
pier times, be flourishing, and whose appearance testifies to a long reign of 
wealth, elegance, and culture within their limits. Montgomery, Selma, Demopo- 
Hs, Livingston, Eutaw, Greensboro, Marion, are all inhabited or surrounded by 
planters who are, or have once been wealthy, and who have gathered about them 
fine private schools, libraries and churches. 

South-eastward through the cotton country, from the capital, runs the Mont- 
gomery, Eufaula and Brunswick railroad, intended as part of a gigantic line 
some day to be completed from Brunswick, Georgia, on the Atlantic coast, to 
Vicksburg, on the Mississippi ; and other lines are here and there projected. It 
often occurs to one that Alabama is indulging in an "overcrop" of railways, 
considering the abundance of her superb water-courses. 

The soil of the Alabama cotton belt is inexhaustibly rich. This is the testi- 
mony of all observers, native and foreign. That it has in some sections been 
forced, .so as to be, for a time, less productive than usual, there can be no doubt ; 
but with anything like decent care it will grow cotton as long as will the soil of 
Egypt. But there has been a terrible fall in prices, and hundreds, perhaps 
thousands, of planters have been utterly ruined. Good lands there once com- 
manded $50 per acre; those same lands now command possibly $10, in some 
instances $5. The enormous fertility of this section is shown by the fact that in 
i860, just before the slave system was broken up, it produced 997,978, almost 
1,000,000 bales of cotton, or one-fifth of the whole crop of the United States for 
that year. The planters there, as elsewhere, would prefer the free labor which 
they now employ, rather than slaves, if the free labor could be relied on to work 
with a view to getting as good results for his employer as the slave did for his 

There are, of course, great multitudes of negroes on these cotton lands, who, 
as a rule, labored w^ell, in spite of the savage reverses experienced by the whole 
planting interest of Alabama for some years, until the continuous disaster dis- 
couraged them, and they took refuge either in emigration or a precarious 
dependence upon the charity of others but little richer than themselves. But 
whatever may be the condition of large planters, or of the freedmen, who are, of 
course, more or less ignorant and irresponsible, there is no doubt that industrious 
and capable immigrants, settling in the cotton belt, and carefully cultivating from 
forty to fifty acres of land, with ten in cotton and an equal number in grain and 


provisions, could become wealthy. The main suffering-, which has been great 
in Alabama, has occurred because the people raised but little food. Relying 
entirely upon cotton, when that failed they found themselves penniless and starv- 
ing. This suffering does not come, however, save when the crops are absolutely 
destroyed by caterpillars or by rains. If the Alabama planters could succeed for 
a few years, they might have money to invest in the much needed local manu- 
factures, but at present they have none, and foreign capital does not flow to them. 
Going from Opelika, by rail, to Montgomery, I found in the cars the usual 
number of rough but honest folk bound for Texas ; a sprinkling of commercial 
Hebrews, who bitterly bewailed the misfortunes attendant on the failure of the 
cotton crop during two successive years; and some very intelligent colored men 
journeying to the Legislature, then in session. 

People generally complained of a desperate condition of affairs, consequent 
upon the crop failures, and spoke with bitterness of the poverty which had over- 
taken both whites and blacks. The lands around Montgomery were, every one 
admitted, wonderfully rich, but the caterpillar had devastated the fields as fast as 
the planter had planted them ; and the consequence was that many persons were 
not only overwhelmed with debt, but hardly knew where they were to get any- 
thing to eat. My visit to Montgomery fully demonstrated to me that these 
statements were in no wise exaggerated. 

Montgomery county, in which the capital of the State is situated, once com- 
prehended a large portion of Central Alabama, but now includes only eight 
hundred square miles. There are nearly three times as many blacks as whites 
within its limits. It has usually been considered first on the list of the agricultural 
counties of the State, and in the first rank in wealth. No section of the South, 
not even the wonderfully rich Mississippi delta, offers better soil for the growing 
of cotton and corn. The undulating prairie and the fertile alluvial afford every 
chance for the amassing of riches. Five great railways run through the town 
and the county, and the river navigation is excellent. 

It was difficult to conceive how this marvelous section had fallen into such 
decay that the market-place of Montgomery was filled with auctioneers presiding 
over sheriffs' sales, and that there was a general complaint of poverty, much des- 
titution, and, in some cases, despair. The citizens explained that the failure of 
the " crops " (the crops meaning cotton) during two years, and the arrival of the 
panic, had completely worsted them. The negroes employed by planters were 
discharged by hundreds when the panic came, and having, as a mass, no means, 
constituted a " bread or blood " populace, whose presence in the country was in 
the highest degree embarrassing. The Mayor of the city gave these unfortunate 
people charity out of his own purse for a long time, until other cities and towns 
rallied and sent in help. Stealing was, of course, frequently resorted to by the 
freedmen as soon as they were idle, and the whole country round was pillaged. 
Owing to the ravages of the caterpillar, Montgomery's tributary crop, which 
usually amounts to 60,000 or 70,000 bales, had fallen to one-third that amount 
Montgomery has a double historic interest as a capital, for it was there that 
the Confederacy first established its seat of government ; there that its " provis- 


■JUK STATE CAMTOl. Ml)Kr{;A(;li SAI.liS. 

ional congress" assembled lor two months; and the house occupied at that time 
by Jefferson Davis is still pointed out. The town is prettily situated on the 
Alabama river, and used to export 1 00,000 bales of cotton, much of which 
was floated down the current of the ^^reat stream.' As a manufacturing^ centre, it 
would be very advantageous, but, although Alabama has exempted manufactures 
from taxation, no effort has, as yet, been made there to establish them. Mont- 
gomery, therefore, a town of fourteen thousand inhabitants, with fair transporta- 
tion facilities, many elegant business blocks, fine churches, a good theatre, an 
elegant court-house, and a mammoth hotel, has a valuation of only $6,500,000, 
and its streets are filled with black and white idlers. 

If the negroes could be persuaded to show the same industry in manufactur- 
ing that they do in attending mortgage sales, the section would not lack capable 
workers. I was told in the market square that some of the negroes had come 
sixty miles — many from the mountains of Coosa county — to attend upon the 
sales, and on these expeditions were accustomed to be absent from their farms 
for days together. The plantations in all the adjacent belt were expected to go 

off at sheriffs' sales at the time of 

my visit. How many of them the 
original owners managed to retain in 
their possession, I know not, but I 
think the number must have been 

The Capitol building, crowning a 
fine eminence, from which one could 
get a view of the town spread out over 
the undulating country, was surrounded 
with the usual number of negroes, old 
and young, who seemed to have no 
thought whatever for the morrow. A 
few gray- headed Africans were seated 
on the gatew^ay steps as I went in. 
The Alabama State Capitol at Montgomerj-. and movcd lazily and grumblingly 

aside to let me pass. The colored legislators lounging about the lobbies, waiting 
for the session to begin, were of a rather higher type than those in South 
Carolina and Louisiana. There were a good many among them who were lightly 
tinctured with Caucasian blood, and all were smartly dressed and aggressive in 
their demeanor. 

When the " House " assembled, I went in, and found the honorable repre- 
sentatives engaged in a stirring battle over some measures which the Conserva- 
tives desired to pass before, and the Radicals to hinder, until the close of the 
session. The speaker, the Honorable Lewis E. Parsons, was the first provisional 
Governor under reconstruction, and remained in office until, under the new 
constitution, provision had been made for the election of a Governor and General 
Assembly in 1865. He is a good Republican and an honest man, and has done 
much in staying the tide of ignorance and oppression from overwhelming the State. 


Alabama, even after she was supposed to be reconstructed, flatly refused to 
recognize the Fourteenth Amendment, and was consequently remanded to her 
provisional condition as a conquered province, and Robert M. Patton, the suc- 
cessor of Governor Parsons, found himself under the supervision of the Brigadier- 
General commanding the district, of which Alabama formed a part. A new 
constitutional convention was held ; blacks carried over whites the adoption of a 
constitution in complete harmony with the requirements of Congress, and in the 
summer of 1868, William H. Smith became the Republican Governor of the State. 
Under his administration began the era of domination of the hybrid legislature, 
and it is not surprising that the State was shaken to its centre by the ensuing 
legislation. The Legislature was besieged by persons interested in railway 
schemes, and the State's credit was pledged in the most prodigal fashion. At the 
same time immigration to the State was hindered by the operations of the Ku- 
Klux and by the exaggerated bitterness of the white Alabamians, who did not 
seem willing to forgive the North for having forced negro suffrage upon them ; 
and in the counties where the negroes were in the majority there was the mis- 
management, turmoil, and tyranny which prevailed in other States of the South. 
In 1870, Robert B. Lindsay was elected Governor, but Governor Smith refused to 
vacate his office, on the ground that Lindsay had been fraudulently elected, and 
surrounded himself with Federal soldiers. Lindsay was, however, declared 
elected, and the State had two Governors and two Legislatures, until Governor 
Smith was ousted by a writ from the Circuit Court. Governor Lindsay was 
succeeded, in 1872, by David P. Lewis, who was in power at the time of my 
visit. The various railroad complications have somewhat impaired the State's 
credit, and Alabama has latterly found it very difficult to meet the interest upon 
bonds which she had endorsed for some of the new railroad enterprises. The 
Alabama and Chattanooga road, the Montgomery and Eufaula, the Selma and 
Gulf roads have all aided in the embarrassment in which Alabama is plunged 
to-day by the lamentable condition of her State indebtedness. 

In the House of Representatives the colored members appeared to have 
voluntarily taken seats on one side of the house, and the Conservatives, who were 
in like manner assembled on the other, were overwhelmed by a deafening chorus 
of " Mr. Speaker ! " from the colored side, whenever they proposed any measure. 
Sometimes the colored opponents would show that they misapprehended the 
attitude of their white friends, and then long and wearisome explanations and 
discussions were entered upon, enlivened only by an occasional outburst of a 
dusky member, who fiercely disputed the floor with his ex-master, and whose 
gestures were only equaled in eccentricity by his language. The Senate was a 
more dignified body ; in it there were some gentlemen of distinguished presence 
and considerable eloquence. 

But at Montgomery, as elsewhere throughout the reconstructed States, it was 
easy to see that ignorance and corruption had done much to injure the morale of 
the State. The worst feature observable was a kind of political stagnation in the 
minds of the white people — a mute consent to almost any misfortune which 
might happen. This was more dreadful and depressing than the negro igno- 




rancc. I do not mean to have it inferred that the wliites in Alabama are all 
educated. The ignorance of the poorer white classcjs in the country is as dense 
as that of the blacks ; and there is evidence of rough and reckless manners 
of living. Nothing but education and a thorough culture of the soil — a genuine 


farming — will ever 
build up the broken 
fortunes of this once 
wealthy section of 
Alabama. Coming 
down from the 

The Market-place at Montgomery, Alabama. 

Capitol, one sunlit 
autumn morning, I 
was fairly amazed 
at the great congre- 
gation of idle ne- 
ofroes in the market 

square. They were squatted at corners ; they leaned against walls, and cowered 
under the canvas of the huge country wagons; they chattered like magpies at the 
shop doors, and swarmed like flies around the cheap and villainous grog-shops 
which abounded. No one was at work ; none had any thought for the morrow. 
Those with whom I stopped to converse " cursed their dull fate " in the mild, 
deprecatory manner peculiar to the African. Their descriptions of the caterpillar, 
who feeds upon the leaves of the cotton plant, and of its able assistant, the boll- 
worm, who buries himself inside the cotton-boll, and feeds on it until it is entirely 
gone, were graphic and amusing, but it would require almost countless pages 
to translate them here. 

The strip of country extending between the cotton and mineral regions, and 
running from the north-east to the middle and eastern part of the State, is 
admirably adapted both to agriculture and manufactures. Opelika, Wetumpka, 
Centerville, Tuscaloosa, Scottsville, Prattsville, Tallassee, Autaugaville, and other 
flourishing towns, are located in it. It is traversed by the Selma and Rome, 
the Montgomery and West Point, the South and North, and the Alabama and 
Chattanooga railroads. 

Lying directly on the high road between New York and New Orleans, and 
traversed by rivers flowing from the mountains over many rocky barriers toward 
the lowlands, — thus forming innumerable falls suitable for maufacturing power, — 
it has already attracted much attention, and many factories are established 
within its limits. A number of prosperous factories were destroyed during the 
war; but the extensive cotton-mills at Tallassee, on the Tallapoosa river, the 


Granite factory in Coosa county, the mills in Prattsviile, and the Bell factory 
near Huntsville, all demonstrate the success which mi<;ht attend similar new 

It is observed that, in spite of the cheapness of labor in England, Alabama 
manufacturers will soon be able to take cotton from adjacent plantations, spin 
it into yarn, and sell it in England at a greater profit than the English 
manufacturer, who buys American cotton in Liverpool and makes it into yarn 
in England, can ever obtain.* The advantage of the water power in such States 
as Alabama over the steam power necessarily employed in Great Britain is very 

The crying need of the State is capital ; she is like so many of her neighbors, 
completely broken by the revolution, and unable to take the initiative in measures 
essential to her full development. With capital operating beneficently, Alabama 
could so bring her cheap cotton, cheap coal, cheap iron, and cheap living, to bear, 
as to seize and firmly retain a leading position among manufacturing States. 

North of the manufacturing region, and extending i6o miles from north-east 
to south-west, is the mineral region of the State. Railroads traverse it in all 
directions ; the South and North binds it to Montgomery, and gives it an outlet 
toward Nashville and Louisville, via Decatur ; the Alabama and Chattanooga 
gives it easy access to the rolling-mills of Chattanooga ; the Selma, Rome and 
Dalton cuts through it to connect with the Kennesaw route to New York. It is 
as yet in many respects a wild country, sparsely populated, and rough in appear- 
ance. In one day's journey along the line of the North and South railroad, I saw 
hardly any town of considerable size ; in the forest clearings there were assem- 
blages of rough board houses, and brawny men and scrawny women looked from 
the doors ; now and then we passed a coal-shoot, and now long piles of iron ore. 
There was little of interest save the material fact of the abundant riches of this 
favored section. The mountains were nowhere imposing ; they were hump- 
backed and overgrown ; but they held, it was easy to see, mighty secrets. 

There are three distinct coal-fields in the carboniferous formation, which, 
with the Silurian, shares all but the south-east corner of this mineral region. 

The most extensive is the Warrior field, which has an area of three thousand 
square miles of a bituminous soft coal, lying in horizontal beds from one to four 
feet thick. It covers that portion of the State drained by the Black Warrior 
river and its tributaries, and extends quite into the north-eastern corner, between 
Lookout mountain and the Tennessee river. The field along the Cahawba river 
has beds from, one to eight feet thick, extending over an area of 700 square miles. 
The Tennessee field, north of the Tennessee river, has large stores of bituminous 
coal, and the three together cover 4,000 square miles. Close beside them, from 

* There are now a dozen prosperous cotton factories in Alabama, in its middle and northern 
portions. The Tallassee mills have 18, ooo spindles; two at Prattsviile have 4,oao each ; and 
others, averaging about the same, at Huntsville, Florence, Tuscaloosa, Autaugaville, and in 
Pickens county, are prosperous. These mills regularly pay large dividends ; it is not uncommon 
for cotton-mills in the South to pay twenty per cent., and twelve to fifteen is the average. 
White labor exclusively is employed. 


north-east to south-west, run beds of red and brown hematite, and Umestonc and 
sandstone arc near at hand. The South and North railroad runs through the 
Warrior coal-field for more than fift>' miles. It is surprising that, with such 
superb facilities for transportation, more has not been done toward the devel- 
opment of this section. Grand highways run in all the principal directions 
across iron-beds ; a few branch tracks only being needed to cover every square 
mile with a network of communication. 

I made a journey to Birmingham, the four-year-old child of the mineral 
development, and was surprised to note how soHdly it had grown up. The roiite, 
from Montgomery to within a few miles of Calera, where the Sclma, Rome and 
Dalton road crosses the South and North, lay through forests of yellow pine. 
We saw few farms and but little cleared land. A little above Calera, we came 
into the Coosa river section. That stream runs to the eastward of the railroad, 
and for many miles offers excellent sites for the establishment of manufactures. 
Lime-kilns are to be seen scattered all through the country ; one hundred and 
fifty thousand barrels of lime being annually made, it is said, at and near Calera. 
The blue limestone of the silurian formation, so abundant there, is especially 
valuable. The road also traverses the zone of the deposits of fibrous brown 
hematite, extending north-easterly from Tuscaloosa, where it is said to be a 
hundred feet thick. On this ore belt several prosperous furnaces — the Roup's 
Valley, the Briarfield, the Shelby, and the Oxford — are located. An able 
engineer, Mr. Hiram Haines, of Alabama, says that the cost of the reduction of 
this iron at these furnaces is about twenty dollars per ton. 

Crossing the Cahawba coal-field, and Red mountain, which forms the western 
boundary, I came into the valley of Shades creek, which presents a very advan- 
tageous position for the location of iron works. Here are the Red Mountain and 
Irondale Iron Works, whose furnaces can produce forty tons daily. The vast 
bed of fossiliferous ore which extends along the northern ridge of Red mountain 
runs from a point a score of miles east of Tuscaloosa to the north-eastern limit of 
the State. Where the railway crosses it, it is thirty feet in thickness. Like 
its famous compeer in Missouri, the " mountain " hardly merits its name, being 
simply an elevated ridge. The ore is everywhere easily accessible ; I noted from 
point to point very successful excavations close to the railroad. The "mountain" 
is said to be one hundred miles in length, and it is estimated that it bears fifteen 
million tons of iron ore to the mile. 

The Pennsylvania iron-masters have not allowed this ore to go unnoticed, and 
the English have made it an especial study. A little beyond the gap which 
allows the railroad to leave the coal-field, the projected route of the Mobile Grand 
Trunk road crosses the South and North ; and, a short distance farther on, at 
the intersection of the Alabama and Chattanooga with the South and North, 
the town of Birmingham has sprung into a praiseworthy activity. In eighteen 
months from the date of building the first house there was a permanent 
population of four thousand people. The town was handsomely laid out in 
streets lined with imposing brick blocks, and the two finely built railways run- 
ning through it brought to it crowds of daily visitors. If the development of the 


South justifies the building of the proposed route from Atlanta, Georgia, through 
Birmingham to connect with the Southern Trans-Continental ; of the connecting 
link from Opelika north- westerly through Birmingham to the Tennessee at Pitts- 
burg Landing ; of the Grand Trunk road, and the Ashley branch of the Selma, 
Rome and Dalton road, giving a short line from the coal and iron country to the 
Gulf — the new mineral capital will be indeed fortunate ! 

Birmingham is very centrally located in the mineral region, which comprises 
most of Shelby, Jefferson, Bibb, Walker, Tuscaloosa, Blount, St. Clair, Calhoun, 
Talladega, Randolph, and Cherokee counties. Red mountain seems to have 
been pushed above the unattractive soil in these rude fields as a beacon, and 
a temptation to explorers. It looms up in Jones's valley, the site of Birming- 
ham, as the creator and guardian of the little city's destinies, and offers its 
treasures freely to the miner, the iron being covered with but a thin coating of 
soil. The Red mountain ores have a usual yield of fifty to fifty-eight per cent; 
and this mountain stretches, a narrow strip, for miles and miles, between two 
of the most wonderful coal-beds on the continent! 

On my arrival at Birmingham, one afternoon, I found the good Mayor of the 
little city in bed, he, with other citizens, having been engaged all the previous 
night in quelling a negro riot, caused by the discontent and pressing necessities 
of the inhabitants of the back-country. An armed band of blacks, had ridden 
into the town, and some fires had been started in a low quarter, evidently with 
the design of diverting attention to the conflagration while the provision stores 
were robbed. But the citzens succeeded in capturing the would-be robbers, and 
providing them with food and lodging in jail. This incident served to show the 
really hazardous position in which the negro is placed in some portions of the 
State. Untoward circumstances and outside financial pressure leave him abso- 
lutely without anything to eat ; for he depends almost entirely on the outer 
world for his supplies. 

Birmingham lies in the centre of a charming valley about ten miles wide, 
and about eighty miles in length. It is, perhaps, six hundred feet above 
the sea-level, and the valley is supposed to be the result of a vast upheaval 
of the Silurian rocks, which upheaval or convulsion was evidently instrumental 
in. dividing what was one huge coal-field into several. Another result of the 
rupture is a range of hills running down the centre of the valley, and contain- 
ing deposits of brown hematite. Along the slope of the Red mountain there 
is a notable outcrop of variegated marble and sulphate of barytes, and lead 
ores are scattered throughout the neighborhood. The hematites on the north- 
eastern slope of the Red mountain are exposed for a thickness of from fifteen 
to twenty-five feet ; and many believe that a complete examination will show 
deposits one hundred feet thick. Here is a supply of iron for centuries to come ; 
but Birmingham does not depend on the Red mountain alone. To the west, 
the north-west, and the north, there are fine deposits of ore, situated close to 
coal unsurpassed in quality for the manufacture of iron. The Elyton Land 
Company, which owned extensive tracts in Jones's valley, took the initiative in 
building Birmingham, and succeeded so well that the little town is expected to 

338 !• Aiii.ri 1 IS lOK MiNiNc;. 

have a cotton factory and extensive car shops, as well as to be [girdled by a ring 
of iron-furnaces. In the vicinity there are already numerous furnaces. Pennsyl- 
vania iron-masters are developing Irondale; the Red Mountain Iron Works are 
undergoing revival, after a long sleep since the war; and the largest Southern 
and luiglish firms interested in iron manufacture are investigating the resources 
of Alabama iron tracts. The coal interests arc receiving eqvial attention, and 
shafts have been sunk in the Warrior and Cahawba fields. The Irondale and 
Ironton furnaces are undoubtedly the most extensive on Red mountain, the two 
together producing about forty tons of pig-iron daily, while the Alabama Iron 
Compan)-, located seventeen miles above Birmingham, is yearly sending North 
great quantities of ore. All the way from Jefferson county, through St. Clair, 
until it loses itself in the Lookout range, the Red mountain carries abundant 
stores. In Cherokee, Calhoun and Talladega counties, within easy reach of 
the Selma, Rome and Dalton railroad, there are furnaces in operation. At the 
Shelby Iron W^orks, in Shelby county, there is an extensive foundry for working 
up the famous "brown ore." The Briarficld Iron Works, in Bibb county, 
are also famous, and in Clay county it is believed that there are sufficient 
indications of magnetic ore to justify the establishment of furnaces. It is evident 
that a large town is to arise at some point in this region, and Birmingham seems 
to have secured the precedence. 

The stores of copper and marl in Alabama are quite remarkable. In Ran- 
dolph, Clay and Coosa counties, copper has been mined successfully, and lead 
has been found in Baker county. Gold has been mined from time to time since 
1843, in Eastern Alabama, being found in small quantities. Silver shafts are said 
to have been sunk there by Dc Soto. The marble, granite and slate quarries of 
the State are rich, and will furnish cheap material for future cities, when the iron 
interest shall begin to build them. Of tin, plumbago, fire-clay, and kaolin and 
lime, there are abundant stores. The marls of Alabama are expected, in due 
time, to furnish a very important branch of industry. They contain properties 
of the highest fertilizing character when applied to worn-out lands, and offer the 
sections of the State which have been overworked under the old planting system 
a chance of renewal. 

It is certain that large manufacturing communities are to spring up within the 
next few years, in the mineral region of Northern and North-eastern Alabama. 
The facility with which iron, coal and limestone can be reached, mined, and sent 
to furnaces or to market ; the cheapness of labor and land, and the facilities for 
intercommunication, both by rail and water, are great recommendations. The 
iron ores are so rich, and such fine steel can be readily made from them, that 
they are certain to tempt capitalists to unearth them. The manufactured iron 
can be produced at about the same price as that of the cheapest regions in 

The Alabama and Chattanooga railroad, consolidated from several lines, and 
purchased by a number of Boston capitalists, runs through the beautiful Wills' 
valley, near Chattanooga, and will, doubtless, draw much of the mineral interest 
of the Alabama district toward that city. 



THERE is much of quiet beauty in Northern Alabama, much also that is bold, 
rugged, even grand. The Tennessee valley seems to combine the love- 
liest characteristics of a Northern, with all the fragrant luxuriance and voluptu- 
ousness of a Southern climate. Here and there arise grand mountains ; one 
encounters rapids and noisy waterfalls ; vast stretches of forest ; huge areas 
covered by ill-kept and almost ruined plantations, where the victims of the revo- 
lution are struggling with the mysteries of the labor question, and the changing 
influences of the times. The Memphis and Charleston railway, which runs 
through this valley from Chattanooga, and which is the connecting link in the 
great through route from the Mississippi to the Atlantic ocean, has done much in 
developing the country, but does not seem to have increased population to any 
large degree. There are some handsome and thriving towns along its line ; 
pretty Huntsvillc, Decatur, Tuscumbia with its miraculous spring, and Florence, 
Tuscumbia's near neighbor, at the present head of navigation on the Tennessee, 
with its cotton factory, are all indications of the beauty and vivacity which 
this section will boast when new people come in. At Stevenson, whither the 
Nashville and Chattanooga railroad comes in its search for a passage through the 
apparently impassable mountains, the beauty of the great ranges is indescribable. 
The red loam of the valley will produce the best of cotton and corn, rye and bar- 
ley, and small farmers, in this favorable climate, and with sortie little capital to 
start upon, could once more give this section its old name of "the garden of the 
South." The large plantations are much neglected, in many cases ruined; the 
planters are discouraged, and the negroes perplexed and somewhat demoralized 
by the great changes of the past few years. There has undoubtedly been a large 
falling off in the amount of cotton production in this section of Alabama, since 
the close of the war ; and as the trail of the armies through it was marked with 
blood and fire, it is, perhaps, not very astonishing that the delay in restoration 
has been so great. If any portion of the South needs a total renewal of its 
population, it is this one ; and an influx of Northern or foreign farmers would 
build it up in a short time. 

Inasmuch as the Tennessee river passes through the entire breadth of North 
Alabama from east to west, the State is as much interested as Tennessee in the 
opening of navigation at Muscle Shoals, feeling convinced that the manufacturing 
interests at Florence would be revivified, that the valley would thus secure a 
cheap transportation route to market, and that the carrying of minerals, especially 
coal, w">uld be made one of the great businesses of the section. 


Huntsvillc has the honor of bcin^^ the county scat of the richest agriciiUural 
county in the Tennessee valley, and is noted as the location of the convention 
that formed the State constitution, as the seat of the first Le<^nslature of the com- 
monwealth, and the place at which the first Alabama newspaper was issued. 
The city, which has some five thousand inhabitants, sits upon a low hill, from 
whose base gushes out a limestone spring, ample enough to supply the popula- 
tion with water. Through this country the weight of war was felt heavily ; the 
people of Huntsville suffered much, and the devastation in the country, caused 
by both armies, was very great. Huntsville has some fine schools for young 
ladies ; the Greene Academy, a resort of great numbers of the young men of 
Tennessee, was destroyed during the war by the Union troops. 

Decatur was nearly submerged when I saw it, so that I can hardly attempt a 
description. Rain poured heavily down ; the Tennessee, on whose south bank 
the town lies, was rampant, and the railroad seemed running through a lake. 
From Decatur toward Nashville, Tennessee, the railway route leads through a 
wild, hilly country, where the land is not especially good. Tuscumbia also 
suffered greatly in war time. It is noted for a spring, like Huntsville, but that of 
Tuscumbia is of pure freestone water, and springing from the plain in which the 
town is built, discharges 17,000 cubic feet of water every minute. Florence is 
connected with Tuscumbia by a branch of the Memphis and Charleston road, 
and was once a formidable commercial rival to Nashville. It was hindered by 
the war from completing the fine manufacturing enterprises which it was inaugur- 
ating, but is now making new efforts to centralize cotton spinning there. The 
Wesleyan University and the Synodical Institute, flourishing institutions, are 
located at Florence. 

Farmers, and real farming, — not a loose planting and dependence on cotton, — 
are the principal needs of this section of the Tennessee valley. 

The people of Alabama are as varied as is the topography of their lovely 
State, but most of them distinguished for frankness and generosity of character. 
It is a land of beautiful women ; one even now and then sees among the 
degraded poor whites, who "dip snuff" and talk the most outrageous dialect, 
some lovely creature, who looks as poetic as a heathen goddess, until one hears 
her speak, or she pulls from her pocket a pine stick, with an old rag saturated 
in snuff wrapped around it, and inserts it between her dainty lips. 

Here and there, in my journeys up and down the State, I saw the tall, long- 
haired, slender men who were so common a sight in the Alabama regiments 
during the war, and whose extraordinary height sometimes puzzled even the 
giants from Maine and Minnesota. The countrymen in the interior districts were 
much like those all through the cotton districts, bounded, prejudiced and ignorant 
of most things outside the limits of their State ; difficult to drive into any con- 
clusion, but easy to lead ; generally conciliatory in their demeanor toward 
Northerners, but possessed of some little distrust of their alert and earnest ways. 
The gentlemen of means and culture whom I met were charming companions,, 
and usually accomplished. They had the flavor of the country gentleman, and 
much of his repose, with the breeding and training of city hfe. 


Of course I encountered many bitter people — men who were not at all friendly 
toward the North, and who declared that they were dissatisfied with the present 
condition of affairs; who cursed the negro, their own fate and the Federal Admin- 
istration ; but these were certainly the exceptions. The citizens of Alabama, as 
a mass, are as loyal to the idea of the Union to-day as are the citizens of New 
York, and have at times gone very far to welcome such reconstruction measures 
as are not instruments of oppression. In the sections where the lands arc 
exhausted for the time being, or where crops have failed persistently, and the 
wolf of poverty is at the door, people have ceased to take any interest in State 
affairs, and are settling up their business and hastening to Texas. Now and then 
one sees a few tired and soiled men and women on the trains, and on inquiring 
their destination, finds they are on the return from Texas, which has not treated 
them as kindly as they anticipated ; but, as a rule, those who go remain. 

Here and there ostracism shows itself There is some bitterness in Mobile, 
but I doubt if ordinarily a Northern Republican, voting there conscientiously for 
the best men, — not installing ignorance and vice in power under the Republican 
colors, — would be criticised on account of his sentiments. In the back-country 
he would meet with more intolerance. The negro has such absolute freedom in 
Alabama that the whites have long ago given up any endeavor, save at election 
times, to check his extravagances. There is a law which prevents challenge at the 
polls, and gives the right to the challenged party to sue for damages. When a 
native Southerner turns and joins the Republicans, he is usually pretty thoroughly 
ostracised ; and this was the case with the gentleman who w as Mayor of Mobile 
when I visited that city. As soon as he had joined the dominant party, he was 
"cut" in all the social relations; his wife and children were badly treated, and no 
name was thought too harsh to apply to him, although he had once been 
considered a citizen of distinction. 

In some of the towns, as in Montgomery, and smaller communities in the 
region where the most distress prevails, the negroes seem to be absolutely depend- 
ent upon the charity of the white folks. Their lives are grossly immoral, and the 
women especially have but little conception of the true dignity of womanhood. 
One sees men and women, like Italian and Spanish beggars, slouching all day,, 
from sun to shade, from shade to sun, living on garbage and the results of begging 
and predatory expeditions — a prey to any disease that comes along, and fester- 
ing in ignorance. Some of them have been trying agriculture, and have given it 
up in disgust, because they do not understand farming, and there is no one to 
teach them. They have flocked into the towns, and there remain, seemingly 
nourishing a vague idea that something will turn up. It often struck me that the 
thousands of idle negroes I saw were in the attitude of waiting. Their expectant 
air was almost pathetic to witness. It was the same thing which we so often 
remark in animals — that quaint and curious, yet despairing look in the eyes and 
poise of the body, which seemed to say : " I would like to read the riddle of my 
relation to the universe, but I cannot." So they occupy themselves lazily in 
lounging about the sheriff"'s sales of mortgaged property, — always a prominent 
sight in the South now-a-days, alas ! — or in begging of citizens and strangers 

342 A l.A 1! AiM a'.S NKKDS K I) U C A J' I O N . 

with the greatest persistency. On the plantations they arc the same as every- 
where else in the cotton States ; not always honest when they work for other 
people, and reckless and improvident when they work for themselves. 

That there is plenty of enterprise in the State, there can be no doubt — no 
more doubt than that there is no money to assist it. Indeed, it is safe to predict 
for Alabama a sudden upspringing sometime into a marvelous growth, something 
Hke that of Texas, because the railroad communication is already .so perfect, and 
the resources are so immense. As soon as a little money is accumulated, or 
foreign capital has gained courage to go in, we shall see an awakening in the 
beautiful commonwealth. It is rich in grand mountains, noble rivers, swelling 
prairies, mighty forests, lovely sea-coast, and everywhere there is a wealth of 
Southern blossom and perfume. The Northerner from America or Europe can 
readily accommodate himself to its climate, and can find any combination of 
resources that he may desire to develop. 

Something should be done to arrest the drainage toward Texas ; it is dwarf- 
ing the development of the Alabamian towns, and leaving them in an unpleasant 
predicament. There is a very large discouraged class in the State — people who 
were willing enough at the close of the war to accept its main results, and to 
devote themselves to a rebuilding, but who have been so embarrassed and hin- 
dered by the anomalous condition of labor and politics, and are so destitute of 
means with which to carry on new enterprises, that they prefer to fly to newer 

The spirit of nationality among the people in those sections of Alabama 
which have suffered most, has been somewhat broken, yet, according to the 
statement made to me by one of the most distinguished of Alabama's citizens, 
these same people need but the return of a little prosperity to make them con- 

The commonwealth labors under a dreadful burden of ignorance ; the illit- 
eracy in some sections is appalling. With a population of a little over 
1,000,000, Alabama has more than 380,000 persons who can neither read nor 
write; and of these nearly 100,000 are whites. There are also large classes who 
can both read and write, but whose education goes no farther. Among the 
175,000 voters in the State, there is a newspaper circulation of 40,000 only. 
The negro does not seem to care for the papers. A good public school system 
was inaugurated in Alabama in 1854, and three years later nearly 90,000 children 
were attending school in the State ; but the advent of the war annulled the 
progress already made, and since reconstruction educational matters have been 
somewhat embroiled. The conduct of the schools is now in the hands of what is 
known as the State Board of Education, composed of the State Superintendent 
and two members from each Congressional district. This Board has full Legisla- 
tive powers, the Legislature being only revisory of its acts. The school fund 
receives from $500,000 to $600,000 annually from the State, one-third of it 
being interest on the fund bestowed by the General Government, and the 
remainder being made up of one-fifth of the commonwealth's general revenue — 
all the poll tax, the licenses, and the tax on insurance companies. This fund is 



nominally apportioned impartially to the whites and blacks in each county, and 
the trustees in each township are informed what their share is. Under this 
system, the average attendance at the various schools opened throughout the 
State, has been i 50,000; but in 1873 the schools were all closed (save those in the 
large cities) on account of the inability of the State to pay teachers ! This cessa- 
tion has been productive of much harm and disorganization. Efforts have, how- 
ever, been made to resuscitate the State University at Tuscaloosa, which is not in 
a flourishing condition, and a normal college, for Leachers of both sexes, has been 
started at Florence, in the northern part of the State. In Western Alabama, a 
colored university and normal college has been established at Marion, and a 
colored normal school is opened at Huntsville. The American Missionary 
Society also maintains a college for colored people at Talladega. 

The Cotton-PlaiiL 



AFTER many weeks of journeying in the Soutli, through regions where 
hardly a house is to be seen, where the villages, looming up between 
patches of forest or canebrake, seem deserted and worm-eaten, and the people 
reckless and idle, the traveler is struck with astonishment and delight when he 
emerges into the busy belt extending from Aiken, in South Carolina, to Augusta, 
in Georgia. There he sees manufacturing villages, hears the whir of spindles, 
notes on every hand evidences of progressive industry, and wonders why it was 

not so years before. Alas ! who can 
compute the sum of the lost opportu- 
nities of the Southern States ? 

This "sand-hill region," extending 
from the north-eastern border of South 
Carolina to the south-eastern border of 
Georgia, has many noteworthy aspects. 
Its climate has wonderful life-renewing 

properties for the invalid worn down with the incessant fatigues and changes of 
severer latitudes, and its resources for the establishment of manufactures, and 
for the growth of some of the most remarkable and valuable fruits, are unrivaled. 


The upper limit of the sand-hills in South Carolina is very clearly defined. 
They are usually found close to the rivers, and are supposed to be ancient 
sand -banks once not far from the sea -shore. They pass through the State, 
half-way between the ocean and the Blue Ridge, and are most thoroughly devel- 
oped near Aiken, Columbia, Camden, and Cheraw. They are usually clothed 
in aromatic pine forests. 

Down the slopes, in Georgia and South Carolina, run rivers, which in winter 
and spring are turbid with the washings from the red clay hills to the north- 
ward; and in the flat valleys scattered along these streams cotton and corn 
grow with remarkable luxuriance. In Georgia the hills run from the falls of the 
Savannah river at Augusta, south-west and north-east, as far as the Ogeechee 
river. The highest point in this curious range, at the United States Arsenal 
at Summerville, near Augusta, is hardly more than six hundred feet above the 
sea-level. The sand-hills are the home of the yellow and the " short-leaved " 
pine, the Spanish and water oak, the red maple, the sweet gum, the haw, the 
persimmon, the wild orange, and the China-tree; the lovely Kalviia Latifolia 
clothes the acclivities each spring in garments of pink and white ; the flaming 
azalea, the honey-suckle, the white locust, the China burr and other evergreens, 
the iris, the phlox, the silk grass, flourish there. 

In the open air, in the gardens, japonicas grow ten feet high and blossom late 
in winter; and the " fringe - tree " and the Lagerstreinia Indica dot the lawns 
with a dense array of blossoms. Although the unstimulated surface soil of all 
this section will not produce cotton and the cereals more than two years in 
succession, yet it is prolific of the peach, the apricot, the pomegranate, the fig, 
the pear, all kinds of berries, and the grape, which grows there with surprising 
luxuriance; and all vegetables practicable in a northern climate ripen there in the 
months of April and May. 

A pleasant land, one is forced to declare. But this productiveness is the 
least of its advantages. The kindly climate is the chief glory of the sand-hill 
country. Aiken has achieved a great reputation as a winter residence for 
pulmonary invalids. The mild and equable temperature, and the dryness of the 
air, which allows the patient to pass most of his winter under the open sky, 
inhaling the fragrance of the pine woods, have, year after year, drawn hundreds 
of exhausted Northerners thither. Before the war, the planter of the lowlands, 
and the merchants of New York and Boston alike, went to Aiken to recuperate ; 
the planter occupying a pleasant cottage during the summer, and the Northerner 
arriving with the first hint of winter. But now the planter comes no more with 
the splendor and spendthrift profusion of old, and the Northerner has the little 
town very much to himself 

The accommodations have, for several years since the war, been insufficient ; 
but as the inhabitants creep back toward their old prosperity, they are giving 
Aiken the bright appearance of a Northern town, and the ill-looking, unpainted, 
rickety houses of the past are disappearing. Originally laid out by a railroad 
company, in 1833, as a future station of commercial importance, Aiken prospered 
until fire swallowed it up a few years later. When the war came, great numbers 

346 *' S AN D- II I I. I I-.KS" M A N I KACI i; K i:s. 

of refugees rushed into it, and the niis(.r\ and distress tliere were great. The 
tide of battle never swept through the town, Kilpatrick contenting himself with 
a partially successful raid in that direction when Sherman was on the road to 
Columbia ; and as soon as peace was declared the invalids flocked back again 
to haunt the springs and the pleasant woody paths, over which the jessamine 
day and night showers its delicious fragrance. 

Aiken is situated seventeen miles from the Savannah river and from Augusta, 
on the South Carolina railroad, which extends southward to Charleston. The 
inhabitants of the hill-country, a little remote from the towns, are decidedly 
primitive in their habits, and the sobriquet of " sand-hiller " is applied by South 
Carolinians to specimens of poor white trash, which nothing but a system of 
slave-aristocrac}' could ever have produced. The lean and scrawny women, 
without animation, their faces discolored by illness, and the lank and hungry 
men, have their counterparts nowhere among native Americans at the North ; 
it is incapable of producing such a peasantry. 

The houses of the better class of this folk, — the prosperous farmers, as dis- 
tinguished from the lazy and dissolute plebeians, — to whom the word "sand- 
hiller" is perhaps too indiscriminately given, are loosely built, as the climate 
demands little more than shelter. At night, immense logs burn in the fireplace, 
while the house door remains open. The diet is barbarous as elsewhere 
among the agricultural classes in the South — corn-bread, pork and "chick'n;" 
farmers rarely killing a cow for beef, or a sheep for mutton. Hot and bitter 
coffee smokes morning and night on the tables where purest spring water,' 
or best of Scuppernong wine, might be daily placed — -the latter with almost as 
little expense as the former. 

But the invalid visiting this region in search of health, and frequenting a 
town of reasonable size, encounters none of these miseries. At Augusta and 
at Aiken he can secure the comforts to which he is accustomed in the North, 
to which will be added a climate in which existence is a veritable joy. In 
the vicinity. of Aiken many hundreds of acres are now planted with the grape; 
and 2,500 gallons of wine to the acre, have been guaranteed in some cases, 
although the average production must, of course, fall very much below that. 

The development of the resources for manufacturing in the region extending 
between and including Aiken and Augusta merits especial mention, and shows 
what may be done by judicious enterprise in the South. The extensive cotton 
manufactories at Augusta and Graniteville employ many hundreds of hands. 
Scarcely a quarter of a century ago the Augusta cotton manufacturing enterprise 
was inaugurated with but a small capital. It was the outgrowth of a demand 
for labor for the surplus white population — ^ labor whose results should accrue at 
once to the benefit of the State, and of that population. In due time the canal at 
Augusta was constructed. 

The Augusta cotton factory, which was not at first prosperous, now has a 
capital stock of $600,000, upon which a quarterly dividend of five per cent, is 
paid. Thousands of spindles and hundreds of looms are now busy along the 
banks of the noble canal, where, also, have sprung up fine flour- mills and 



tobacco factories. The cotton-mill is filled with the newest and finest machinery, 
and has received the high compliment, from Senator Sprague, of Rhode Island, 
of being "the best arranged one in the United States." 

At Graniteville, in South Carolina, two or three miles beyond the Savannah 
river, extensive mills have also been erected, and eight million yards of cotton 
are annually made there. The manufacturing village is as tidy and thrifty as any 
in the North, and there is none in the South which excels it in a general aspect 
of comfort, unless it be that of the 
Eagle and Phoenix Company at Colum- 
bus, Georgia. Six miles from Augusta 
there is an extensive kaolin factory. 

Early on a bright summer morn- 
ing, while the inhabitants were still 
asleep, I entered Augusta, and walked 
through the broad, beautifully shaded 
avenues of this lovely Southern city. 
The birds gossiped languidly in the 
dense foliage, through which the sun 
was just peering; here and there the 
sand of the streets was mottled with 
delicate light and shade ; the omni- 
present negro was fawning and yawning 
on door-steps, abandoning himself to 
his favorite attitude of slouch. 

I wandered to the banks of the 
Savannah, which sweeps, in a broad 
and sluggish current, between high -"^ ^^"-^ '''"' '" Augusta, Geor-m 

banks, bordered at intervals with enormous mulberry trees. Clambering down 
among the giant boles of these sylvan monarchs, and stumbling from time 
to time over a somnolent negro fisherman, I could see the broad and fertile 
Carolina fields opposite, and scent the perfume which the slight breeze sent from 
the dense masses of trees in the town above me. 

Returning, an hour later, I found the place had awakened to a life and 
energy worthy of the brightest of Northern cities of its size. The superb 
Greene street, wath its grand double rows of shade trees, whose broad boughs 
almost interlocked above, was filled with active pedestrians ; the noise of wagons 
and drays was beginning; the cheery markets were thronged with gossiping 
negro women ; and around the Cotton Exchange groups were already gathered 
busily discussing the previous day's receipts. 

Augusta's excellent railroad facilities, and her advantageous situation, have 
made her an extensive cotton market. The Georgia railroad is largely tributary 
to the town, although Savannah is of late years receiving much of the cotton 
which properly belongs to Augusta. The new railway stretching from Port 
Royal, in South Carolina, to Augusta, furnishes a convenient outlet, and the South 
Carolina and Central roads give communication with Charleston and Savannah. 


CHANGKS IN COT 1' <) N - I> L A N T I N (1 . 

The Cotton Exchange was founded in 1872. For the cotton years of 1872- 
'jl, Augusta received 180,789 bales. The cotton factories in the city consume 
200 bales daily, and the Langley and the Hickman factories in South Carolina, 
and the Riclimond mills in Georgia, are also supplied from this point. 
Cotton culture throughout :ill this section has greatly increased since the 
war. I was told that one man in Jackson count}- now grows a larger number of 
bales than the whole county produced previous to i860. 

The use of fertilizers, once so utterly discarded, is now producing the most 
remarkable results. But the planters in all the surrounding country give but 
little attention to a rotation or diversity of crops, so that any year's failure of 
the cotton brings them to financial distress, as they depend entirely upon the 
outer world for their supplies ; although, in some of the northern sections of 
the State they show an inclination to vary their course in this respect. Conver- 
sation with representative men from various parts of the State, who naturally 
flock into Augusta to inspect the market, showed, however, that there was a 
steady and genuine improvement in agriculture throughout Georgia. Lands 
which heretofore have been considered of superior quality for cotton-growing 
have, under the new regime, with careful fertilizing and culture, produced twice 
as much as during the epoch of slavery. 

According to universal testimony, the negro on these cotton-lands usually 
works well, "and when he does not," said a planter to me, "it is because he is 
poorly paid." Small farms seem to be increasing in Middle Georgia, and much 
of the cotton brought into Augusta is raised exclusively by white labor. The 
small farmers, who were before the war unable to produce a crop in competition 
with those who possessed a larger number of slaves, now find no difficulty in 
placing their crop in market, and securing good prices for it. 

Augusta, like Savannah, is a town built in the midst of a beautiful wood. 
The public buildings are embowered in foliage; the pretty City Hall, the Medical 
College, the Masonic and Odd Fellows' Halls peering out from knots of trees. 
^^-^.^- _^ _._^ Broad street, the main thor- 

oughfare, is well lined with 
commodious stores and resi- 
dences, and the streets lead- 
ing from it are well kept and 
shaded. In front of the City 
Hall stands a simple but 
massive monument, erected 
to the memory of the 
Georgian signers of the 
Declaration of American 

Tall men, as well as tall 

A Confederate Soldier's Grave at Augusta, Georgia ( Page 349. 1 and graCcful trCeS, aboUnd in 

the streets, for the Georgian is dowered with a generous height. The policemen 
are clad in an amicable mingling of gray and blue. On the road to Summerville, 


the pretty suburb on one of the sand-hills three miles away, one sees the powder- 
mill, now disused, which supplied the Confederates with ammunition for many a 
day ; and in a lovely location, at the hill's top, is the extensive United States 
Arsenal, around which are grouped many workshops, built and occupied by the 
Confederates during the war. 

Nothing can exceed in quiet and reverent beauty the floral decoration of the 
principal cemetery of Augusta. Loving hands have lingered long over the Con- 
federate soldiers' graves, and the white headstones, neatly surrounded with box- 
wood hedges, nearly all bear inscriptions like the following, which show that 
even as in the North, the young were the first to go, and first to fall : 

''Joe E. R , 

Co. E., 4 Tenn. Cav. 

Died Feb. 17, 1863, 

Aged 19." 

Here and there tall posts have decorative mottoes worked in evergreen upon 

them, such as 

"The Sacred Trust of Heroes." 
"Our Boys in Grey." 

Augusta escaped the scourge of Invasion, but did not escape the ghost of 
Bereavement, who has claimed such a large space among the pleasant shadows 
for his own particular ground. 

The old town had a stormy revolutionary history. Named after one of the 
royal princesses of England by Oglethorpe, it was an Indian outpost after 1735, 
and in constant danger from the savages, until taken and retaken by Briton and 
American during the revolution. The churches and the institutions of learning 
in Augusta are numerous, and the extensive fair-ground of the Cotton States' 
Mechanical and Agricultural Association occupies many pleasant acres just 
outside the eastern limits of the city. 



FROM the ashes of the great penitential conflagration in which the exigen- 
cies of war enveloped Atlanta, from the ruins of the thousand dwellings, 
factories, workshops, and railroad establishments totally destroyed in the blaze of 
1864, has sprung up a new, vigorous, awkwardly alert city, very similar in 
character to the mammoth groupings of brick and stone in the North-west. 
There is but little that is distinctively Southern in Atlanta ; it is the antithesis of 
Savannah. There is nothing that reminds one of the North in the deliciously 
embowered chief city of Georgia, surrounded with its romantic moss-hung oaks, 
its rich lowlands, and its luxuriant gardens, where the magnolia, the bay, and the 
palmetto vie with one another in the exquisite inexplicable charm of their volup- 
tuous beauty. Atlanta has an unfinished air ; its business and residence streets 
are scattered along a range of pretty hills ; but it is eminently modern and 
unromantic. The Western and Atlantic railway unites it with Chattanooga, 

Sunset over Atlanta, Georgia. 

running through a country which was scourged in bitterest fashion by the war ; 
the Georgia railroad connects it with Augusta ; the Macon and Western witli 
handsome and thriving Macon ; the Atlanta and West Point road to the town of 
West Point, Alabama, gives a continuous line to- Montgomery ; and the nevv 


Piedmont Air Line, which has opened up the whole of Northern Georgia, gives 
it new and speedy communication with the North via Charlotte, in North Caro- 
lina. Great numbers of Northern people have flocked to Atlanta to live since 
the time when General Pope's will was law, and when the Bullock administration 
was just arising out of the chaos of the constitutional convention. The removal 
of the State capital from Milledgeville to Atlanta also gave the renaissant city a 
good start, and the wonderful manner in which it drew trade and capital to it 
from all sides made it the envy of its sister Georgian cities. 

A brief review of the progress of politics in the State since Atlanta became 
its capital will aid in arriving at an understanding of the present Social and politi- 
cal condition of the commonwealth. 

When the reconstruction policy of the General Government began, a large 
number of the citizens of Georgia declared for it, and among them was Mr. Bul- 
lock, subsequently Governor of the State. In the political campaign which 
ensued, the opposite faction, which totally repudiated the reconstruction acts, 
condescended to much proscription and denunciation, and numbers of Union 
men were driven from the State. It was out of this campaign that the Ku-Klux 
conspiracy, as manifested in Georgia, is supposed to have grown. Prominent 
Republicans received lugubrious letters containing pictures of coffins, and acts of 
violence were not wanting. Native Georgians, who were leading Republican 
officials, were hunted down and assassinated ; Republican meetings were dis- 
persed, not without slaughter; and it was manifest from the outset that there 
was to be a decided upsetting of the attempt to enforce the policy inaugurated 
by the war. But the Republican party was organized, and its Legislature, in 
which there were many negroes, went into session. 

The first trouble that occurred was due to a discussion of the question 
whether or not men who had held office previous to the war, and then had taken 
part in the rebellion, were eligible for the Legislature. The debate upon this 
matter was heated and angry, and the final decision was in favor of extreme 
liberality toward all who had fought on the Confederate side. Many of these 
were admitted to the State councils, and after a time, getting control of the 
middle- men, they had the Legislature in their hands. Their first act was to oust 
all the colored members — some thirty-six — and to proceed on the basis that a 
white man's government was the only one for Georgia. The expulsion of the 
negroes was corrected by act of Congress; and in 1869 the colored element was 
readmitted to the Legislature. After this, Bullock, who was the first Governor 
chosen under the operation of the reconstruction laws, had full sway for about 
two years. Some good laws were passed during that time, but the railroad 
legislation was the occasion of veritable disaster to the progress of reconstruction 
in Georgia. Bullock was in due time compelled to depart from the State, to. save 
himself from imprisonment ; and the Democratic party, completely triumphant, 
now and then announces its convictions through the medium of Robert Toombs, 
who has been its leader, and, in some measure, its exponent for many years. It 
is not long since this gentleman, in a speech made at Atlanta in favor of a 
convention to revise the constitution of the State, made use of the following 


language : " Why, look at that miserable thing you call a constitution ! It com- 
mits you to all the lies of the revolution against you. It says your allegiance 
is first due to the Federal Government before it is due to your own State ? Do 
you believe that ? When you can wrench that from the constitution, do it ! " 

Under the administration of Governor Bullock, a system of internal improve- 
ment was inaugurated, theoretically granting State aid to naissant railroads in 
the proportion in which the companies building those roads aided themselves. 
But bonds were over-issued, and were negotiated by prominent bankers in New 
York city. The Brunswick and Albany railroad was the principal project. 
About $6,000,000 worth of bonds were actually issued during the two years, all 
of w^hich went to the Brunswick and Albany railroad, with the exception of 
$600,000 granted to the Cartersville and Van West road. The party now in 
power has repudiated all the railroad bonds issued under Bullock's regime. The 
New York bankers have not suffered very much by this, but the repudiation will 
give the credit of the State a severe blow. 

The Governor, during these two years in which the reconstruction policy of 
Congress was upheld, seems to have had an agitated and miserable existence. He 
spent a great deal of time and money in Washington before he succeeded in pro- 
curing the legislation which restored the negroes to their places in the Legislature 
in 1869. It is alleged that when he took the reins of government in Georgia he 
was worth no money, but that, a little time after he had assumed the office, he 
paid his debts, and became reasonably prosperous. But he was surrounded by 
an atmosphere of corruption, and it is difficult to say that he was individually 
dishonest. In his defense, which gives a very clear idea of the immense obsta- 
cles which wily and subtle men placed in his path, it is evident that he required 
the shrewdness of an archangel to march without stumbling. It was for the 
interest of the Democratic party in the State to make reconstruction unsuccess- 
ful, and toward that end they unceasingly toiled. 

The material on which one was compelled to work, to maintain the power of 
the reconstruction government in those days, was unreliable. One never knew 
when he was to be betrayed by the weak-kneed or ignorant legislators who were 
his own friends. Prominent State officials were applied to to contribute money 
for "election purposes," — i.e., for the purchase of votes. I was told by those 
who did not fear sincere contradiction, that as much as two thousand dollars was 
sometimes paid at that epoch for a single vote. Often in danger of losing his 
life, and always in danger of betrayal, the head of the newly organized party was 
haunted by horrors. 

The career of H. I. Kimball in Atlanta, and in various enterprises in the 
commonwealth, has not a little to do with the present condition of politics in 
Georgia. In 1865, Mr. Kimball made his appearance in the State, and began 
. by perfecting arrangements for placing sleeping-cars on all the roads in the 
South. Atlanta was even then peering from beneath the ashes under which she 
had been buried, and was vaguely whispering prophecies of her future commer- 
cial greatness. The capital was likely to be removed from Milledgeville to that 
city as soon as a regular State government should be resumed, and Kimball, 



The State- House — Atlanta, Georgia. 

doubtless, saw that as readily as did any of the Atlantians. • The Kimball- 
Ramsey-Pullnian Sleeping-Car Company was the name of the organization with 
which he started ; and he intended, it is said, to get rich out of it by means of 
$300,000 franchise stock, which he was to have. This venture was not success- 
ful, and many people who furnished the money to buy the necessary cars were 
sufferers. His next venture was the "Atlanta Opera House." The original 
company which had contemplated erect- 
ing a mammoth block for an opera house, 
and for stores and public offices, had 
failed ; the unfinished building was con- 
sidered worth $115,000, but Mr. Kim- 
ball obtained possession of it for $33,000. 
This purchase gave him the means of 
raising money ; he finished the Opera 
House, furnishing it as a legislative edi- 
fice. At that time the Legislature was 
in session in the City Hall in Atlanta. 
The city rented Kimball's new building, 
as soon as it was completed, for a State- 
House. Kimball had fitted it up with 
$55,000, advanced to him, it is said, 
by Governor Bullock from the State 
funds. The Legislature entered the new Capitol, and no sooner had they assem- 
bled than Mr. Kimball besought them to buy it. They at first refused, but 
subsequently purchased it for $300,000. As soon as this was decided on, the 
$55,000 loaned by the Governor to Kimball were returned, thus presumably 
securing Governor Bullock from impeachment. 

Having .prospered so well in the Opera House project, the ingenious Kimball 
conceived the scheme of the Kimball House, at present the largest hotel 
in Atlanta, and one of the largest in the Southern States. A bill was passed by 
the Legislature allowing an advance to the Brunswick and Albany railroad — 
that is to say, two acts allowed Kimball, who was the contractor, to build the 
road, to draw respectively $12,000 and $15,000 per mile, before building each 
section of twenty miles. By this issue he obtained the funds with which to build 
the Kimball House. He constructed the first twenty miles of the Brunswick 
and Albany railroad in good faith, then gradually encroached, until there was no 
longer any semblance of adherence to the letter of the act, which naturally 
required him to build the road as fast as the money was advanced. Meantime 
the Democrats were vigorously attacking Governor Bullock, charging him with 
every kind of theft, and he was in a precarious situation, when he suddenly found 
that he had not a majority that he could count on in the Legislature. Then 
ensued a severe struggle on his part against the ousting which was threatened. 
Kimball continued to unfold superb schemes, and turn them to his private 
account. In the fall of 1871, Governor Bullock paid a visit to California, 
whence he was hurried home by the announcement that the Legislature was to 


meet in December. He returned ; surveyed the political field ; found that he 
was in imminent danger of being complicated and possibly impeached, and went 
North and resigned. Shortly after, Kimball disappeared from Atlanta and from 
his Southern field of operations, and the bubble burst. 

The State railroad, running from Atlanta northward to Chattanooga, had 
been leased under Bullock's administration. The Democrats, who now came into 
power, charged that the Governor was guilty of gross official misconduct in 
leasing the road, although it was done in obedience to an act of the Legislature, 
and they proceeded to prosecute every one who had been connected with the 
management of it under the Bullock regime. They based their charge against 
the Governor upon the theory that he was personally and pecuniarily interested 
in the road, as Kimball was one of the lessees, and the Governor was alleged to 
be Kimball's partner. This, however, the Governor expressly denies, showing 
that the road, which, for the twenty years from its building up to 1868, had been 
an expense to the State, and a fruitful source of political corruption, was made 
profitable under the lease system. The prosecutions by the Democratic party 
were characterized by a great deal of acerbity, and in one case the Supreme 
Court decided that much injustice was inflicted upon a prosecuted party. The 
Democratic Legislative Committee appointed to investigate the official conduct 
of the late Governor was in session seven months, and confined its final report 
mainly to denunciations of the Governor's course, on the supposition that he was 
Kimball's partner. They took complete control of the State Government, 
gloried in the repudiation of the various bonds issued from 1869 to 1871, and 
maintained that the reconstruction acts of Congress were " unconstitutional, 
revolutionary, null, and void." 

Certainly reconstruction is null and void in Georgia. It has been a complete 
failure there. That there have been instances of glaring injustice practiced on 
both sides no fair-minded man can for an instant doubt. The Republican admin- 
istration lasted scarcely three years; and the legitimate results of the w^ar were not 
maintained so long as that after 1868. Out of the 90,000 colored voters in the 
State, scarcely 30,000 vote to-day ; free schools are almost unknown outside the 
large cities and towns ; and there has not been a Republican inspector of election 
since the Democrats assumed power. To judge from the testimony of native 
Georgians who are Republicans, and who have never been suspected of any 
dishonesty or untruth, the negroes are very grossly intimidated; and the Ku-Klux 
faction still exists as a kind of invisible empire. This is naturally to be expected 
after the occurrences in Louisiana, South Carolina, and Alabama ; it is the revul- 
sion from tyrannical ignorance and carpet - baggery ; and may prove as baneful in 
its results as has its degraded and disreputable opposite. The Democrat of 
Georgia talks with all the more emphasis of a white man's government in his 
commonwealth, because he feels that there is a black man's government in 
a neighboring State ; if he has ever had any exaggerated fears as to a too free 
assumption of civil rights by his ex-slave, those fears are accented ten-fold 
since he has seen the real injustice practiced by negroes where they have 
attained supreme, unrestricted power. 


Roth the whites and blacks in the State have large and effective military 
organizations, and drill constantly, as if dumbly preparing for some possible 
future strife. The battalions of the white race still cling to the Confederate 
gray, in some cases ; the negro militiaman blossoms into a variety of gorgeous 
uniforms. I saw a company of blacks assembling in Atlanta; they were good- 
looking, stalwart men, and went about their work with the utmost nonchalance, 
while here and there a white muttered between his teeth . something unmis- 
takably like " d n niggers." There is a very large negro population in 

Atlanta and the surrounding country. 

But few traces of the war are now left in Atlanta. The residence streets 
have a smart, new air; many fine houses have been recently built, and their 
Northern architecture and trim gardens afford a pleasant surprise after the 
tumble-down, unpainted towns of which one sees so many in the South. The 
banks, the theatres, the public business blocks, the immense Kimball House, all 
have the same canny air — seem to be boasting of their tidy looks and prosperity 
to the countrymen who come into town to market. I strolled into the Capitol 
(the quondam Opera House, which Kimball sold the Legislature). In the office 
of the State Treasurer I encountered some gentlemen who seemed inclined 
to believe that the State would not suffer if all debts contracted under the Bul- 
lock regime were repudiated. One said that he could not inform me how much 
the State debt, as construed by the reconstructionists, was ; he reckoned no one 
knew ; the scoundrels who had contracted the debt had run away ; if they could 
lay hands on Bullock they would put him in the penitentiary. I found, every- 
where I went in the Capitol, a spirit of extreme bitterness prevailing against the 
departed carpet-baggers ; and all complained that the State affairs had been left 
in a wretched condition. 

The attempt to establish free common schools throughout Georgia has thus 
far resulted in failure. Prior to the war there was but little effort made for the 
education of the masses. A small sum was appropriated as the "indigent school 
fund," but the majority of the poorer classes in the back-country remained in 
dense ignorance. In the present State School Commissioner's office I was 
informed that there had been no common school open outside the large cities for 
some time. It was alleged that the school fund had been diverted to unlawful 
purposes during the "previous administration," and that the State had been 
much embarrassed by a debt of $300,000, incurred in prematurely putting 
schools into operation. There seems no doubt of a sincere desire on the part of 
the Georgia Conservatives to maintain free schools ; and it is, by the way, note- 
worthy that three of the Southern States that are Conservative in politics are 
leading all the others in education. Local taxation is the principal bugbear. 
The farmer dislikes to be taxed for schools ; he still has various absurd pre- 
judices ; thinks the common school a pauper institution, and gets angry if there 
is any talk of compulsory education. The school population of the State is about 
370,000, and the annual school revenue, derived from interest on bonds, from the 
poll tax, from taxes on shows, and from dividends on railroad stock, amounts to 
$280,000. This is, of course, ridiculously small, and, now that Georgia has 



arrived once more at some degree of material prosperity, will, doubtless, be 
increased, and amends will be made for the shameful negligence which allowed 
the whole school machinery to stop and rust for a year. A praiseworthy but 
fruitless effort has recently been made in the Legislature to follow in the steps of 
Tennessee, by favoring local taxation, a limit to the amount of which is to be 
fixed, to guard against the creation of excessive taxes by negro votes ; and the 
Peabody fund is employed in aiding the proselyters who preach the cause of 
common school education in the back counties. The illiteracy in Georgia 
previous to i860 Avas alarming; the most moderate estimates showed that 
eighteen per cent, of the adult native white population could not even read ; and, 
in i860, when the State had a scholastic population of 236,454, only 94,687 
attended school. Prejudice is strong, but the free school will establish itself in 
Georgia, as everywhere South, in due time. I think that the mass of Georgians 
respect an educated negro, but are determined to make him do the work of 
educating himself. The negro needs a good general education, mainly because 
it will strengthen his character, and make him more independent. He is at 
present very easily intimidated with regard to his voting, and readily falls into 
corrupt practices in election time, because he does not consider the evil effects 
of such a course. 

The manufactures of Atlanta are not extensive ; there are some large rolling- 
mills, and a good deal of iron is brought down from the country to the north- 
ward, and worked over there. Of course there is a large cotton movement 
through the town ; and, in the late autumn, a journey along the railroad to Chat- 
tanooga discloses hundreds of teams toiling over the rough roads, bringing 
goodly stores of cotton bales to the stations. Journalism in Atlanta is vivacious 
and enterprising, and the Nezv Era and the Herald are newspapers of metropoli- 
tan dimensions. The Governor's residence is a pretty building, on an ambitious 
avenue, where stand many handsome mansions ; the City Hall is quite imposing. 
Atlanta is the home of General John B. Gordon, one of the present United States 
senators, and a noted Confederate general. On the road from Atlanta to 
Augusta, and but fifteen miles from the capital, is the remarkable " Stone Mount- 
ain," a peak of solitary rock, 3,000 feet in height, and several miles in circum- 
ference. Near its top are the remains of an ancient fortification ; and along the 
•sides there are little patches of soil, but from a distance the great pyramid stands 
out seemingly naked before the sky, its dark gray looming up angrily against the 
crystal vault. 

Northward, twenty miles from Atlanta, at the base of the Kenesaw mountain, 
lies the pretty little town of Marietta, once the location of a flourishing military 
academy, and now a summer resort for the well-to-do of Atlanta's 30,000 
residents. The country between Atlanta and Chattanooga seems as peaceful as 
if never a soldier had set his foot upon it ; yet it needs no stretch of memory to 
recall those wild days when the giant strategists, Sherman and Johnston, bitterly 
fought and fortified, and marched and countermarched during long months, from 
Dalton to the Chattahoochee river, whence Sherman pushed on against Hood 
and the desperate Confederate armies, whose command Hood had taken after the 



Richmond Government's fatal error, — the removal of Johnston, — until the great 
granary and storehouse of the Confederacy, with Atlanta for its centre, was con- 
quered by the Union arms. The " State," or Western and Atlantic road, once 
the object of so many hostile cavalry raids, does a thriving trade. At all the 
stations, in harvest time, are groups of jovial and contented agriculturists, white 
and black, their garments flecked with cotton. Near Marietta, at Roswell, there 
are flourishing cotton factories. Allatoona and Resaca, memorable for the scenes 
of 1864, lie in a broken, picturesque and fertile country; the lands along the 
creeks are especially rich. Dalton, the junction of the " State," the branch of 
the East Tennessee, Virginia and Georgia, and the Selma, Rome and Dalton 
railroads, is a flourishing grain depot for Atlanta ; here and there on the adjacent 
mountains may be seen fast-crumbling remnants of Johnston's fortifications, 
erected a decade ago. At Cartersville, fifty miles from Atlanta, fine crops of 
wheat and cotton are raised ; large quarries of slate and marble have been opened 
and worked successfully ; and in the vicinity manganese has been found. 

An Up Country Cotton-Press. 



(;eorc;ta — material rRocjREss ok the state. 

THE transition from the brisk air and reddish uplands of Northern Georgia 
to the slui^gish atmosphere and sombre vokiptuousness of the lowlands of 
the coast, is startling. One seems to. have come ui)on another country, to have 
passed beyond seas, so great is the difference. The Savannah river, up which 
you sail, returning from I'lorida some radiant morning, seems to you to have no 
affinity with the Savannah which, far among the Northern mountains, you saw 
born of the frolicsome or riotous streamlets forever leaping and roaring in the 
passes or over mighty falls. Here it is broad, and deep, and strong, and, near 
the bluff on which the city stands, it is freighted with ships from European ports 







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Vi( w on the S i\ inn ill Rivti iicir Savann ih deorgii 

and from the Northern cities of our own coast. The moss-hung oaks, the mag- 
nolias, the orange-trees, the bays, the palmettoes, the olives, the stately shrubs 
of arbor vitae, the Cape myrtles, the oleanders, the pomegranates, the lovely 
japonicas, astonish the eyes which have learned to consider a more Northern 
foliage as Georgian. Very grand in their way were the forests of pine, with 



their sombre aisles, and the mournful whispers of the breeze stcalin<^ through 
them ; but here is the charm of the odorous tropical South, which no one can 
explain. Yet it is not here that one must look for the greatest wealth of the 
State ; for Middle Georgia is, perhaps, 
the richest agricultural region in the 
commonwealth, and the hundreds of _^ 

farms along the western boundary are 
notable instances of thorough and 
profitable culture. 

But here at Savannah began the 
existence of Georgia; here it was that 
Oglethorpe planted his tiny colony 
hardly a century and a-half ago ; here, 
on the pine-crow^ned bluff, where an 
Indian tribe dwelt in a village called 
Yamacraw, he disembarked the adven- 
turers who had come with him from 
England, under the sanction of the 
charter accorded by George the Sec- 
ond, and in due time established a 
group of tents defended by a batter}' 

of cannon. From this humble begin- General Oglethorpe, the Founder of Savannah. 

ning Savannah soon grew to the proportions of a town, and was laid out 
into squares. As the colonists had first landed on the shore of South Carolina, 
and been very kindly received by the Carolinians, they named the streets of the 
new settlement after their benefactors, — Bull, Drayton, Whitaker, St. Julian and 
Bryan, — and some of them still bear those names. Savannah, in 1734, was a little 
assemblage of squares in a clearing in the pine forest. The inhabitants locked 
themselves into their cabins at night, because the alligators strolled through the 
town, seeking whom they might devour ; and the Indians, who now and then 
threatened to " dig up the hatchet " when the colonists encroached, kept all in 
constant alarm. Two years later, the distinguished founder of Methodism, John 
Wesley, preached his first sermon in America in Savannah. 

An English gentleman who visited the colony in this same year tells us that 
■" the houses are built at a pretty large distance from one another, for fear of fire; 
the streets are very wide, and there are great squares left at proper spaces for 
markets and other conveniences." To this fortunate early arrangement the tow^n 
owes its beauty to-day. No other American city has such wealth of foliage, 
such charming seclusion, such sylvan perfection, so united with all the conveni- 
ence and compactness of a large commercial centre. The trustees of the colony, 
appointed under the royal charter, made a strict agrarian law, which divided the 
original town into two hundred and forty "fi-eeholds; " the town land covered 
twenty-four square miles, every forty houses (each house being located on tracts 
of land of exactly the same size) making a ward; each ward had a constable, and 
under him were four tithing-men. Every ten houses made a tithing; and to each 


(;i:OK(;iA ok ihk ]'AST. 

tithin*:; there was a mile square, "di\ided into twelve lots, besides roads." Every 
freeholder of the tithing had a lot or farm of forty-five acres there, and two lots 
were reserved by the trustees. Great efforts were used to make Georgia, as the 
new colony was called, after the English king who had granted the charter, "a 
silk and wine-growing country ; " but after protracted trials the colonists gave up 
their dreams of speedily realizing immense fortune, and set to work at more 
practical schemes. 

Savannah, escaping, as by miracle, from Indian mahce and the tyranny of the 
"trustees," who were of small benefit to the rest of the settlers, grew and flour- 
ished until John Reynolds came out from England as Governor in 1754, the 
trustees having resigned. The colonists welcomed him joyously at first, but 
afterward regretted it, for he Avas not specially interested in them. He allowed 
the town to fall into decay, and, notwithstanding the fact that the General 
Assembly of Georgia had met at Savannah in 1750, even considered the ques- 
tion of the removal of the capital. This w^as not effected ; a new Governor was 
sent over, but the people were rapidly becoming independent, and the " Stamp 
Act" put the same fever into their blood that stirred the pulses of their cousins 
in Massachusetts. It i? curious to note, in view of later events, that Savannah 
sent to the Old Bay State much of the powder used in the defense of 
Bunker Hill. 

Among the early excitements of Savannah Avas the trouble with the Span- 
iards in Florida, which finally culminated in open war. Spain, with her wonted 
arrogance, had firmly bidden the Georgians quit their newly established homes ; 
but Spanish bravado did not frighten them. Anglo-Georgian and Hispano- 
Floridian fortified one against the other ; the same Spanish intrigue, which was 

at work among the thousands of 
negroes in South Carolina, was active 
among the Indians in Georgia. When 
at last England and Spain went to 
war, Oglethorpe and his colonists 
played an important part in 1740, 
and penetrated to the very walls of St. 
Augustine in Florida, though they did 
not succeed in taking it. 

Although last settled of the old 
thirteen States of the Union, neither 
Georgia nor her chief city was back- 
ward in accepting the issues of the 
revolution. A Georgia schooner was 
the first commissioned American ves- 
sel, and made the first capture of the 
war — sixteen thousand pounds of 
powder. Savannah revolted against 
its royal Governor early in 1776, and 
The Pulaski Monument in Savannah, Georgia. [Page 361.] impHsoncd him; and the next year 



the convention, which formed the State constitution, met in the city. Toward 
the close of 1778, the British, after a savaj^ely disputed battle, captured the 
city; a brutal soldiery shot and bayoneted many citizens in the streets, and 
imprisoned others on board the English ships. Hritisli rule, with all the rigor of 
military law, was enforced until an evac- 
uation was rendered expedient by the 
success of American arms elsewhere. 

There is one history-picture which 
the memory of Savannah's trials during 
the revolution should ever bring to 
mind, a picture which has in it the 
sparkle of French color, and which 
may serve as a noble remembrancer 
of French gallantry and generosity. 
In the dull and dreadful days of 1779, 
when English rule had become all but 
intolerable, a superb fleet anchored off 
Tybee one day in September, and the 
amazed English saw the French colors 
displayed above twenty ships of the 
Hne and eleven frigates, commanded 
by Count D'Estaing, sent by the King 
of France to aid the struggling Ameri- 
cans. Five thousand of the best 
soldiers of the French army, united with such as the American Government could 
muster, laid vigorous siege to the town ; troops were landed, and lively attacks 
were made upon the British positions by the combined forces ; a strong bombard- 
ment was kept up for some time ; but the besiegers were finally compelled to 
withdraw, leaving the unfortunate town to the mercies of the enraged English. 

In this long and brave assault, which lasted nearly two months, the chival- 
rous Pulaski, who had devoted himself to the cause of American liberty, lost 
his life ; and there, fighting to save the beloved flag which he had grown to 
cherish more than life, perished Sergeant Jasper, who had already immortalized 
himself by keeping the American colors, at imminent risk of death, still waving 
over the battlements of Fort Moultrie in Charleston harbor, in the thick of a 
terrific bombardment. 

Savannah was, in her early history, one of the most patriotic of American 
towns. She not only produced men renowned for bravery and true chivalric 
qualities, but she took every occasion to demonstrate her faith in the Union. 
She received the new President, Washington, with joyous enthusiasm, gave 
Lafayette an overwhelming welcome, and during his visit laid the corner-stones 
of two handsome monuments, which are to-day counted among the city's treas- 
ures — those to Pulaski and General Greene. 

"The Forest City," as the Georgians affectionately call it, is situated on a 
sandy plain, only fifty feet above sea-level, and eighteen miles from the mouth 

A Spanish Dagger -Tree — Savannah. 


■KOKKSl- city" — ITS CI.I.MA'li; 1' H K l.KVKK, 

of the Savannah river. From the UDrlhern bank stretch away the vast lowland 
rice-fields of South Carolina, once under perfect cultivation, but now only here 
and there cultured, and servinj^^ mainly as the homes of a mass of ignorant and 
dissolute negroes. The city to-day is simply the amplification of the old plan 
of Oglethorpe and the trustees. It is divided by many wide streets and lanes 
which intersect at right angles, and there are many large squares at regular 
distance-s. There is little noise of wheels or clatter of hoofs in the upper town ; 
the streets are filletl with a heavy black sand over which dray and carriage alike 
go noiselessly ; one wanders in a kind of a dream through the pretty squares, so 
gay in their dress of flowering shrubs and tall and graceful trees ; it is a city 
through which he moves, -yet as tranquil and beautiful as a village. The winter 
climate is delicious ; the cold weather lasts hardly six weeks ; many flowers 
bloom in the open air from November to April ; in February the jessamine and 
the peach-tree are radiant with blossoms ; and a wholesome sea-breeze continu- 
ally sweeps inland. In summer, that is, from April to November, there is a mild 
malaria in the atmosphere, but it has been much reduced during the last quarter 
century, and the visitations of yellow fever have been rare. Savannah certainly 
possesses the advantage of an equable temperature, for during ten months of 

the year, the range is from 70 to 92 
degrees. The mean temperature is the 
same as that of Gibraltar, Bermuda, 
Palermo, Shanghai, or Sydney. The 
Northern invalids who have been 
helped by a winter or two in Savannah 
number hundreds; and many persons 
traveling to Florida in search of re- 
stored health, have become so fascin- 
ated with the Forest City as to prefer 
stopping there. 

The levee of Savannah is as pictur- 
esque, though not as extensive, as 
that of New Orleans. Looking down 
from the bluff, along whose summit 
"the Bay," the principal commercial 
avenue, runs, one sees a forest of 
masts ; a mass of warehouses, not 
unhandsomely grouped ; cotton-presses, 
surrounded by active, chattering toil- 
ers ; long processions of mule-teams, 
crowds of sailors talking in every 
known language, rice-mills, high mys- 
terious stairways, with wondrous effects 
of light and shade on their broad steps, 
winding walls, and railroad wharves. 
"Looking down from the bluff "-Savannah. Along the watcr-front the business 



blocks are so constructed that they rise above the bhiff, and arc connected with 
Bay street by means of platforms and balconies from which one can look down, 
as from house-tops, on the busy life of the port. The few buildings which the 
great fire of 1820 spared <jive an air of quaintness and a^e to the whole. 

As we walked, day by day, through the Savannah streets, late in autumn, 
we were amazed at the masses of cotton bales piled everywhere. They lined 
the commercial avenues for hundreds and hundreds of rods; down by the water- 
side they were heaped in mammoth piles, and the processions of drays seemed 
endless. The huge black ships swallowed bale after bale ; the clank of the 
hoisting-crane was heard from morning till night. At the great stone Cu.stom- 
House the talk was of cotton; at the quaint old "Exchange," in front of which 
Sherman reviewed his army in 1865, cotton was the theme; and in all the offices 
from end to end of long and level Bay street, we encountered none save busy 
buyers and factors, worshiping the creamy staple, and gossiping rapturously of 
" middlings " low, and profits possible. 

"The huge black ships swallowed bale after bale." 

Savannah's progress since the war has not been less remarkable than that of 
the whole State. The recuperation of its railroad system has been astonishing. 
Sherman's army, in its march to the sea, destro3/^ed one hundred and ten miles of 
the Georgia Central railroad track between Savannah and Macon, and thirty-nine 
miles between Savannah and Augusta. The military authorities returned the 
road to the control of its directors, June 22, 1865, and early in 1866 it was 
reconstructed so as to answer the public demand. This immense corporation at 
present operates in its interest, with its tributaries, 1,545 miles of railway. It 
extends from Savannah to Macon, thence by the South-western and Muscogee 
road to the thriving cotton-spinrring town of Columbus, thence by the Columbus 
and Opelika route to Opelika, a brisk manufacturing town in Alabama, thence to 
Montgomery, and through Selma gets an unbroken rail communication with the 
Mississippi river at Vicksburg. This, it is expected, will be the connecting point 




grasp Atlanta,- 

of the Southern Pacific route with the roads leaclin<; to the Atlantic coast. The 
Central's connections also give Savannah direct communication with New York 
and Memphis via the Atlanta and Chattanooga route, and connection at Augusta 
with the South Carolina road. From Macon it sends out another arm to 
-the Macon and Western road, — and there, also, connects 

with the Georgia railroad to Eufaula, 
Alabama, whence, by steamers on the 
Chattahoochee river, it secures an 
outlet to the Gulf of Mexico. It is 
interested in a host of small local 
lines, and has, indeed, spread an al- 
most perfect network over the State, 
contributing in the highest degree to 
the prosperity of Georgia, by the 
superb facilities w^hich it has afforded 
for transportation of products. On 
its trunk lines, during harvest, immense 
cotton-trains run night and day, bring- 
ing to Savannah the fleeces plucked 
from the fields of Georgia, Alabama, 
and Tennessee. The Central has long 
been a banking as well as a railroad 
company, and has always paid large 
dividends. The railroad interest in 
Georgia is secondary to none other 
but agriculture. The various compa- 
nies, great and small, are managed 
with much ability, and new projects 
for local and through routes are rarely 
received with disfavor. Savannah is somewhat excited over the possibilities of 
the completion of the Southern Pacific route to San Diego, in California, as the 
surveys have shown her to be the nearest Eastern port on an air Hne from the 
Pacific terminus.* 

The Atlantic and Gulf railroad is another important feeder to Savannah. It is 
the main thoroughfare connecting Savannah with Florida, Southern and South- 
western Georgia, and Eastern Alabama, and extends to Bainbridge on Flint river, 
237 miles from Savannah. From Lawton to Live Oak runs a branch road con- 
necting the Florida system wi1;h that of Georgia — at present the only Northern 
outlet for the dwellers in the flowery peninsula. A road from Macon crosses the 
Atlantic and Gulf route fifty-six miles from Savannah, and gives Brunswick, 
which was at one time expected to be a great city, an important outlet by land. 
The Savannah and Charleston railroad, completely destroyed during the war, has 

* Savannah would be, by shortest distance from San Diego, 2,070 miles; Charleston, 2,184; 
Norfolk, 2,331. The completion of a Southern Pacific railway will certainly add immensely to 
the commercial importance of Savannah. 

An old Stairway on the Levee at Savannah. 



been rebuilt, but is so poorly stocked that it is a penance to ride over it, although 
the lowland scenery through which it runs is among the most exquisite in the 
Atlantic States. The grand canebrakes, unsubdued and seemingly impene- 
trable, extending on cither side the track for miles ; the stretch of lovely field, 
with the fawn and rabbit bounding 
across it ; the odorous forest, with - -ki^"' 

its stately avenues of pine ; the little 
villages of the gatherers of naval 
stores ; the mossy boughs and tangled 
vines; the muddy- colored rivers, and 
the marshes filled with wildest masses 
of decaying vegetation — all add to 
the charm. 

The numerous steamship lines 
from Savannah to Liverpool, New 
York, Philadelphia, and Boston, carry 
away enormous quantities of cotton, 
and if the needed improvements at the 
mouth of the river were made, the 

commerce of the port would be very '^'^^ Custom- House at savannah. 

much increased. The entrance is considered one of the easiest on the 
Southern coast, the bar having a depth of nineteen feet of water upon it at 

mean low tide, and a rise of 
seven feet on the flood ; but it is 
now necessary that the obstruc- 
tions placed in the stream in, 
war time be removed, and that 
extensive dredging be accom- 

The total amount of upland 
cotton exported from Savannah 
in American vessels, from July 
I, 1865, to June 30, 1872, was 
704,373 bales, or 323,202,812 
pounds, valued at $59,537,460; 
total amount of sea-island cot- 
ton exported in American ves- 
sels, 12,437 bales, valued at 
$2,062,576. In foreign ves- 
sels during the same period, 
1,292,979 bales of upland cot- 

Vicw in Bunaventurc Cemetery — Savannah. [Page 368.] tOn, Valucd at $124,562,590, 

and 21,899 bales of sea-island cotton, valued at $4,057,708, were exported. 
The coastwise trade was also very large, amounting to 1,539,560 bales of upland 
and 40,574 bales of sea-island cotton. 



The value of both exports and imports since 1866 has been as follows 

1867 $41,225,488 

1868 50,226,209 

1S69 49,152,639 

1870 $58,850,198 

1871 64,893,892 

1872 68,100,164 

and in 1873 they did not fall short of the amount in 1872. Savannah and 
Charleston are rivals in the cotton trade, and the newspapers of the two cities 
fight at every opportunity with an eager fierceness. Savannah is now receiving 
more than 700,000 bales of cotton yearly. The crop of Georgia alone, I should 
say, is rather more than that in successful years ; and, at the rate at which the 
production in the regions tributary to the Forest City is increasing, she will 
soon rank with New Orleans. There is an enormous disparity between the 
amount of exports and imports; most of the vessels which enter the port of 

Savannah are compelled to go there in 
ballast. If cotton were taken away 
from the town, there would be little 
vivacity left. The aim of the port is 
to control the cotton of South Caro- 
lina, Georgia, Alabama and Florida, 
and it is entered in the lists as a for- 
midable competitor with Charleston for 
supremacy. *A flourishing cotton ex- 
change, earnest merchants and manu- 
facturers, and certain advantages of 
location, are doing much to place Sa- 
vannah first among the Southern At- 
lantic cities. 

There is a constant drain of emi- 
gration from the poorer districts of 
Georgia, as from Alabama, and, indeed, 
from most of the cotton States. Hun- 
dreds of poor Georgians, unable to 
make a living from the worn-out soil, 
under the new order of things, fly to 
Texas. Yet Georgia certainly does not 
grow weaker. Her material progress 
is in the highest degree encouraging. 
Her valuation, in 1858, counting the slaves as capital, was over $600,000,000; 
the revolution decreased it to $148,122,525, on a gold basis, in 1866. The 
commonwealth had been racked literally to pieces by the invasion and support 
of a merciless army. She was weighted down so heavily that recovery seemed 
impossible. Yet she grew in strength and prosperity year by year thenceforward. 
In 1872 she returned a valuation in gold of $213,160,808, a substantial increase 
in six years of nearly $75,000,000 in currency. In other words she increased 
her wealth by about the total gold value of all her lands — some 30,000,000 acres. 

The Independent Presbyterian Church — Savannah. 
[Page 369.] 

GF,ORf;lA S MA IKK I A I. l'kO(;Ki:sSS — rilK KAII.WAY MANIA, 


This liberal increase was accomplished despite a decrease in the number of 
laborers, for although the aggregate population had increased since the war, 
there were only 114,999 laborers reported in 1871, while in 1866 there were 
139,988. In 1872 the number had still further decreased, and it is estimated 
that in six years near- 

ly 30,000 laborers 
have been lost to the 
State.* But the im- 
proved methods of 
culture, and the use 
of powerful fertilizers, 
as well as the influence 
of an energetic spirit 
which perhaps distin- 
guishes the Georgian 
above his neighbors of 
the other States, have 
enabled the lessened 
number of workers to 
do what few dared to 
predict as possible. It 
is estimated that in six 
years and a-half the 
increase in the total 

View in Forsyth Park — Savannah. [Page 36^.] 

value of the property of the State has been forty-four per cent. It is to be 
regretted that the legislators. of a commonwealth which has shown itself capable 
of such an elastic rebound from ruin and misfortune should embarrass their 
future prospects by ominously talking of repudiation. Now that the majority 
of the plantations are in good condition ; now that the farming implements 
destroyed in the war have been replaced ; now that the quantity of live stock 
in all sections has been nearly doubled since 1 867 ; and that the planters look 
confidently forward to the time when Georgia shall produce a million bales 
yearly, — in spite of all the drawbacks and failures of an imperfect and vexa- 
tious labor system, — it is hardly wise to threaten the State's credit with 
destruction, because of the irregularities which the government inaugurated 
by reconstruction brought into existence. With caution in future, and with 
some check upon the multitude of railway schemes constantly proposed, Georgia 
can easily carry all the debt she has contracted, until she finds herself able 
to discharge it honorably. Railroad building and speculation have always 
been passions dear to the Georgian heart; and, within thirty years, more than 
$40,000,000 were invested in lines built in the State. 

So feverish has become the railroad mania that there is a class who are in 
favor of an inhibition of State aid to works of internal improvement, and who 

* The population of Georgia, in i860, was 1,057,286, divided into 591,550 whites, 2500 free 
and 462,198 slave blacks. In 1870, the population was 1,200,609; number of blacks, 545,132. 



would be glad to sec a clause to that effect inserted in the Constitution. It is 
expected that in due time a convention will be called for the purpose of altering 
the Constitution in many ways, as the Georgia Conservative press and politicians 
are clamorous for one to take the place of " the instrument dignified with that 
name and forced upon the people by Federal intervention." 

Autumn-time in Georgia, when harvest is nearly over, is brisk and redolent 
of inspiring gayety. In the last days of November the towns and cities are filled 
with the planters from hundreds of miles round about ; money flows plentifully ; 
at Savannah there are agricultural fairs, races, reviews of the fine military organ- 
izations which the city boasts, balls, and wassail. The halls of the Screven and 
the Pulaski, Savannah's two prime hotels, echo to the cheery laugh of the tall 
and handsome planter, as well as to the cough of the Northern invalid. On a 
bright day in December, when a stiff breeze is blowing through the odorous 
foliage. Savannah presents an aspect of gayety and vivacity hardly Southern 
in character. Elegant equipages dash along the hard white roads leading to the 
pretty river-side resort known as " Thunderbolt," or the sombre, mystical aisles 
of the " Bonaventure" cemetery. Where the Tatnall family once lived in regal 
splendor, Savannah now buries its dead. There are many fine monuments in 

the Forest Cemetery, but 
no marble can vie in beauty 
and grandeur with the 
mighty yet graceful live 
oaks which spread their 
arched boughs and superb 

From Bonaventure one 
may look out across the 
lowlands traversed by estu- 
aries, along which steamers 
crawl on the inland route 
to Florida; or may stray 
into cool pineries ; and, re- 
turning, find himself beneath 
such lofty domes, or such 
broad and majestic aisles, 
with pavements of tesselated 
sun and shade, that he will 
start with surprise to dis- 
cover, upon awaking from 
his day-dream, that he is 
^> *' I not wandering in some giant 

"Forsyth park contains a massive fountain." [Page 369.] Cathedral. Thc inhabitants 

of Savannah have the delights of sea-bathing and sea air within a few miles of 
town at such pretty resorts as the "Thunderbolt," the Isle of Hope, Beaulieu, 
Montgomery, and White Bluff. 

^-w-^-v ^"^ 



From the steeple of the venerable Exchange one can get, here and there, 
glimpses of Savannah's especial curiosities. On Bull street he can see the 
Masonic Hall, where the ordinance of secession was passed in 1861 ; and, pierc- 
ing the foliage, the tall spire of the Independent Presbyterian Church, or St. 
John's, or the Ionic proportions of Christ Qiurch, in the parish over which John 
Wesley was once rector ; and may look down into parks where flashing fountains 
scatter their spray-jets upon lovely beds of flowers. Forsyth park contains a 
massive fountain, around which, as in continental cities, troops of children and 
their nurses are always straying. In Monument square rises a handsome shaft 
to the memory of Greene and Pulaski. Monument square is one of the principal 
centres in Savannah, and around it are grouped the hotels and the State Bank 
edifice; the Bank itself exists no longer. The Pulaski monument, a beautiful 
marble shaft, surrounded by a figure of the Goddess of Liberty, ornaments still 

another square. Wandering 
up Bull, or Drayton, or along 
Broad streets, one sees shop, 
tlieatre, public hall, market, 
luxurious private dwellings, 
many-balconied and cool, and 
fountain and monument; yet 
feels around him the tranquillity 
and beauty of the Southern 
forest. Each one of the 30,000 
inhabitants of Savannah should 
carry a benediction in his heart 
for the founders of the colony, 
who gave Savannah such scope 
for gardens and parks, for fount- 
ains and shaded avenues. 

A bavannah Sergeant 
of Pulice. 

The municipal contibl of the 
town thus pleasantly situated 
is very nearly perfect. The 
police corps is a military or- 
ganization, clothed in Confed- 
erate gray, subject to strict 
discipline, armed with rifles, 
revolvers and sabres, and occu- 
pying a handsome garrison 
barracks in a central location. 
It is one of the prides of the 
city, and General Anderson, 
an ex- United States and Con- 
federate officer, keeps it in 
perfect discipline. Only now 
and then, in the troublesome 

days of reconstruction, did it come into collision with the factions at election time. 
One policeman wanders over each ward every night. There is but little violation 
of law, save in the brawls incidental to a seaport, and the larcenies arising from 
the undeveloped moral consciousness of the freedman. The negroes no longer 
have any voice whatever in political matters, and are not represented in the City 
Government. The registration law in the city, which was in force at the outset of 
reconstruction, has been abolished. There are only 400 negro voters registered 
in the city. The banking capital of Savannah was decreased from $12,000,000 
to $3,000,000 by the war, but the city owes comparatively little money, has a 
valuation of $16,000,000, and manages to do much business on small capital. 

Education in the city, and in the thickly settled county of Chatham surround- 
ing it, is making far better progress than in the back-country. In 1866 the Board 
of Education in Savannah was made a corporate body, and a most excellent 
system of schools for white children was inaugurated, to which have now been 
added several schools for the colored children. The Peabody Fund does its good 
work there, as elsewhere. Twenty-five hundred white children attend the ses- 


K D U C A 1 I O N IN S A V A N N A H 

sions, but only 400 or 500 out of the 3,000 nc^ro children in Savannah have been 
accorded facilities. There is a good deal of absurd prejudice in Savannah against 
the colored man yet, and, although the Board seems inclined to do its duty, the 
citizens do not urge any effective effort to raise Sambo out of his ignorance. 
Savannah is quite rich in private, educational, charitable and literary institutions, 

General Sherman's Head -quarters — b. 

prominent among which are the Union Society and the Female Asylum for 
Orphans, the former on the site of the Orphan House which Whitfield established 
in 1740. The Georgia Historical and Medical Societies are flourishing, and of 
excellent reputation. The house occupied by General Sherman as his head- 
quarters, after the capture of Savannah during the late war, is still pointed out 
to visitors. 


G E O R Cx I A N A G R I C U L T U R li " C R A ( : K K R S " COL U M li US .MACON. 


IT is not without some little bitterness that a Georgia journalist recently 
wrote : " A Georgia farmer uses a Northern axe-helve and axe to cut 
up the hickory growing within sight of his door; ploughs his fields with a 
Northern plough ; chops out his cotton with a New England hoe ; gins his 
cotton upon a Boston gin; hoops it with Pennsylvania iron; hauls it to mar- 
ket in a Concord wagon, while the little grain that he raises is cut and prepared 
for sale with Yankee implements. We find the Georgia housewife cooking 
with an Albany stove ; and even the food, especially the luxuries, are imported 
from the North. Georgia's fair daughters are clothed in Yankee muslins and 
decked in Massachusetts ribbons and Rhode Island jewelry." 

Yea, verily ! Throughout the cotton States this statement holds true. 
In the interior cotton districts of Georgia there is often a great deal of 
pecuniary distress, because the condition of the market or the failure of the 
crop presses sorely on those who have given no care to raise anything for 
self-support, and who have staked their all on cotton. Diversified industry 
would make of Georgia, in twenty years, a second New York ; for even in 
her present ill-organized condition she actually makes great progress. The 
creation of manufacturing centres like Columbus, Macon, Albany, Thomaston, 
Augusta, Atlanta, Marietta, .Athens, and Dalton is encouraging, but much 
remains to be done. Only about five millions of dollars are invested in tlie 
manufacture of cotton and woolen goods in the State as yet, and the grand 
water power of the Chattahoochee still remains but little employed. Agricul- 
ture must, therefore, be the main stay of the commonwealth, and the pros- 
pect is, on the whole, encouraging. 

The present cash value of the farms in Georgia is considerably more than 
one hundred million dollars, and might be doubled by something like syste- 
matic and thorough cultivation. The number of small farms is steadily increasing, 
and the negroes have acquired a good deal of land which, in the cotton sec- 
tions, they recklessly devote entirely to the staple, with an improvidence and 
carelessness of the future which is bewildering to the foresighted observer. 
They are fond of the same pleasures which their late masters give themselves 
so freely — hunting, fishing, and lounging ; pastimes which tlie superb forests, 
the noble streams, the charming climate minister to very strongly. In the 
lower part of the State, in the piney woods and swamps, the inhabitants are 
indolent, uneducated, complaining and shiftless. They are all of the same 



stamp as the old woman who cxphiiiicd to a htinfrry and thirst)- traveler that 
they could n't give him any milk, " because the dog was dead ! " Applying 
his perceptive powers to this singular remark, he discovered that the defunct 
dog had been wont to dri\c up the cows to be milked at eventide, and that 

since his death it had not 
occurred to any of the 
family to go themselves 
in search of the kine. 
People who have plenty 
of cattle, and might raise 
the finest beef and mut- 
ton, rarely see milk or 
butter, and wear out their 
systems with indigestible 
pork and poor whiskey. 
Their indolence, igno- 
rance, and remoteness 
from any well-ordered 
farming regions are the 
excuses. These are the 
sallow and lean people 
who always feel " tolla- 
ble," but who never feel 
well; a people of dry fibre 
and coarse existence, yet 
not devoid of wit and 
good sense. 

The Georgia "cracker"" 
is eminently shiftless ; he 

A Pair of Georgia "Crackers." SCCniS tO faUCy that he 

was born with his hands in his pockets, his back curved, and his slouch 
hat crowded over his eyes, and does his best to maintain this attitude forever. 
Quarrels, as among the lower classes generally throughout the South, grow 
into feuds, cherished for years, until some day, at the cross-roads, or the country- 
tavern, a pistol or a knife puts a bloody and often a fatal end to the difficulty. 
There is, in all the sparsely settled agricultural portion of Georgia, too much 
popular vengeance, too much taking the law into one's own hands; but there 
is a gradual growth of opinion against this, and even now it is by no means 
so pronounced as in Kentucky and some other more northward States. The 

"d n nigger" is usually careful to be unobtrusive in quarrels with white 

men, as the rural Caucasian has a kind of subdued thirst for negro gore, which, 
when once really awakened, is not readily appeased. Yet, on the whole, consid- 
ering the character which the revolution has assumed in Georgia since the fall of 
the reconstruction government there, it is astonishing that the two races get on 
so well together as they do. 


:>/ 5 

Columbus, on the border of Alabama, separated from that State by the Chat- 
tahoochee river, which gives it an outlet to the Gulf, through Florida, is a lively, 
thriving town, which must one day rival Lowell or Manchester, because its water 
power is exceptionally fine. The river, some distance above the city, flows 
through a rugged and beautiful ravine, where the best building stone is to 
be had. It is said by competent authorities that along the stream, within two 
miles of the city, there are sixty sites, each large enough for the establishment of 
a capacious factory. Columbus impressed me more favorably than any other 
manufacturing town I had seen in the far South. It lies right at the centre of the 
cotton belt, is pierced by six important railways, receives about 1 30,000 cotton 
bales yearly, and in the mills of the Columbus Manufacturing, and Eagle and 
Phoenix Companies, employs hundreds of women and children. The streets are 
wide and cheery ; the shops and stores quite fine ; the residences pretty ; the 
little town of Girard across the river, built by the mill proprietors as a home for 
their operatives, is charming ; there is an aspect of life, and energy, and content 
in the place strongly contrasted with the dead and stagnant towns, of which I had 
seen so many. True, there were hosts of idle negroes roosting in shady places 
about the squares, and under the porticoes, but they are found everywhere in the 
South. The managers of the cotton-mills will not employ them in their estab- 
lishments. When I asked one of the superintendents why not, he smiled quaintly, 
and said : " Put a negro in one of those rooms with a hundred looms, and the 
noise would put him to sleep." To which, never having seen the "man and 
brother " under the specified circumstances, I could, of course, make no answer. 

Columbus has direct water communication with Texas, the great wool market 
of the future, and could supply woolen- mills very readily and cheaply. The 
Columbus manufactur- 
ers claim that a bale 
of cotton can be man- 
ufactured twenty-two 
dollars cheaper there 
than in or near Boston, 
and that their labor is 
thirty per cent, cheap- 
er, while they are never 
subject to obstructions 
from ice.* The opera- 
tives in the mills were 
evidently saving mo- 
ney, and their houses 
and gardens were 
models of neatness and 
comfort. After riding all day through regions where the log- cabin was oftener 
seen than the frame-house, and where the forests still hold possession of nine- 

* The first cotton factory established at Macon has sometimes divided twenty-one per cent, 
yearly, and is gradually accumulating a very large surplus fund. 

The Eagle and Phcenix Cotton -Mills — Columbus, Georgia. 


tentlis of the land, it was refreshin<j to come upon a town of such cncrg}-, activity 
and prospects as Cohimbus. 

The journey from Savannah lo Macon carries one well out of tiie lowlands 
into a high, rolling country, admirably suited to cotton- raising. Macon is the 
site of the»annual Georgia fair, which, late in autumn, all the planters attend. 
The smaller towns around about it on the various lines of .rail are not very prom- 
ising in appearance. The unpainted houses seem deserted until one sees half- 
a-dozen negro children pop their heads abo\e the window-sills, and the "judge," 
and the " colonel," and the "doctor " come lazil}' to the train to get the mail and 
the newspaper. In most of the towns the train-conductor is looked upon with 
awe, and is invariabi}' addressed as "captain." The railroads are well managed 
in everything save speed, and the natives traveling are always civil and commu- 
nicative. Macon is picturesquely perched on a hill, around which a densely 
w'ooded country stretches away in all directions. The Ocmulgee river winds 
between broken and romantic banks not far from the town ; and near it are 
many Indian mounds and the site of a venerable fort, used during the wars with 
the Cherokees. The cotton factories, large iron foundries and the railway activity 
of j\Iacon, give it even a more sprightly appearance than Columbus ; but the lat- 
ter has 15,000 population, while Macon has but 10,000. The Wesleyan P"emale 
College and the Southern Botanic-Medical Institute, as well as the State Academy 
for the Blind, are located at Macon. From the pretty Rose Hill cemetery the 
outlook over the Ocmulgee is very fine. 

Society is good and cultured in Savannah and in most of the large towns 
through the State. There is still bitterness and ostracism for him who votes 
the Republican ticket, whether he comes with the odor of carpet -baggery 
about him or not. Savannah is more courteous and liberal in her sentiments 
than a few years since, but keeps up a latent bitter feeling, ready to be flashed 
out on good occasions. These remarks do not apply Avith so much force to 
the gentlemen as to the ladies, for the average Southern man is altogether too 
American and too frank to show resentment toward individuals because they 
represent the best element of a party whose worst elements are obnoxious to 
him. There is a tendency among large numbers of the men to sink politics, 
and to attend with all their energies to business. But all seem determined to 
make Georgia's government one "for white men;" and whenever there is any 
need for concerted action, every one is alert. Still it is morally certain that 
before a continued prosperity all political troubles will finally disappear. The 
labor question is the important one for Georgia, and all the other cotton States, 
to settle. The negro, after he discovers what he loses by allowing himself 
to be intimidated or talked out of his vote, will learn to respect it, and use it 
intelligently. The negroes of the State are possessed of no small acuteness 
and power . of development, and, wherever there are educational facilities for it, 
they speedily improve them. The especial need of the race is good teachers, 
raised from its own ranks, and the creation of the university at Atlanta for the 
colored population was one of the most beneficent works of the American Mis- 
sionary Society. 



The Georgia Unjversity at Athens, frequented, of course, exclusively by 
whites, is an excellent institution. It was endowed by the Legislature in 1788, 
but did not begin its sessions until i8o[, since which time it has been noted 
among Southern literary institutions. Milledgcville, the quondam capital of 
Georgia, is a quaint and pretty little town on the Oconee river, not far from 
Macon. The State asylum for the insane is located there, and the legislators 
now and then ominously mutter that they would like to remove all the govern- 
mental machinery from Atlanta back to the old governmental seat ; but the 
Atlanta influence is powerful against such a movement. 

The deft and graceful pen of that sprightly and distinguished Georgian 
poet, Mr. Paul H. Hayne, is fitter than mine to paint aright the charms of the 
Georgia lowland scenery. To a poet's verse belong the inexpressible charms of 
the dark green and sombre foliage, the hurry of waters on the white, low beaches, 
the sighing of the wind through the long and dainty moss-beards, and the 
magical effects of sunrise and moonrise on the broad and placid current of the 
Savannah. To verse belong the many stories and legends of the chain of fertile 
islands strung along the Georgian coast, 
from Tybce to Cumberland. These 
island plantations have been fast falling 
into decay since the close of the war, 
and the culture of sea-island cotton on 
them has experienced many sad re- 
verses. The war left its scars on these 
islands. The Union troops seized Ty- 
bee, near the mouth of the Savannah, 
as early as 1862, and from it bombarded 
that superb fortification, Fort Pulaski, 
on Cockspur Island. The massive walls 
of Pulaski, on which the United States 
had lavished money and skill, only to • ihc old ion ..n Xybee island, Georgia. 

find it turned against them, yielded to the terrible summons -hurled at them 
from the mouths of rifled cannon and mortars ; and the battered stones loom 
up to-day, a sad memorial to the passer-by on the river of the havoc wrought 
by civil war. 

Journeying along the coast, one passes Warsaw Sound, where the plucky 
little monitors captured the iron-clad "Atlanta" in 1863; and a sail up the 
Ogeechee river will bring one to the scene of the brave defense of Fort McAl- 
lister, whose little garrison, stirred by a sense of duty, held grimly on, long after 
Sherman was at the gates of Savannah with a victorious army, and the Union 
fleet kept the coast blockaded — long after they had been cut off from all hope 
of relief; held on until captured and literally crushed down by overwhelm- 
ing numbers. The many lagoons which penetrate the low and fertile lands 
are easily accessible, and on the islands there will in future be delightful homes, 
when a fresh and numerous population shall have come to a State whose 
only need is more people. The Atlantic coast of Georgia, seen from the deck 


C U M H K K I. A N 1 > 1 S 1, A N li — I L K N A X IJ 1 N A . 

of an ocean steamer, seems low and uninteresting, — (mly . a few sand-hillocks 
now and then looming above the lev^el of the waves, — but a nearer approach 
shows luxuriant vegetation and enviable richness of soil. From h'ernandina, in 
North-western Florida, one can easily reach Cumberland Island, the old home 
of General Henry Lee of revolutionary fame, and the scene of sharp fighting 
between British and Americans in 1815. On this, as on the neighboring islands, 
the orange grows luxuriantly, and, with a return to careful and thorough culture, 
the cotton crop there could be made of immense value. 

Fernandina is a fine old seaport, with a land-locked harbor in which more 
than 300 square-rigged vessels were anchored at one time during the war of 
1812. The largest ships can unload without difficulty at its excellent wharves, 
and vessels from all climes come there to load with the lumber which is the main 
article of export. The sugar and cotton plantations, and the orange groves in 
the vicinity were highly prosperous before the war. The beach, eighteen miles 
long, affords delightful drives, and many Northern visitors remain in the ven- 
erable town throughout the winter months. Fernandina is the seat of the Epis- 
copal bishopric of Florida, and the bishop there has charge of a flourishing 
academy for young ladies. 





1 ENTERED Florida on a frosty morning. Thin flakes of ice had formed in 
the little pools along the railway's sides, and the Northern visitors in the 
Pullman car shrouded themselves in their traveling-blankets and grumbled 
bitterly. Here and there, in the forests' gaps, the negroes had kindled huge 


Moonlight over Jacksonville, Floridx 

fires, and were grouped about them, toasting their heads and freezing their 
backs. Now and then we caught glimpses of beautiful thickets ; we passed long 
stretches of field carpeted with thick growths of palmetto ; with intervening pine- 
barrens, and freight platforms of logs. 

It is 263 miles by the present rail route from Savannah to Jacksonville, the 
chief city of Florida, and the rendezvous for all travelers who intend to penetrate 
to the interior of the beautiful peninsula. The train traverses the distance at the 
comfortable speed of twelve miles an hour ; from time to time, half an hour is 
consumed in wooding up, — an operation performed in the most leisurely manner 


by the negroes, — and one arrives in Jacksonville after a night's travel. The cur- 
rents of Northern comers jiour in by three great streams — the Atlantic and 
(lulf rail route from Savannah, the outside steamers from Charleston, which 
ascend the St. John's river as far as Palatka, and the -inland route from Savannah, 
which conducts the traveler along a series of estuaries and lagoons between the 
fertile sea islands and the main-land. 

By the first of these routes, one passes but few towns of importance. 
Neither at Live Oak, the junction where one reaches the Jacksonville, Pensacola 
and Mobile railroad, nor at Wellborn, nor at Lake City, is there anything to 
answer to one's ideas of the typical Florida town. The rail route passes Olustee, 
the site of a fierce engagement in T^ebruary, 1864, between Federals and Con- 
federates, in which the fqrmcr were defeated. At Baldwin one comes to the 
Florida railroad, grappled to Fernandina, northward, on the Atlantic, and 
stretching away through Duval, Bradford, Alachua, and Leroy counties to Cedar 
Keys, on the Gulf coast. 

When we reached Jacksonville the frost had vanished, and two days there- 
after the genial December sun bade the thermometer testify to 80 degrees in the 
shade. Here and there we saw a tall banana, whose leaves had been yellowed 
by the frost's breath ; but the oranges were unscathed, and the Floridians 

Pause with me at the gateway of the great peninsula, and reflect for a moment 
upon its history. Fact and fancy wander here hand in hand ; the airy chronicles 
of the ancient fathers hover upon the confines of the impossible. The austere 
Northerner and the cynical European have been heard to murmur incredulously 
at the tales of the modern writers who grow enthusiastic upon the charms of our 
new winter paradise. Yet, what of fiction could exceed in romantic interest the 
history of this venerable State ? What poet's imagination, seven times heated, 
could paint foliage whose splendors should surpass that of the virgin forests of 
the Oclawaha and Indian rivers? What "fountain of youth" could be imagined 
more redolent of enchantment than the " Silver Spring," now annually visited by 
50,000 tourists ? The subtle moonlight, the perfect glory of the dying sun as he 
sinks below a horizon fringed with fantastic trees, the perfume faintly borne from 
the orange grove, the murmurous music of the waves along the inlets, and the 
mangrove-covered banks, are beyond words. 

" Canst thou copy in verse one chime 
Of the vvoodbell's peal and cry ? 
Write in a book the morning's prime, 
Or match with words that tender sky?" 

Our American Italy has not a mountain within its boundaries. Extending" 
from 25 degrees to 31 degrees north latitude, it has an area of 60,000 square 
miles. Nearly 400 miles in length, it has the latitude of Northern Mexico, the 
desert of Sahara, Central Arabia, Southern China, and Northern Hindostan ; but 
its heats are tempered by the Gulf of Mexico on the one hand, and the Gulf 
Stream, which flows along the eastern coast for 300 miles, on the other. Over 


the level breadth of ninety miles between these two waters constantly blow odor- 
ous and health-giving ocean winds, and under their influence and that of the 
genial sun springs up an almost miraculous sub-tropical vegetation. It is the 
home of the palmetto and the cabbage palm, the live oak and the cypress, the 
mistletoe with its bright green leaves and red berries, the Spanish moss, the 
ambitious mangrove, the stately magnolia, the smilax cJiina, the orange, the 
myrtle, the water-lily, the jessamine, the cork-tree, the sisal-hemp, the grape, and 
the cocoanut. There the Northerner, wont to boast of the brilliant sunsets of his 
own clime, finds all his past experiences outdone. In the winter months, soft 
breezes come caressingly ; the whole peninsula is carpeted with blossoms, and the 
birds sing sweetly in the untrodden thickets. It has the charm of wildness, of 
mystery ; it is untamed ; civilization has not stained it. No wonder the Indian 
fought ferociously ere he suffered himself to be banished from this charming land. 

The beautiful peninsula has been the ambition of many nationalities. First 
came the hardy Venetian, Cabot, to whose father Henry the Seventh accorded the 
right to navigate all seas under the English flag. In 1497, groping blindly, 
doubtless, like his father before him, for the passage to Cathay, Cabot touched at 
Florida. Early in the sixteenth century came Ponce de Leon, the chimerical old 
Governor of Porto Rico, who vainly sought in the recesses of the peninsula for 
the fabled " Fountain of Youth," and perished in a broil with the savages. To 
him our gratitude is due for the name which the fair land has kept through all 
the changes of domination which have fallen to its lot. During his second search 
after the treasure, landing on Palm Sunday,* amid groves of towering palm-trees, 
and noting the profusion of flowers everywhere, the pious knight christened the 
country " Florida." After him came other Spaniards, bent on proselyting 
Indians by kidnapping and enslaving them ; but speedy vengeance fell on these 
ignoble fellows ; the Indians massacred them by scores. Then Narvaez, and the 
Spaniards in his train, waded through the dangerous lagoons and dreary swamps, 
fought the Indians from behind breastworks made of rotten trees, and finally 
perished in storms along the treacherous coast. Nothing daunted, and fresh 
from triumphs in other lands, De Soto followed, overrunning with his army the 
vast extent of territory which the Spaniards claimed under the name of Florida, 
and which extended from the Chesapeake to the Tortugas. 

The defiaite settlement of Florida by Europeans was consecrated by a 
massacre, by which the fanatical Spaniard added fresh infamy to his already 
tarnished name. When Coligny had received from Charles the Ninth of France 
permission to found a colony upon the peninsula, and Ribault's expedition had 
erected a monument near the mouth of the St: John's river, ere sailing to found 
the settlement at Port Royal, the Spaniards were enraged ; and as soon as, in 
1564, Laudonniere's expedition had founded Fort Caroline on a little eminence 
a few miles from the mouth of the St. John's (then called the river May), active 
hostilities were begun by Spain. The counter expedition of Menendez de Avila 
resulted in the massacre of all the Huguenots at Fort Caroline ; and the grim 
Spaniards placed an inscription on the spot stating that " the murdered ones had 

* In Spanish, Pasaia Florida. 


been slain, not as Frenchmen, but as heretics." Two years later came Nemcsi.s, 
in the person of the brave Protestant Chevalier, Dominique de Gourgues of 
France, who relentlessly slew the Spaniards settled on the site of the old Fort 
Caroline, and hanged many of them, averring by an inscription above them 
that it was not done "as to Spaniards, but to traitors, robbers, and murderers." 

The town which Menendez established on the site of the Indian village of 
Scloo, and which he named St. Augustine, was the first permanent Furopean 
settlement in North America. In the eighteenth century the British gained 
possession of Florida. The American colonists had already unsuccessfully tried 
to gain St. Augustine; but were destined to wait a century longer. In 1781 
the English lost their hold, and the territory reverted to Spain, only to be pur- 
chased by the United States in 18 19, after Fernandina and Pensacola had been 
taken by American arms. Ceded and re-ceded, sacked and pillaged, languishing 
undeveloped through a colonial existence of 200 years, shocked to its centre by 
terrible Indian wars, and plunged into a war of secession at the moment when it 
was hoping for rest and stability, the lovely land seems indeed to have been the 
prey of a stern yet capricious fate. 

It is not wonderful, in view of the perturbed condition of the peninsula, since 
its discovery, that to-day it has hardly more than a quarter of a million of inhab- 
itants, and that its rich lands remain untilled. The weight of the slave system 
kept it down, after the Government of the United States had guaranteed it 
against the wonted invasions and internal wars ; the remoteness from social 
centres enforced by the plantation life made its populations careless of the enter- 
prise and thrift which characterize a country filled with rich and thriving towns ; 
and the few acres which were tilled were forced to exhaustion by the yearly 
production of the same staple. Now, with more than 33,000,000 of acres 
within its limits, it has barely 3,000,000 partially improved, and on its 10,000 
farms much is still woodland. Large farms and plantations have, through- 
out the State, decreased, and small ones have multiplied, but the total yearly 
value of farm products now rises hardly above $11,000,000 or $12,000,000, 
while the value of its home manufactures is but a couple of hundred thousand 
dollars. With 1,100 miles of practicable coast line, studded with excellent bays, 
and with such noble navigable rivers as the St. John's, the St. Mary's, the 
Appalachicola, and the Suwanee, it is strange that a larger commerce has not 
sprung up within the State limits. 

We will not be too statistical. Imagine yourself transferred from the trying 
climate of the North or North-west into the gentle atmosphere of the Floridian 
peninsula, seated just at sunset in an arm-chair, on some of the verandas which 
overlook the pretty square in Jackspnville. Your face is fanned by the warm 
December breeze, and the chippering of the birds mingles with the music which 
the negro band is playing in yonder portico. The lazy, ne'er-do-well negro 
boys playing in the sand so abundant in all the roads, have the unconscious pose 
and careless grace of Neapolitan beggars.' Here and there among the dusky 
race is a face beautiful as was ever that of olive-brown maid in Messina. This 
is the South, slumbrous, voluptuous, round and graceful. Here beauty peeps 



4A\\i \vlii 

from every door-yard. Mere exist- 
ence is pleasure ; exertion is a bore. 
Through orange -trees and grand 
oaks thickly bordering the broad 
avenues gleams the wide current of 
the St. John's river. Parallel with 
it runs Bay street, Northern in ap- 
pearance, with brick blocks on 
either side, with crowds of smartly 
dressed tourists hurrying through 
it, with a huge " National Hotel," 
with banks, with elegant shops. 
Fine shell roads run out beyond 
the town limits, in either direction. 
Riding toward the river's mouth, 
which is twenty -five miles below 
the town, one comes to marshes 
and broad expanses of luscious 
green thicket. Passing the long 
rows of steam saw-mills, — Jackson- 
ville is a flourishing lumber port, — 
one comes to the point of debarca- 
tion for milHons of feet of pine 
lumber, shingles and staves, and 
great quantities of naval stores. 
The fleet of sailing vessels used in 
this trade find at the new city as 
fine a port as the country can 

The St. John's, at Jacksonville, 
makes a crescent bend, not unlike 
that of the Mississippi at New 
Orleans. Nearly two miles broad 
directly in front of the wharves, it 
widens to an expanse of six miles a 
little way above, offering superb 
opportunities for commerce. The 
bar at its mouth is nearly always 
practicable for large ocean steam- 
ers, and they run with ease to 
Palatka, sixty miles above Jackson- 
ville. The journey is charming 
from the river's mouth, past Baton 
island, the residence of the hardy 
river pilots, and the site of two 



excellent light- houses; past the mounds of oyster- shells, through which 
tangled shrubbery has pierced a difficult way ; past the intensely white dunes, 
glistening under the sun, and ghastly and weird under the moonlight; past 
the little eminence known as St. John's Bluff, the location of old Fort Caroline, 
where Menendez massacred the unfortunate Huguenots; and past Yellow Bluff, 
with its ancient Spanish ramparts. Along the river-side, on elevated ground 
beyond the commercial part of the town, many New York and Boston gentle- 
men have erected elegant residences, and the climate has already seduced them 
from even a summer allegiance to their Northern birthplaces. The view from 
" Riverside " is charming. 

It is not a score of years since there was a corn-field on the site of Bay street, 
now the chief avenue of a city of twelve thousand inhabitants. Jacksonville was 
once known as "Cow Ford." There the "King's Road," in the old days, crossed 
the river, and connected the northern settlements with St. Augustine. During 
the war it ran to decay; it was strongly fortified, and was clung to desperately 
by the Confederates. The Union troops occupied it then several times, and on 
the third assault a fire sprang out, which did much damage. At the close of the 
great struggle, the grass stood waist-high in the streets, and the cattle had taken 
refuge from the sun in the deserted houses. But the North has swept on in such 
a resistless current that, so far as its artificial features are concerned, the city has 
grow^n up according to the New England pattern, though foliage, climate, sun — 
all these are the antipodes of those of the North ! 

A good many people fancy that, in going to Florida, they are about to absent 
themselves from all the accessories of civilization, — that they must undergo con- 
siderable privation. Nothing could better correct this impression than a stay of 
a few days in Jacksonville. Such good hotels as the St. James and the National, 
such well-ordered streets, such charming suburbs as " Brooklyn " and " River- 
side " and " La Villa " and " Wyoming," w^here the invalid can find the coveted 
repose and enjoy the delicious climate ; such an abundance of newspapers and 
books, of carriages and saddle-horses, and such convenient access to all other 
desirable points along the great river, are sufficient to satisfy even the most 
querulous. Jacksonville is filled with pleasant houses where lodgings are let; and 
from December until April its population is doubled ; society is active ; excur- 
sions, parties, and receptions occur almost daily ; gayety rules the hour. For it 
is not invalids alone who crowd Florida now-a-days, but the wealthy and the well. 
One-fourth of the annual visitors are in pursuit of health ; the others are crusad- 
ing to find the phantom Pleasure. Fully one-half of the resident population of 
Jacksonville is Northern, and has settled there since the war. The town boasts 
excellent public schools for white and black children ; the Catholics have estab- 
lished educational institutions there, and there are several fine churches. The 
winter evenings are delightful. In the early days of December, on my first visit, 
the mercury during the day ranged from 79 to 80 degrees, but at nightfall sank 
to 70 degrees, and the cool breeze from the river produced a most delicious 



THE St. John's river is a capricious stream, and the Indians characterized it 
for its waywardness as "Il-la-ka," — meaning that "it had its own way, 
which was contrary to every other." Its actual source no man knows, though it 
seems to be formed by a myriad of small streams pouring out of the unexplored 
region along the Indian river. It is four hundred miles in length, and here and 
there broadens into lakes from six to twelve miles wide. The banks are low and 
flat, but bordered with a wealth of exquisite foliage to be seen nowhere else upon 
this continent. One passes for hundreds of miles through a grand forest of 
cypresses robed in moss and mistletoe; of palms towering gracefully far above the 
surrounding trees, of palmettoes whose rich trunks gleam in the sun ; of swamp, 
white and black ash, of magnolia, of 
water oak, of poplar, and of plane- 
tree ; and, where hummocks rise a few 
feet above the water-level, the sweet 
bay, the olive, the cotton-tree, the 
juniper, the red cedar, the sweet gum, 
the live oak, shoot up their splendid 
stems ; while among the shrubbery 
and inferior growths one may note 
the azalea, the sumach, the sensitive- 
plant, the agave, the poppy, the mal- 
low and the nettle. The vines run 
not in these thickets, but over them. 
The fox grape clambers along the 
branches, and the woodbine and bign- 
onia escalade the haughtiest forest 
monarchs. When the steamer nears 
the shore, one can see far through the 
tangled thickets the gleaming water 
out of which rise thousands of " cy- 
press-knees," looking exactly like so 
many champagne bottles set into the 
current to cool. The heron and the crane saucily watch the shadow which 
the approaching boat throws near their retreat. The wary monster- turtle gazes 
for an instant, with his black head cocked knowingly on one side, then disap- 
pears with a gentle slide and a splash. An alligator grins familiarly as a dozen 

Residence of Mrs. Harriet Beecher btowe, at Mandarin, 
Florida. [Page 386.] 



revolvers are pointed at him over the boat's side, suddenly "winks with his tail," 
and vanishes ! as the bullet meant for his tough hide skims harmlessly over the 
ripples left above him. 

The noble stream appears of a dark blue, as one sails along it, but, taken up 
in a glass, the water is of a light coffee color, a thin scum sometimes rising to its 
surface. Its slightly brackish taste is accounted for by the fact that the ocean 
tides are often perceptible as far up as Lake George. Many insist that there must 
be springs along the channel of the river, as they cannot otherwise account for 
its great volume. For its whole length of four hundred miles, it affords glimpses 
of perfect beauty. One ceases to regret hills and mountains, and can hardly 

Green Cove Springs, on the Sl John's River, Florida. [Page 386.] 

imagine ever having thought them necessary, so much do these visions surpass 
them. It is not grandeur which one finds on the banks of the great stream, 
it is nature run riot. The very irregularity is delightful, the decay is charming, 
the solitude is picturesque. The bitter-sweet orange grows in wild profusion 
along the St. John's and its tributary streams; thousands of orange-trees demand 
but transplanting and careful culture to become prolific fruit-bearers. 

The local steamers which ascend the river from Jacksonville regularly leave 
the wharves at eleven in the morning, though advertised for nine, as it has been 
a tradition, time out of mind, that they shall be two hours late. This brace of 
hours will be well spent by the traveler, however, if he seats himself on the deck 
and watches the proceedings on the wharf A multitude of drays, driven by 


ragged negroes, come and go incessantly, bringing every conceivable kind of mer- 
chandise and household goods ; the deck hands carry piles of lumber, baskets of 
eggs, crates of crockery, hoist in kicking and biting mules, toss aboard half-a- 
hundred chickens tied by the legs ; stow away two or three portable houses des- 
tined for the far interior, where some lone lumbermen are felling the massive 
cypresses ; and finally fill in the interstices with coal, chains, fertilizers, salt pork, 
garden seeds, mail-bags, and an unimaginable hodge-podge. Meantime, if the 
boat you have taken be her favorite, "Aunt Rose," the venerable river steward- 
ess, — one of the characters along the Jacksonville wharves, — has danced up and 
down the gang-planks a hundred times with various letters and packages. Even 
though the day be hot, you find that a cool breeze comes from the dense thickets 
and forests bordering the current, for you go up the stream at a rapid pace when 
at last the little craft moves off. 

It used to be said, a few years since, that the St. John's banks, from its 
mouth to its source, were strewn with the wrecks of orange groves. After the 
war, hundreds of Northerners who knew little of Florida rushed in, dug up the 
wild orange-trees from the swamps, and transplanted them along the river banks; 
leaving them with the firm belief that they would care for themselves, and that, 
in a few years, golden fortunes would hang on every tree. But these careless 
cultivators were doomed to bitter disappointment; hardly any of them succeeded. 
In their train, however, came Northerners who made a study of the culture, and 
now there are dozens of noble groves scattered up and down the river, and a 
score of years hence the perfume of the orange leaf will be encountered at every 
point along the stream. 

When the war closed there was not a wharf left on the river. Federal and 
Confederate had warred and wasted, and to-day for memento there lies in the 
stream, some distance above Jacksonville, a sunken gun-boat, its engine gear just 
showing above the waves. Inquiring of a venerable Floridian how it happened 
to be there, I was informed that " the durned Yankees' shot was too hot for 

The journey from Jacksonville to Tocoi is delightful, though one's first experi- 
ence of the great river has a zest which no subsequent one can rival. Stemming 
the current, which, under the brilliant noonday sunshine, seems a sheet of 
molten silver, the steamer passes little tugs, drawing in their train immense rafts 
of cypress and pine logs; or salutes, with three loud shrieks, the ponderous "City 
Point" or "Dictator, "from Charleston. The cattle, knee-deep in water, are feed- 
ing on the fresh herbage springing from the sand-bars; hundreds of little fish are 
leaping out of the current and falling back again, their shining bodies coquettishly 
bent as if they were making mock of the sun. Sometimes the boat enters a 
pleasant inlet, where the pines on the shores have cut across the " hummock " 
and stand quaintly draped in Spanish moss, as if they had come to be baptized. 
Fifteen miles from Jacksonville, on the eastern shore, is the pretty town of Man- 
darin, so called from the culture there of that variety of the orange. Through 
the trees gleam white cottages. Orange groves, with the golden fruit glistening 
among the dark leaves, come to the very water's edge. There, in winter, lives 


M A N D AI 1 1 N — M A l; N () I . I A — G R I : I : N COVE SPRINGS. 

Mrs. Harriet Bccchcr Stowc, besieged by luindreds of visitors, \\bo do not seem 
to understand tbat she is not on exhibition. Mandarin was once the scene of a 
dreadful Indian massacre; a generation ago, the Seminoles fell upon it and mas- 
sacred all within its limits. 

"Hibernia," on its island, with a lox'ely promenade under the .sheltering 
branches of live oaks, and " Magnolia," where a large establishment was erected 

On t'le Road to St. AugtistinCj Florida. 

especially for invalids many years ago, and is now very successfully conducted, 
are on the right, as you ascend, and are much frequented by Northerners. Oak 
forests border the water, and pines and palmettoes form a striking background. 
Throughout the winter months these health-resorts have the climate of Indian 
summer, and at Green Cove Spring, just above Magnolia, where there are 
sulphur waters of peculiar healing virtues in rheumatism and dyspepsia, a goodly 
company usually assembles with the first advent of " the season." Crossing the 
river to Picolata, a wharf with a prospective town, the steamer follows the eastern 
bank until it arrives at Tocoi, whence an extempore horse-railway conducts the 
traveler to St. Augustine. The traveler was formerly condemned to journey 
from Picolata to St. Augustine, over a terrible road, through cypress clumps and 
masses of briars, and palmettoes, in a species of volante, in w^iich his bones 
were so racked that he rarely recovered before it was time to make the journey 

It is expected that a railroad will one day penetrate the country between 
Jacksonville and St. Augustine, and following the coast as far as Cape Sable, be 



conducted over trestles to Key West, thus placing Cuba within three or four 
hours' sail. The road could be built for a comparatively small sum, as it would 
run through an absolutely level country. 

But that road would rob good old St. Augustine of its romance. I object to 
it on that account; and so, I am sure, will many hundred others. What! must 
we lose the pleasure of arriving at nightfall at the Sebastian river, and hearing 
the cheery horn sounded as we dash through the quaint streets, and alight at the 
hostelry ? A bas the railroad ! rather let us have the diligence, the mules with 
tinkling silver bells, the broad - hatted, velvet -jacketed drivers of primitive 

Useless — vain — these protestations ; as I stand on the wharf, at Tocoi, I 
can see that modernism is already here. A horse- car ! Ye guardians of the 
venerable ! 

Out through a seemingly interminable forest leads a straight road, bordered 
here by pines, and there by the palmettoes which spring in dense beds from the 
rolling ground. There is a little group of houses al Tocoi, and along the river 
bank, under the shade of the beautiful moss-hung oaks, several Northerners have 
established charming homes. A few miles back from the river, on either side, are 
good sugar-lands, and the negroes about the station are munching stalks of cane. 
An old mill near by is half-buried under a wilderness of tropical vegetation. At 
intervals in the forest, palm-trees shoot up their slender, graceful trunks. 

A Street in St Augustine, Florida. [Page 388.] 

It is eighteen miles from Tocoi to St. Augustine. The journey is made 
partly on iron, partly on wooden rails ; but is comfortable, and affords one an 
excellent chance to see a veritable Florida back-countr}-. There is not a house 



along the route; hardly a sign of life. Sometimes the kH of tiic wheels startles 
an alligator who has been napping on the track; and once, the conductor says, 
they found two little brown bears asleep in the run directly in their jjath. It is 
night ere you approach the suburbs of the old city. The vegetation takes on a 
o-hostly aspect ; the black swamp canal over which the vehicle passes sends up a 
fetid odor of decay; the palm thickets under the moonlight in the distance set 
one to tropical imaginings. Arrived at the Sebastian river, an arm of the sea 
flowing in among long stretches of salt-marsh clad in a kind of yellowish grass, 
and inhabited by innumerable wild fowl that make the air ring with their cries, 
the horse-car stops, you are transferred to an omnibus, brown-skinned Minor- 
cans and French touters for hotels surround you ; the horn sounds ta-ra ! ta-ra- 
ta-ra ! and you rattle through the streets to the hotel. 

St. Augustine. Hurida — "An ancient gateway. 

There is no noise in the town ; evening has brought with it profound quiet. 
As for me, alighting at the " Magnolia," in a street as narrow as any in Valencia 
or Genoa, I stroll, after supper, into the dark and mysterious lanes. This moon- 
less night is kindly ; it lends the proper weirdness — the charm which should be 
thrown about St. Augustine. Walking in the middle of the street, which is over- 
hung by wide projecting balconies, I detect a murmur, as of far-ofif music — a soft 
and gentle monotone. Now that I hear it clearly, surely it is the rhythm of the 
sea, and the warm breeze which blew across my face had a smell of the ocean. 
There is plainly the sound of water lapping on the shore. Ah! here is a half- 
ruined cottage built of coquina, with a splendid palmetto overshadowing its 
remains, and some strange vines which I cannot identify in the darkness, 
creeping about the decaying windows ! A little farther on, an open plain — and 
here an ancient gateway, with a fragment of a high wall adjoining it; to the 


right — looming up through the shadows at a Httle distance — the massive walls 
and mauresque towers of an antique fortress. Yonder is the beach, and, as I 
draw near to it, I see two or three stalwart figures pulling in a boat. 

I turn again, and wander through other streets, Hypolita, Bay, Treasury 
Lane. Some of the little alleys are barely eight feet wide. Where is the bravo 
with his dagger ? Not here. St. Augustine is most peaceable of towns. No 
moss-grown corner of Europe, asleep these two hundred years, shall boast a 
steadier population than this — our oldest town in the United States. 

Here is a sea-wall wide enough to walk upon. Against it the waves are 
gently beating. The fort yonder seems now but a great blot on the sky. I come 
to the Plaza, a little park in the city's midst. A few fishermen, a soldier or two, 
and some visitors are lazily reclining on the benches opposite the venerable 
Cathedral. A tall white monument stands in the park's centre. I light a match, 
and climb the pedestal. 

Plaza de la Constitucion. 

Monument to one of the short-lived forms of government in Spain. Nothing 
but a plain shaft. 

Now every one has left the square. There are no lights, no voices. So I go 
home to bed. 

Morning, in mid-December, brings warmth and sunlight; noon, slumbrous 
heat. Still roaming in the quiet streets, I see few signs of activity. • Hammers 
are ringing on the walls of the new wooden hotel in which Northern tourists are 
to be lodged, a splendid coquina wall, which might have stood for another 
century, having been torn down to make room for this ephemeral box. The old 
arch, which marked the site of the Treasury, is crumbling, and will soon vanish. 
The quondam residence of the Spanish Governors, on the west side of the Plaza, 
has been rebuilt and altered until there is nothing antique in its appearance. It 
is now a prosaic court-house and post-office, and around its doors daily gather 
swarms of Northern tourists awaiting their mail. The balconies of the huge St. 
Augustine Hotel are crowded at evening when the band of the crack artillery 
regiment plays. 



ST. Augustine, wliich a proud Spanish monarch once called the " Siem- 
pre ficl Ciudad," is situated on the eastern coast of Florida. The town is 
built on a small peninsula between the St. Sebastian river and the harbor. 
Menendez drew the attention of the Spanish nation to the spot by landing there 
in 1565 ; by his joyous return to the little garrison there, and his reception by 
the priesthood, who glorified him for the zeal he had displayed, after the massacre 
of the Huguenots at Fort Caroline ; and by the subsequent bloody deeds among 
the dunes of Anastasia Island, at Matanzas Inlet. Menendez, finding that 
Ribault's Huguenots had been wrecked near this inlet, went to them with seem- 
ing protestations of friendship. He heard their pitiable story ; how they had lost 
four galleons in the mighty storm, and that other vessels w^ere missing; how they 
desired boats with which to traverse the inlet, and to pass through St. Augustine 
on their way to a fort "which they had twenty leagues from there." Menendez 
■was too thorough a scoundrel and too little of a gentleman to declare open war 
against them, but he announced boldly that he had massacred the garrison and 
destroyed the fort. Then they desired that he should enable them to return to 
France, since "the kings of Spain and of France were brothers and friends." 
But Menendez told them that, as they were of the new sect, he held them for 
enemies, and if they w'ould throw themselves upon his mercy he would do zvith 
them zvhat God shoitld of His merry direct. Thus, having shifted the responsi- 
bility of his crime from himself to his Maker, he enticed the unfortunate French- 
men into his clutches, and, after tying their hands, his soldiers massacred every 
one of them. As the two hundred and eight prisoners came, one by one, into a 
lonely place among the sand-hills, they were poignarded and stricken down by 
the swords of their treacherous and murderous assailants. It is not strange that 
the Floridian should to this day speak of the "bloody Matanzas river." 

But this was not all. On the very next day after the massacre, the Spaniards, 
who had returned to St. Augustine, learned that large numbers of Frenchmen 
had been seen " at the same part of the river as the others had been." This was 
Ribault himself, with the remains of his shipwrecked company. The Adelantado, 
Menendez the infamous, at once pushed forward to meet them. A conference 
was had ; the Frenchmen were shown the dead bodies of their comrades, and 
grimly directed to surrender to the clemency of the noble hidalgos. Terrified 
and shocked, starving and without any means of escape, Ribault surrendered 
himself and 150 of the men-at-arms with him, as well as the royal standards. 



into the hands of Mcncndcz. Two hundred of Ivibault's men, well knowing the 
fate in store for them, had braved the horrors of the wilderness during the night, 
preferring them to Spanish "clemency." Ribault and the others who surren- 
dered, save sixteen persons, were ruthlessly slaughtered. 

In the world's histor}^ there is recorded no more infamous massacre than this. 
The two hundred who fled the night before the final massacre built a fort at some 
distance from St. Augustine, but were 
finally attacked by the Spaniards, and 
great numbers were made prisoners. 
Menendez did not kill them, perhaps 
fearingr that a fourth slaucfhter would 

tardy fury of the 
but pressed them 

The Remains of a Citadel at Matanzas Inlet 

built of logs, and it is said to have 

arouse even the 
King of France, 
into his service. 

That was three hundred years ago. 
The remains of a citadel are still visible 
at Matanzas Inlet, and a Government 
revenue officer keeps as regular watch 
there as ever did Menendez, but not 
exactly with the same intent. The 
first fort built at St. Augustine is de- 
scribed by the ancient chroniclers as 
been the council -house of the Indian village, on which site the town is 
founded. The ruins at Matanzas arc undoubtedly more ancient than any 
building in St. Augustine. 

Menendez went to his reward in 1574, and for two centuries thereafter the 
records of the settlement were eventful. Sir Francis Drake attacked and burned 
it in 1586; the buccaneers now and then landed and plundered the helpless 
inhabitants, and Indians massacred the missionaries. At the end of the seven- 
teenth century the Spanish Government saw that the sea threatened to wash away 
the town, and for half a century thereafter the inhabitants toiled at the erection 
of a massive sea-wall, the remains of which may now be seen in the middle of 
Bay street, and which has been superseded by the fine breakwater built by the 
United States Government between 1837 and 1843. 

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, the South Carolinians came in 
hostile array against St. Augustine by land and sea. The siege by land was suc- 
cessful, the attack by sea was a fiasco, and the invasion failed after having cost 
South Carolina ;^6,ooo, for which she issued promises to pay. A quarter of a 
century later the Carolinians raided again upon the old town, but went no farther 
than the gates. In 1740 Governor Oglethorpe, of Georgia, led a movement of 
Georgians, Carolinians and English against it ; but retired, after an unsuccessful 
siege and bombardment. Shortly thereafter, the garrison of St. Augustine 
retaliated, and attacked the English settlements in Georgia with a formidable 
force; it was profitless. Back came Oglethorpe in 1743, carrying fire and death 
to the very walls of the old fort. 



At the time of Oglethorpe's siege, St. Augustine was stoutly walled about 
and intrenched, with salient angles and redoubts. On the principal fort, fifty 
pieces of brass cannon were mounted, and growled defiance across a moat two 
score feet wide to any enemy prowling beneath the walls. There were twenty- 

view of Fort Marion, Sl Augusdne, Florida. [Page 394.] 

five hundred inhabitants — of which nearly one-half were Spanish soldiers. Out- 
posts were maintained on the St. John's river, and scouts quickly brought 
intelligence of any hostile movement. 

England obtained the province of Florida by treaty in 1763, and when the 
red-coats came to St. Augustine, the Spanish inhabitants nearly all left. Many 
of them or their descendants, however, returned when the English had decided to 
get rid of the troublesome colony, and recession to Spain occurred in 1783, in 
exchange for the Bahama islands. In 1821, the standard of Spain, which had 
been raised by Menendez and his men, 256 years before, over St. Augustine, 
was hauled down, and the stars and stripes were raised in its place. 

Since then, the old town has had its share of vicissitudes. It changed hands 
three times during our civil war. 

A century ago, St. Augustine was, in general plan, very much as it is now. 
The "Governor's official residence," the present court-house, has lost the beau- 
tiful garden which surrounded it ; a Franciscan convent stood on the site of 
the artillery barracks of to-day. An Indian village was still standing upon the 
little peninsula in those days, and to the town's fortifications had been added 
a ditch, along whose sides were planted thick rows of the Spanish bayonet, 
forming an almost impenetrable chevaiix de /rise." The outer lines of defense 
can still be traced. The gardens surrounding the solidly built two-story flat- 
roofed houses were still filled with fruit-trees, as the Spaniards had left them; 
the fig, pomegranate, lemon, lime, orange, guava and the bergamot, flourished 
then as now ; and over the lattices great vines trailed, bending under loads of 
luscious grapes. 

r H i: T R A N S F O R M A T I O N OF THE H I S T O K I C CITY. 


The romance of the place is now gradually departing. The merry proces- 
sions of the carnival, with mask, violin and guitar, are no longer kept up with 
the old taste ; the rotund figure of the padre , the delicate form of the Spanish 
lady, clad in mantilla and basquina, and the tall, erect, brilliantly uniformed cav- 
aliers, are gone; the "posy dance," with its arbors and garlands, is forgotten; 
and the romantic suburbs are undergoing a complete transformation. 

The wealth of Northern cities is erecting fine pleasure houses, surrounded 
with noble orchards and gardens, and in a few years there will be as many villas 
as at Newport within a half hour's drive from the centre of St. Augustine. A 
brilliant society already gathers there every winter, and departs reluctantly when 
the long summer heats begin. Although the majority of those who visit the 
venerable. town are not in search of health so much as of an agreeable climate, 
and an escape from the annoyances of winter, still, the preservation of health 
has been found so certain in the genial air of Florida, that hundreds of families 
have determined to make it henceforth their winter home. 

Those invalids who cannot endure a sea-air would do well to avoid St. 
Augustine, and seek some of the interior towns ; but the overworked and 
careworn, the sufferers from nervous disease, can find speedy relief in the per- 
meating influence of the genial sunshine, which continues almost uninter- 

Light-house on Anastasia Island, near Sl Augustine, Florida. 

ruptedly throughout the winter months. In December, the days are ordinarily 
bright and sunny, a salt sea-wind blowing across the peninsula ; from ten until 
four o'clock, one can sit out of doors, bathed in floods of delicious light During 
my stay at St. Augustine, in December, there were two days in which I gave 
myself completely up to the mere pleasure of existence. I seemed incapable 



of any effort ; the stranp^e fascination of the antiquated and remote fortress- 
town was upon me. The sunshine penetrated to every corner of my room. 
There was no broad ami unpleasant glare — no impertinent staring on the sun's 
part, but a gladsome light which I have never seen elsewhere. I walked out 
at noonday ; the town seemed transfigured : the shadows thereon from the 
balconies, from the date-trees, from the thickets of roses, were mystical ; I sat 
down on the grass-grown rampart near old Fort Marion, and (forgetting the 
gnats) let the gentle sea-breeze caress my temples, and memories of by-gone 
centuries take complete possession of me. At that moment, the rest of the 
world seemed as remote as Paradise, vague as Ilium, foreign as the Zendavesta. 

Falling, at last, to contemplation of the ancient fort, I could not repress my 
indignation as I remembered that when there was talk of building a railroad to 
St. Augustine, some enterprising company wished to buy and demolish the quaint 

View of the Entrance to Fort Marion, St. Augustine, Florida. 

landmark, that they might establish a railway terminus there. Such vandalism 
would be a disgrace to us. The fort should be tenderly clung to. The 
more moss-grown it becomes, the more we should love it. It is a grand monu- 
ment. For more than a century hundreds of men toiled in the quarries on 
Anastasia Island and along the bay shore, wresting out the material now in the 
massive walls. 

Coquina, of which the fort is built, is a kind of concretion of shell-fragments, 
often very beautiful. This formation extends along the Floridian coast for more 
than a hundred miles. It crumbles when exposed for a very long time to the 
air, but rarely falls to pieces. Coquina resists a bombardment better than ordi- 
nary stone, as it is elastic and will bend before the fiery messengers; so that it is 
quite possible that Fort Marion, decaying and aged though it seem, would stand 
the broadsides of a foreign man-of-war better than the forts which have been 
built but a few years. 

This fort is built after Vauban's principles, in the form of a trapezium, with 
walls twenty-one feet high and enormously thick, and with bastions at each 



corner, originally named after St. Paul, St. Pierre, etc. The Castle of San Marco 
was its former title. On it the Appalachcan Indians labored for sixty years. 
The garrison was also compelled to contribute to the work, and convicts were 
brought from far Mexico to labor in the quarries. Thousands of hands must 
have been employed for half a century in transporting the giant blocks across 
the bay, and raising them to position in the thick walls. As one traverses the 
draw-bridge, coming down the town, he sees over the main entrance the arms 
of Spain, with the globe and cross above them, and an inscription showing that 
in 1756 Field-Marshal Don Alonzo Fernando Herrera, then "Governor and Cap- 
tain of the City of San Augustin de la Florida," finished the castle, " Don Fer- 
nando Sixth being then King of Spain." 

"San .Marco," now Fort Marion, has never been taken by a besieging enemy. 
It is a noble fortification, requiring one hundred cannon and a thousand men as 
complement and garrison ; and it has been so strengthened by the water-battery 
added to it since the United States came into possession that it is a very formi- 
dable defense. The old sergeant in charge exhibits the interior to visitors. You 
penetrate the cell which was suddenly discovered some years ago by a break in 
a wall, and which the Spaniards had con- 
cealed before ceding the fort to our Gov- 
ernment. In this cell were found cages in 
which men had been confined. Torch in 
hand, the sergeant leads you through the 
chapel in the casemate, to the cell whence 
a Seminole chief once made his escape 
during the war with his countrymen, and 
mounts with you to the breezy promenade 
overlooking the water -battery, flanked at 
either end by the little Moorish sentry- 
boxes whence the men-at-arms were wont 
to watch the forest and the sea for the 
approach of the enemies who came so fre- 
quently. The moss-grown and discolored 
walls, the worn coquina slits, the gloomy 
corridors, the mysterious recesses, the 
grand old moat, with the gigantic walls 
above it, are too perfect reminders of the 
past to be allowed to perish. The vandal 
who shall destroy Fort Marion wi