New Orleans as it is

NEW ORLEANS AS IT IS. — ITS SETTLEMENT. — ITS LOCATION. — ITS HISTORY. — FIRST IMPULSE TO COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISE. — THE PURCHASE OF LOUISIANA. — STEAM NAVIGATION. — CHARACTER OF THE FIRST SETTLERS. — THE FLAT-BOATMEN. — CITY GOVERNMENT AND POLICE. — COMMON SCHOOLS. — THE LOCATION OF THE CITY. — SOURCES OF DISEASE. — WATER IN NEW ORLEANS. — POPULATION. — THE CREOLES. — SPLENDID BUILDINGS. — THE OLD SPANISH CATHEDRAL. — PUBLIC GROUNDS. — THE PLACE D’ARMES. — DWELLING HOUSES. — “GOING SOUTH TO SEEK A FORTUNE.” — THE CHURCHES. — THE SABBATH. — SOCIAL RELATIONS. — ILLEGITIMATE FAMILIES. — CONCUBINAGE. — KEPT MISTRESSES. — EXTENT OF LICENTIOUSNESS. — REGULAR PROSTITUTES. — PROSTITUTION OF WIVES. — FASHIONABLE LADIES. — AMALGAMATION. — A MAN SELLING HIS OWN CHILDREN. — SLAVE GIRLS HIRED AS BED COMPANIONS. — QUADROON GIRLS BOUGHT FOR BED COMPANIONS. — DISREGARD OF THE SABBATH. — DRINKING HOUSES. — “DANGEROUS AND SUSPICIOUS.” — VAGRANTS. — DEPOSITORIES OF THE DEAD. — SLAVERY. — APOLOGIES FOR SLAVERY. — FARE OF SLAVES ON PLANTATIONS. — WHIPPING OF SLAVES. — A WOMAN WHIPPED TO DEATH. — THE “BREAK-DOWN WHIPPINGS.” — WOMAN WHIPPING ON THE PLANTATIONS. — RESTRICTIONS UPON SLAVES. — CHAIN-GANGS OF WOMEN. — SLAVES COMPELLED TO FIND WORK. — CHIVALROUS LADIES. — SLAVE MARKET. — DEPRAVITY OF SLAVE-HOLDERS. — REFLECTIONS.

The history of New Orleans, if fully written out from its earliest day, in connection with the first adventures and discovery of the Mississippi Valley, would be one possessing more interest to the people of this country, than that of almost any other portion of the American Continent. To do this, in any degree to satisfy the inquiring mind, is not the purpose of the author of these few pages. The writer only designs to give a brief portrait of the breathing mass, that fills up the great emporium of the Valley of the Mississippi. To say that all live, in the common understanding of the term, who spend their time there, would be to give a false coloring to a large portion of the picture, which the reader may be assured is true in all its lineaments. It is important, however, to the reader, to know something of the early history of this section of the country, as well as a general description of the city, and some things connected with it, to be able to duly appreciate and understand, why a life in New Orleans differs so widely from any other in the whole range of civilization. And while standing on the Levee, and looking over that great busy mart, where the products and treasures of that vast region of the Mississippi Valley and its tributaries, are constantly being poured out, it would seem that a word could not be said of New Orleans, without requiring a full history of its discovery, beginning of settlement, adventures of individuals in other portions of the Valley, along the banks of this great artery of the breathing earth, which is constantly pouring its floods into the bosom of the ocean. As a brief sketch is demanded of the early times of this range of our country, I shall only notice a few things.

One among the most singular facts in the history of discoveries, is that this mighty flood of many waters, was first met with more than one thousand miles from its mouth. The first discoverer was a Spaniard, by the name of De Soto. He started from the Island of Cuba, in the year 1538, with six hundred men, landed on the coast of Florida, passed to the North, through Georgia, Tennessee and Kentucky, and came to the river, at the place now known as Chickasaw Bluffs.

In passing from 1538, down to 1717, many adventurers from the old countries, as well as from the colonies, came, and scarcely more than roused the panther and alligator from their lairs, and passed on, leaving them quietly to return to their repose, and there to remain, until another should come after them in search of the “fountain of immortal youth,” which was the object sought after by those who first traversed this region of our country, and whom the Indians had now made to believe there existed such a fountain, in which, if a man should bathe, he would, even if old, return back to the sunny days of youth, his life be without end and clothed in immortal youth. But this glorious fountain was never realized, yet on they came, for many years, company after company; and most of them found a resting place, unburied, in the midst of the swamps and desolation of a wild and unbroken wilderness.

The result of these several companies, in search of the fountain of “living waters,” was a settlement under the patronage of the French government, after the purchase from Spain, one at Natchez, and one at Balize, on Lake Pontchartrain; and finally, in the year 1718, at the city of New Orleans, this Babel of all Babels, this Sodom of all Sodoms, was commenced. And here let me ask the reader to pause and contemplate the scenes which have been enacted in this modern Golgotha. Turn back to the pages of its history, although never written; yet to read it, let the imagination have its widest range, excite it as livid as the lightning flash amid the lowering thunder cloud; and then call up the fullest measure of human woe, of moral degradation, of human suffering, and contemplate the blackest rage of human passion, and all the dark and damning deeds that the fiends of the infernal regions could perpetrate, and you would have before you a faint moonlight picture of the early days of New Orleans. But now, a change has come over the drama of life, yet not in the spirit of her dreams. For the same boiling caldron of human passion is still there, swallowing up its victims, and as in olden times, leaving not a shred or a remnant, to tell from whence they came or whither they have gone.

This was New Orleans a century ago, and this is New Orleans to-day. And notwithstanding a change is in her outward forms, by throwing aside the bowie knife, the dirk and pistol, yet the weapons by which destruction is now accomplished, are none the less sure, none the less fatal. For unlike the knife and pistol, they never maim, but strike strong and deep into the very life blood of the victim.

The City of New Orleans is on the west bank of the river, about ninety miles from its entrance into the Gulf of Mexico.—The City of Lafayette has a distinct city charter, yet the increase of New Orleans has been so rapid, for a few years past, that it has grown up, so that by buildings they are united, and now appear like one vast city, occupying about seven miles in length, and about one mile in width, along the bank of the river, which, at this point, takes a wide circle and passes to the north-east. The two cities occupy the bend of the river, in form like the new moon, and hence has been given it the name of the Crescent City. The valley above and below is very level and low, and were it not for the Levee, as it is called, would be inundated, by the overflowing of the river, for nearly half of the year. The Levee is an embankment of earth, thrown up from six to eight feet high, and sufficiently broad to make an excellent road. This embankment, commences about forty miles below the city, and on the east side of the river extends as far up as Baton Rouge, a distance of one hundred and forty miles. On the west side it has been necessary to build it, with but very little interruption, up to the line of the State of Arkansas, a distance of five hundred and fifty miles. Were it not for this embankment, not a rod of this vast extent of country could be cultivated. Yet it is now one of the most fertile and productive portions of the South, and on which is grown almost the entire crop of Sugar in Louisiana, as well as large quantity of Cotton.

From the commencement of the city of New Orleans up to the time of the “Seven Years War,” which is now always spoken of as “The Old French War,” between England and France, and in which many of our fathers participated, the province of Louisiana, being then in possession of the French, passed through many trying scenes; and several times barely escaped annihilation, not only by sickness and starvation, but by well concerted plans of massacre by the Indians who inhabited that range of country. At the termination of the “Seven Years War,” came up a new era, upon which soon followed those mighty developements, which to us now in the distance appear like the work of enchantment. The cession by France of all her rights and lands in North America to England, except the province of Louisiana, was stipulated by the deputies of the two governments, and the boundary line between their possessions, in the wilds of America, was determined should run along the middle of the Mississippi river from the gulf of Mexico, up as far as Ibberville, thence along the centre of that river, through Lakes Maurepas and Ponchartrain. This treaty was made in 1763, twelve years before the war of the Revolution. Immediately following the treaty, France ceded the entire province of Louisiana to Spain. This act of cession, however, for certain considerations, existing with the government of France, was not made known until about two years after the date of the treaty. When, the decree was first published, making, by a mere dash of the pen, Frenchmen into Spaniards, it produced the utmost consternation among the inhabitants of the province. The act of being thus secretly passed into Spanish hands, with new lords and masters, and without being consulted, or even a knowledge of the fact imparted until long after the consummation of the matter, was too revolting to those who had abandoned home and friends, and braved the difficulties and dangers of the savage wilds of the Mississippi valley, and who were as true and loyal Frenchmen as ever paid court to Crown or King. Public meetings were called, and they resolved as one man, not to submit to the outrage which the new order of things would impose upon them. And they further determined, that if they were to be thus dealt with, and finally deserted by the Mother Country, they would endeavor, with the limited means and power which they possessed, to commence business on their own capital; and thus brave the displeasure of both Spain and France. This determination they at once prepared fully to sustain.

On the arrival of the Spanish Governor, Don Ulloa, with a strong force, in 1766, they met him at the point of the bayonet, and succeeded in driving him off, forcing him to leave the country and return home and lay down his commission. At this unexpected defeat and defiance of authority, the King of Spain was highly enraged. In consequence, however, of other troubles then on hand, which were such as to engage his whole attention, no further attempt was made to take possession of the province until 1769, when the King succeeded in finding a man, with all the requisite qualifications to undertake the work of royal vengeance, which had been three years waiting to glut itself with the blood of Frenchmen. The fit instrument to do this work, was a man by the name of Don O’Reilly, a renegade Irishman, who had “left his country for his country’s good,” to whom he gave the appointment of Governor. To accomplish a purpose by any means within the scope of human ingenuity, a fitter tool, or a more arch fiend, could not be found within the compass of royal favor. He came to the citizens of the province with fair promises of government patronage and favor, pledging them at the same time, that he would, in a great degree, respect the laws and regulations which they had enacted, and retain in office a due share of the citizens. By these assurances, impressed with so much apparent honesty, he succeeded in prevailing upon the authorities and the people to lay aside their arms, and meet him on the terms he proposed, and acknowledge him as Governor. For some time he continued to respect his pledges, and yet, while doing this, he was secretly fortifying himself, and arranging his plans, by placing his own chosen and subservient tools where he could at once call them out to do his bidding, when the time should come to throw off the mask of hypocrisy. He then assumed the power of the Dictator, made laws to suit his own purpose, trampled under foot and disregarded written contracts, and finally, to consummate his fiendish acts of treachery, and to gratify the vengeance of his Spanish Master, and in defiance of the most solemn pledges, he caused five of the principal men of the city to be arrested, and, without trial, to be shot. Five others he sent to the dreary dungeons of the “Moro Castle,” at Havanna, on the Island of Cuba. These acts of outrage and vengeance, together with violations of every assurance which he had given to seduce the too credulous people, soon brought down upon him the execration and abhorrence of the whole colony. The final result was, he soon worked out his own downfall. Following the dictates of his own inclinations, and supposing, at the same time, he was courting royal favor, the King was forced to recall him, and cast him off disgraced. Under his successor, a Spanish nobleman by the name of Unzoga, who remained with the colony a short time, the province enjoyed a short time of comparative peace and prosperity.

This, however, was soon broken up by the war between England and Spain, which was declared in 1779. This occasion enabled the Governor, Don Galvez, to display his martial prowess, by invading Florida, then in possession of the English. Without meeting much to contend with, he took Baton Rouge, and Fort Charlotte, which stood near where now stands the city of Mobile. From thence he marched down upon Pensacola, which, after a long and determined resistance, finally yielded to the Spanish arms. By this decisive blow the laws and power of Spain were established in Florida, and the thorough introduction of the Spanish colonial system. This, however, was too severe a blow for the proud and independent English and French to bear quietly, without showing some signs of the galling nature of the yoke, which was thus being formed upon them. Yet the impositions succeeded so well for a time, that an attempt was made in 1785, to establish an office or branch of the Grand Inquisition in the city of New Orleans.—Against this assumption and scourge of despotism, the spirit of the hitherto subservient Frenchmen took fire. They arrayed themselves at once in the most determined hostility against it, and so daring and fearless were they in their opposition, that it was crushed without leading to a collision between the people and the troops. The agent who had the authority to arrange the matter was taken from his bed in the night, and put on shipboard, and sent back to Spain. Thus, ere it saw the light, was strangled one of the most hideous monsters that was ever permitted to prey upon the lives, property, and liberty of an unoffending people. And yet, this was to come into a city, and among a population who had no sympathy with the power that ruled them, nor any motive for obedience except fear and self-preservation; and what is most astonishing in this event, is, that such a system as the Spanish Inquisition should be attempted on this continent, in the midst of the light and spirit of that age, ten years after the announcement to the world of the Declaration of Independence.

Finally, after a few minor vicissitudes, through which the colony passed, up to 1792, Baron Corondelet appeared as Governor. Two years following his appointment, the treaty of St. Lorenzo was entered into between the United States and Spain, by which was granted free navigation to every kind of water craft, belonging to the United States, through the lower waters of the Mississippi. The effect of this treaty at once aroused a spirit of enterprise, and gave an impetus to trade and speculation, which fixed forever the prosperity and preeminence of the crescent city, as the great emporium of the western world. The Spanish Governor, however, not deeming the stipulations of the treaty of sufficient account for his consideration, continued to exercise his authority, much to the detriment of those who had been induced to embark in business, as permitted by the stipulations of the treaty. This interference on the part of the governor, did not much accord with the enterprising spirit of that class of traders who had embarked their all upon the waters of the Mississippi. This class of men differed widely from those with whom the governor had hitherto been accustomed to meet. They were schooled under different teachers than the servile minions of Spain, or the too credulous and confiding Frenchmen, who had long been submissive to his will. But the “live yankee,” and such too, as constituted the boatmen of the Mississippi, had never before crossed his path, and how to meet them, was a task which he was not able to accomplish. The traders from the beginning assumed a position to maintain their rights, and this begat in the governor an impression that they were insolent in the extreme, in daring to oppose his authority. The consequence was, the restrictions upon the traders were more stringent than ever; until finally, by an armed force under Andrew Elliot, the territory was taken possession of, and the refractory governor compelled to acknowledge the stipulations of the treaty and respect the right of the traders. From this time until 1803, the territory was quite prosperous, when Spain re-transferred all her rights and interest to France.

Immediately following this treaty between France and Spain, on the 30th of April of the same year, France sold the whole territory to the United States, for fifteen millions of dollars. Gen. Wilkinson was ordered to take possession of the new purchase, which he did, amid the rejoicings of the warm hearted Frenchman, whose love of liberty had increased as the galling yoke of his Spanish master bore down upon his neck. To him the day was one that he had long desired, the day for knocking off his chains and throwing them in the face of the insolent Spaniard.—From this hour, the riches of the Mississippi Valley were unlocked. The march of improvement, and the swelling tide of business, poured out her treasures into every clime, and at once determined that this valley was the grand centre to which the extremes and every part of the circle of this vast continent must yield their homage.

Nine years after this event was an important and memorable era in the scenes of the Mississippi Valley; and never will it be effaced from the memory of the thousands and tens of thousands who lined the banks of the river to witness the crowning efforts of genius, and the almost omnipotent power of man over matter. It was at this time, the first steam boat was taken into the bosom of the father of waters. Although it was but yesterday that the astonished multitude stood amazed, yet they are still there, and are now witnessing thousands of these floating palaces flying to and fro, bearing upon their huge frames the productions of this vast region of our country. In the vision of the master genius of our land, the immortal JEFFERSON, the reality which now lays before us, was vividly drawn up, a short time before he consummated the purchase of Louisiana, and in the language of another it is thus presented:

“The purchase of Louisiana is considered the greatest political event, next to the Revolution, commemorated in American history. The circumstance ought not to be overlooked that this mighty conquest, exceeding in territory the greatest monarchy in Europe, was achieved, without the guilt or calamities of blood, from a military autocrat, whose ceaseless ambition was an universality of empire, and who, in the untamable pursuit of his purpose, went on demolishing nations at a blow, and partitioning the earth at pleasure, until vanquished by the consolidated power of Europe. The mind is lost in the magnificence of the achievement, and the vastness of its consequences; its glories can only be commemorated in the unceasing homage of the unborn millions who will participate of its blessings. ‘There is no country,’ says a writer, ‘like the valley of the Mississippi on the face of the globe. Follow the mighty amphitheatre of rocks that nature has heaped around it. Trace the ten thousand rivers that unite their waters in the mighty Mississippi; count the happy millions that already crowd and animate their banks, loading their channels with a mighty produce. Then see the whole, bound by the hand of nature in claims which God alone can sever, to a perpetual union at one little connecting point; and by that point fastening itself by every tie of interest, consanguinity, and feeling, to the remotest promontory on our Atlantic coast. A few short years have done all this; and yet ages are now before us: ages in which myriads are destined to multiply throughout its wide spread territory, extending the greatness and the happiness of our country from sea to sea. What would we have been without the acquisition of Louisiana? what were we before it? God and nature fixed the unalterable decree, that the nation which held New Orleans should govern the whole of that vast region. France, Spain, and Great Britain, had bent their envious eyes upon it. And their intrigues, if matured, would eventually have torn from us that vast Paradise which reposes upon the western waters.’”

I have thus given a brief sketch of a few of the leading incidents which tended to bring into existence and develope the resources of this important section of our country. What makes it of so much interest, at this time, is, that its birth and youth, and transformation, as by magic, has been before the eyes of the present generation. Nevertheless, they seem to pass it by as being among the most common incidents in the life-time of every man. It is like the idle tale of a school boy. And here it is proper to call the reader to one important consideration, from which will readily be recognized the causes which have produced this state of things, so peculiar in New Orleans, and which gives a character to this city unlike any other in the world. These causes commenced with the beginning of the settlement, and increased by the frequent changes which so often occurred, in the government and possession of the territory of Louisiana. First came the French adventurer in search of the “Fountain of Immortal Youth.” Then came the bigoted, iron rule of the dark frowning Spaniard; and, mixed up with these, from all parts of the world, were fugitives from justice, disaffected politicians, and desperate adventurers of all descriptions. At length appeared also the shrewd and ever calculating Yankee, with a force and power to leave the unmistaken impress of his guessing nature upon every thing that he laid his hands upon. And finally the poor African, stolen from his native home, was brought to mingle with the heterogeneous mass, and impress his nature and give a shade of character upon the length and breadth, the height and depth of every thing that has had existence in New Orleans. This crushed and down-trodden being came in with the commencement of the cultivation of sugar cane, in 1751. African slaves were sent from the Island of St. Domingo, by the Jesuits, to their brethren in New Orleans, to superintend the making of sugar. From their first introduction, the females have been to all intents and purposes, the wives of both the French and Spanish, and are now the same with the Americans who have taken up their abode here. And in this there has been no respect to color, from the dark sooty black, down to the soft and mellow tinge of the beautiful quadroon. Thus, it will be freely acknowledged, the African has had no small share in impressing the peculiarities of his nature upon the living picture of a life in New Orleans. From this heterogeneous mass, which in the beginning was thrown suddenly and promiscuously together, has originated a state of society differing widely from any other part of the civilized world. And now, as at the beginning, the Spaniard is there, with his low dark brow, concealing deep under its arch the small keen black eye, with snake-like language, which tells of treachery, deceit, and midnight assassination. Here too figures the brilliant, the proud and restless Frenchman, with all the life and animation peculiar to his nature, with his heart constantly running off at his tongue’s end. And now, at every turn, you meet the cool, calculating, determined emigrant from the Northern States, who moves on, with an eye single to the “almighty dollar.” To these may be added, within a few years past, the warm-hearted son of the Emerald Isle, together with the cold and ever measured tread of the plodding Dutchman. And to complete the picture, in this mixed mass of living beings the neat and tidy Quadroon is seen, civil, courteous, unassuming in all his manners, yet with a down cast look, indicative of a deep realizing sense of the damning curse that rests upon him in consequence of the yellow tinge of his brow.

And now to be considered alone, and distinct, that nondescript of all human demonstrations, are the “Flat Boatmen,” of the Mississippi River. Of this class there are annually visiting the city of New Orleans not less than ten thousand, and yet when there, that is their home. They are, indeed, an amphibious race of beings, living on land or water, and always enjoying the comforts of a hotel wherever night overtakes them. They belong, however, to the Mississippi, and are, to the length and breadth of that mighty river, what the wild Arab is to the deserts of Arabia. Daring and fearless, they never regard danger, as more than the common incidents of every day life. In their composition, they present the striking features and peculiarities of the disciplined sailor, the fearless whaleman, and the bold and strong backwoodsman, added to all the free and social qualities of the well educated New Englander. And while combining, and being made up of such traits of character, they present a class distinct, original, eccentric, and unique; yet, with all the better attributes of the human soul cultivated to a high degree, presenting a noble and generous nature, and as warm a heart as ever beat in the human breast. This class of “half horse and half alligator,” as they claim to be, have borne such a conspicuous part in the great Valley of the Mississippi, that a better view of their character cannot be given than the following narrative, taken from the lips of the celebrated James Girty, a short time before his death.

For one to look upon the visage of such a man as Girty, there would at once arise a suspicion of damning deeds, as dark and dread as his own sun-burnt brow; yet in him was always found an integrity of purpose, from which many in the higher walks of life, could learn a lesson, and profit by it. In his time, thousands of dollars’ worth of property and money were confided to his care, and accounted for to the last farthing. Nor was he ever known to break an engagement, or betray a trust.

And now the reader has before him all that New Orleans is to-day, and from this mass of elements is constituted its society; and certainly, short-sighted indeed must be any one who cannot in some decree anticipate the leading features which would be presented from such a mingling of the impulses of human passion, and form some opinion of the perfect Babel of human tongues, as well as human actions, that is found there.

There is not a city in the United States so well regulated, and so thorough in enforcing laws and regulations, as are the authorities of the city of New Orleans. And in no place is a person, in purse and property, more safe, at all times of day and night, and in every part of the city. And yet, in this respect, it is far different from what is understood by the people of the Northern States. The impression exists with almost every one, that to walk the streets at night, or to be caught in the suburbs of the city, the bowie knife, the dirk, and the pistol, will be the first thing to flash in his face; and to escape the gang of assassins is impossible. But far from this are the facts. Even females can walk the streets after dark without an attendant, and be perfectly secure from insult or molestation.

The city is divided into three municipalities, each being under a distinct and separate government. Hence, no doubt, a strife arises, in enacting and enforcing wholesome and salutary laws, at least so far as security for person and property are concerned. Certainly there are fewer murders, robberies, and burglaries, according to the population, than in any other place in the civilized world of its size. Another very important and very salutary regulation is, the disposition they make of vagrants. A man appearing ragged, dissipated, and degraded, and laying about the streets, without any visible means of support, either by labor or money, is arrested and taken before the Recorder, and unless he can make some show for himself, he is sentenced to the work house for sixty or ninety days, and in all this transaction you find no low unprincipled pettifogger, as is the case in New York, volunteer to defend him. Such an interference by a lawyer, in New Orleans, would forever disgrace him. After the vagrant has served his time of sentence out, you will see him make his way out of the city, cursing the very stones on which he treads, not even venturing to look behind him, fearing that he may be again arrested before he can escape. The effect of this stringent regulation is to keep the city entirely clear of this class of day and night peculators. It is also a note of warning to that horde of plunderers and robbers who operate on a larger scale; for they are sure there will be no favor shown them by a pettifogging construction of the laws, nor flaws found in the indictment, by which he can escape against the evidence of his guilt. And in more than this, you will find New Orleans differing from other cities. You cannot find here a coat of mail thrown around the culprit by the influence of money, through which the law cannot penetrate. Neither can you find in the halls of justice, a back-door avenue by which you can reach the jury box, or the prosecuting attorney, or the Court. Hence the vicious are cautious how they lay their hands on their neighbor’s property, and woe to him who invades his neighbor’s rights, so as to fall within the meshes of the law. These regulations and features in the government of the city are the only wholesome rules of which it can boast, and present the only redeeming trait in the whole frame-work of its laws, its manners or customs, except the system of common schools.

The system of common schools is deserving of more than a passing remark; yet what is due, in commendation of such a gem in the midst of such a mass of corruption, cannot be allowed within the compass of the design of these pages. Suffice, however, to say, that it is one of the most perfect models for common school education ever instituted, and it is to be hoped that other, and older States, may profit by the example. The citizens of Louisiana feel a pride in this great work, and well may they. In particular the citizens of New Orleans should be proud of this monument of their wisdom and benificence. Some of the municipal arrangements of this system, are as follows. Large and commodious buildings are erected, to which all the children of a certain district are sent. Each school is divided into four classes, according to the ability and knowledge of the child. When they have passed the several departments, and been subjected to the rigid and thorough examinations which are necessary in passing from one to the other, and have gone through and received a diploma, they are qualified to enter the junior class of any college in the United States. And here the road is open to all, the poor as well as the rich, the system forbidding any distinction, and to all classes free of expense for every thing which the pupils require for instruction, in books, maps, charts, and other materials, all of which are furnished by the State.

To give the reader a correct idea of the city of New Orleans, and the great curse to which it will ever be exposed, it is important to know its peculiar location. The range of country along the banks of the Mississippi, is called the coast, commencing about forty miles below and about sixty miles from what is called the “Balize.” This is a term signifying a sea mark, or pole elevated as a guide for seamen, and this was done by those who first made the discovery of the mouth of the Mississippi. No other term is now used, but “Balize,” when going out of the river. The coast is a narrow strip of low, flat land, from one to two miles wide, and in rear of which, running nearly parallel with the river, is deep, dismal swamp land, filled with legions of the most deadly, poisonous snakes, and herds of alligators. This belt of land is perfectly level, until it meets a ridge at “Baton Rouge,” on the east side of the river, about one hundred and twenty-five miles above the city. The soil is a deep black sandy alluvial, of great fertility, and seems not to deteriorate by cultivation. This whole coast along the river is now occupied by the sugar planter, and for nearly eight months in the year the eye of the traveler sees nothing before him but the waving sugar cane, presenting one unbroken livid landscape of the most beautiful green ever beheld upon the lap of nature.

The city is located on the west bank of the river, and the wide and graceful sweep which the river takes at this point, in crescent shape, crowds it far back into the belt of land, leaving but a narrow space between the river and the swamp. This swamp is several miles wide, skirting the rear of the city the whole length, and into this mud hole, the water and filth (what little passes off) are taken. This boiling fountain of death is one of the most dismal, low and horrid places, on which the light of the sun ever shone. And yet there it lies under the influence of a tropical heat, belching up its poison and malaria, from whence it is constantly being swept through the city, feeding the living mass of human beings who stand there, ready, as it were, to take down the dregs of the seven vials of wrath, that is incessantly being poured out upon them. Another evil is, the city, by the bend of the river, is thrown so near the swamp that the range of land on which it stands, is exceedingly low. Consequently, during a rain or in a wet season, it is almost entirely under water, and always after a heavy shower, or several days of damp wet weather. The state of the atmosphere and heat are such that in a few hours the water in the gutters and in the yards and vacant lots, becomes covered with a yellow greenish scum, in which there appears to be a fermentation, which you can distinctly hear, as you pass along the side-walk.

In connection of the swamp, is being thrown off, unceasingly, from the whole surface, in and around the city, one dense sheet of thick malaria. And to thicken this up, and add to its qualities, the whole city, from one extreme to the other, is filled with the most filthy masses of stench and corruption, that were ever suffered to remain above ground in a community claiming to be decent or civilized. In proof of this, go to that part of the city where you would certainly expect neatness and order, and look for some place to locate, to escape the steam and odor from piles of filth, and you will find on one side or the other of almost every dwelling, a horse stable, a mule yard, a negro pen, or piles of offals, from some lane or alley, which have been there from time immemorial. Again, you may look for a desirable dwelling, but none can you find, unless on one side or the other is a miserable shanty or hovel, filled with the most degraded human beings, either black or white. In further proof of what New Orleans is, in this respect, the following incident will give some idea of what is found there. In the summer of 1847, during the rage of the yellow fever, when hundreds were dying daily, the citizens and authorities, from some cause which I believe has never yet been made public, and perhaps only known to but few, got an impression, that filth and corruption might possibly beget disease. Consequently they appointed a committee of examination to search the city, to ascertain if any thing could be found that would have such a tendency. In this arrangement, a very worthy and efficient gentleman, Mr. N., was assigned to Gravior, one of the principal streets in the second municipality. While on his mission he went into the chamber of a house, but a few rods in rear of the St. Charles Hotel, occupied by an Irish family, and while conversing with the lady of the house, his attention was attracted to another room by a noise like the grunting of swine, yet for the moment, he concluded it could not possibly be up chamber. The report, however, soon came again, and was so convincing that he arose and opened the door, and to his astonishment met an old sow nursing five pigs, which she had reared in that room, until they were almost large enough to become gentlemen hogs. And this is life in New Orleans. In connection with all this, every mouthful of food a person gets on the table is a mass of poison, disease and death. I refer now to meats, of every description. The animals of all kinds, to supply the city, are brought down from the upper States, bordering on the Ohio and Mississippi, in Steam Boats, and are, generally, from ten to fifteen days on the passage. They are forced into a change in food, water and other circumstances, during the passage. They eat but very little, and when they arrive in the city, are in a state of starvation; and in this condition are killed, and taken into the markets. Now this meat is as improper for the table as if the animal had died of ship fever; for the whole body is in a state of feverish inflammation, produced by the change of diet and the starving condition in which the animal is when killed. Consequently, the meat must produce a deleterious influence upon the health of those who eat it.

To present clearly, the condition that meats are in, when taken into the markets, the following facts are given. The Steamer Dove, in her trip to New Orleans, in Oct. 1848, was completely covered on her deck with coops full of chickens, as thick as could be crowded in, amounting to several thousand. The passage was long and tedious. For two days after being taken on board, the poultry began to sicken and die. The number dying daily increased, and for two or three days, before we arrived in the city, a large number died. On arriving, those living were immediately sold, and the next day, many of them were on the tables of the Hotels and boarding houses. Now if these chickens were wholesome, and proper food to be eaten, and would promote “health and long LIFE,” then may we look for health in consuming the pent up damps and vapors of the dungeon or an emigrant ship. It is also in almost a putrid condition that butter and preserved meats are received, and they both have generally a rancid and forbidding taste and smell. Vegetables may be classed with other things, for they are usually produced by a forced growth; consequently, cannot become healthy and vigorous plants.

And now comes the water, and while I am writing, before me stands a tumbler of as pure water as was ever thrown from the bosom of the earth; hence those who have been in New Orleans, can fully realize that I can well appreciate the contrast. To dig a well and procure water in New Orleans, is a very easy matter; for you would have it, for more than two thirds of the time, even with the surface of the ground, and never, in the dryest time, more than a foot below. To drink freely of this water, no person would probably live but a short time. To furnish a supply of water for dwellings, every house has a cistern, from ten to fifteen feet high, standing above ground, for rain water. This water is used for drinking, cooking, and washing. Standing as this cistern does, exposed to the heat of the sun, the water becomes exceedingly warm, and always has a brackish, insipid taste. Another supply of water, to those who prefer it, is from the river. It is taken through the main part of the city in pipes, and this is the most disgusting and loathsome beverage, that a person ever put to his lips. To have some proper conception of this water, for drink, call to mind the filth from cities, towns, and villages, for an extent of two thousand miles, together with the dregs that are constantly being poured off from ten thousand boats of every class, from the floating palace of the magnificent “Autocrat,” down to the shabby coal carriers of the Monongahela, which are constantly floating upon its surface. And then look at the dirty gurgling mass, as it rolls along, and constantly boiling up from the bottom: dip up a tumbler full, each of which is thick with what you may call “mud,” if you please, and each glass-full will have at least, when left to settle, a tea spoon full of this “delicious” mud; and I am sure, it being so well mixed, that no other “mud” can be found as rich as this. Yet those who live here, along the range of the Mississippi, drink it, and say they “like it.” But one thing is as certain as any cause and effect, that a more frightful source of disease does not exist in the Mississippi Valley, than the use of the river water for drink. As evidence of this, is the change it produces with almost every person when he commences taking it. The effect is a very powerful alterative influence upon the system, terminating as thorough as the most drastic cathartic. This derangement, in a majority of cases, follows with great obstinacy for weeks, and often months, baffling all remedies. The effect is a great irritation of the mucous coat of the stomach and alimentary canal, resulting in extreme prostration of the physical powers, and a general derangement of the whole system; thus rendering it an easy prey to the various diseases peculiar to a hot southern climate. Now, all these causes, and all the circumstances by which the inhabitants of New Orleans are surrounded, together with the excessive dissipation, in every manner prompted by human passion, make that city, as it truly is, “one great charnel house.”—Although there are periods when New Orleans is called “very healthy;” yet that time is, when the Yellow “Jack,” the Cholera, or “Danza,” is not sweeping the inhabitants off by scores every day. At all other times, while the mortality is three times as great as any other city of its size, with corresponding sickness, yet you will then hear, that it is “exceedingly healthy.” But notwithstanding all these reports, New Orleans never can be healthy. As well could health be enjoyed while living upon the adder’s breath, or breathing the odor from the deadly Upas tree.

The population of New Orleans is about one hundred thousand, and this includes that portion who reside there during the fall and winter months. The number who may be regarded as residents, according to the proper understanding of what constitutes a residence, will probably not exceed sixty or seventy thousand. There is doubtless, every winter, a transient population of thirty or forty thousand, who spend from six to eight months in the city, and as soon as the warm season commences, take their departure in swarms, as regular as wild geese do from the North on the first appearance of a flake of snow. But on the return of cold weather they are not all of them found to return; for, as a general thing, a large majority get enough of New Orleans in one season. And separate from the Creole population, or that portion who are descendants of the first settlers, the French and Spanish, I do not think there is one in twenty of the residents of New Orleans, men who are now in business, who design to spend their days in the City. They are now, however, engaged in a routine of business that fixes them there for a time; yet they are firmly resolved, at no distant day, to seek another home. But before that time will be determined upon, by many who are now moving in the busy scenes of that fated City, they will be taken to a house and a resting place that will be more certain and unchanging than the bed of that mighty river which will forever pour its immense flood into the bosom of the Ocean. To the man of middle life, when he begins to turn the “descending scale,” and the warm current of his youthful blood begins to cool, and run sluggish through the channels of life, and before the bright visions of his fancy begin to flit the dark clouds of the uncertain future, to such a man will New Orleans present no charms, and the longer he remains there, will its varied and blighting realities appear more and more desolating. The Creole population know no other home, and consequently have nothing before them from which to make a comparison that will enable them to appreciate a higher and better state of existence. Hence they will always be found there. But to the adventurer, he who has come in from the Northern States, and whose early life is filled up with the impressions of the pure and wholesome associations of a well educated, refined and moral people, this City presents nothing that can call up the pleasing and delightful scenes of his early days, but the contrast is calculated to beget an insatiable hankering for his early home.

The Creole population of New Orleans are a peculiar and singular people. And here it is proper to explain who are recognized as Creoles, for I find, that almost without exception, every person of the North understands the term, Creole, to mean that portion of the inhabitants who are, more or less, shaded with African blood; and in short, the impression is, that when you speak of them you are speaking of those called Quadroons. Yet they believe that in this class are included those of a much darker shade than the yellow persons or mulattoes who come strictly within the class of quarter-blooded Africans or Quadroons. The term Creole simply means native born. The Creoles are principally descendants of the French and Spanish settlers. They are exceedingly genteel, civil and courteous, and in all the embellishments that adorn the gentleman and lady, they excel, and in all their articles of dress they exhibit a degree of taste and perfection in arrangement, that makes them easily recognized in the common walks of life as well as in the promiscuous assembly. And yet they are strongly attached to the footsteps and ways of their fathers, and are exceedingly cautious in preserving their identity, and consequently do not desire to become familiar with the manners and custom of those “Goths and Vandals,” who have come down upon them from the North. This portion of the population of New Orleans reside principally in the first municipality, which is now the center of the City. The second municipality, or American part, as it is termed, is above, and the third is below. In the third, the inhabitants are a mixed mass, of all nations, kindreds, people, and tongues. The Creoles being thus hemmed in, are gradually yielding and giving way to the superior energy and force of character and adaptation to business of those who surround them, and have given tone and vigor to every thing of a business nature in New Orleans. Hence, the Creole reads in the future his destiny, and is compelled to reflect that what he now looks upon as Vandalism, will ere long crush every thing of his name and character in the dust. This foreshadowing of his doom makes him jealous of his more busy neighbors, and oftentimes, in view of the change that is going on like magic before him, he becomes exceedingly captious, and thus forbids himself to become social with his Yankee neighbors. But the immutable laws of population which will ever make the weak give room for the strong, force of character, influence and power of change in associations, the ingenuity and adaptation to business of those who surround them, and who already begin to mark them as their prey, will take every thing from their hands, and leave them in the shades of oblivion, only to be found by the cold and speechless marble that marks their final resting place.

Of costly and splendid buildings in New Orleans, there are but very few worthy of note. The St. Charles Hotel, however, presents the proudest monument of that city, and of buildings of that character it stands unrivalled, and without a comparison in the world. This magnificent establishment, in size and beauty, in its external appearance, and architectural designs, impresses upon the beholder that sublimity and grandeur, which perfection in the science of architecture is ever calculated to produce. The most casual observer, when unconsciously brought to view this speaking monument, feels an awe stealing over him, which at once charms him into the stillness of a statue; and he stands a silent gazer upon that tongueless yet speaking mass before him. There are other buildings in our country that are costly and magnificent in structure; yet in comparison to the St. Charles Hotel they fail in that speaking eloquence which it is the power of perfection in the science of architecture to display.

This immense structure was commenced in the spring of 1835 by an incorporated company, and was completed in three years.—The entire cost of the building was between five and six hundred thousand dollars. The front, on St. Charles Street, as viewed in passing down, presents a projecting portico of six Corinthian columns, standing on a granite basement, and four similar columns, on each side of the portico, ranging with the front wall of the centre part of the building. Behind these four columns is an open space, one hundred and forty feet long, covered with large granite slabs, thus affording a wide and extensive range for promenading. The entrance to the bar-room is on the front of the portico, in the basement, on each side of which is a range of stores in front. It occupies the centre of the main building, and is octangular, or eight square, and is seventy feet in diameter and twenty feet high. To support the floor above, is a range of heavy Ionic columns, in a circle round the room. In rear of this is a bathing establishment, consisting of fourteen rooms, perfectly arranged, and adapted to warm or cold baths. In the basement also are the wine and liquor cellars, store house, and other domestic apartments, necessary for such an immense establishment. The saloon, or reception room, for gentlemen, in which also is the office, is directly over the bar-room, and of equal size. In the centre of this room commences a winding stair-case, that leads through the upper stories to the dome. As it ascends up, in each story, around the stair way, is a space or gallery, that leads into a suite of bed rooms. The gentlemen’s dining room is one hundred and twenty feet long, fifty wide, and twenty-two feet high, beautifully finished in the Corinthian order of architecture. The floor above is supported by two rows of columns, arranged so as to give space for four tables, through the whole length of the rooms. The ladies’ dining room is in another part of the building, entirely separate, and is fifty two feet long and thirty six wide. The angle in front, and to the right of the portico, is the ladies drawing room, and is forty feet long and thirty two wide. The gentlemen’s sitting room is also in front, on the opposite side of the building, to the left of the portico. It is thirty eight feet square. There are, in the whole establishment, three hundred and fifty-two rooms, besides nine private parlors, with bedrooms adjoining. These rooms, throughout the whole building, are furnished with a taste and elegance, unsurpassed by any other Hotel in this or any other country. To complete and perfect this magnificent structure, a dome, in diameter and heighth, surmounts the centre of the building, that appears so perfectly in harmony with all the other parts, that to add to or diminish it would seem to destroy every line of beauty, which is now so richly displayed.—And yet to finish and fill up the conceptions of the imagination, on the top of this dome, away in the dizzy height, is a beautiful Corinthian turret, that keeps up, in its proportion, the image of perfection, that looks out from every part of this unrivalled specimen of architecture. The dome is fifty-six feet in diameter, and around this, at a distance of eleven feet, is a range of columns that support the projecting cap of the dome, thus making a beautiful gallery for promenade, from whence the eye can range at a glance over the whole city, and trace in the far distance the windings of the rushing tide of many waters that lays before it.

The influence that this vast and magnificent structure has upon every one, is such that it places every other building in New Orleans so far in the back ground, that they will not receive even a passing notice. The St. Louis Hotel, however, is a building of much elegance and taste, yet presenting nothing remarkable to attract the attention of the passer by, except its immense size and the space it occupies. It fills the entire block, between Royal and Chartre Street, fronting on St. Louis, three hundred and ten feet, and on Royal and Chartre, in width, one hundred and twenty.—The original design of this immense building, was for a City Exchange, a Bank and Stores, a Hotel, and a large dancing room, in imitation of the Saloons of Paris. For a Hotel, the arrangements for such are, perhaps, the most complete and perfect of any other in the world; yet it has failed in every particular in being sustained, and this is in consequence of its location, being in the first municipality, or the French part of the city. Hence it can never become the resort of business men, or him who comes in for pasttime or pleasure. The determination of every thing in New Orleans is in another direction, and nothing hereafter will succeed unless it comes within the range of the American part of the City,—the second municipality. It is of no use to try in any other part, for “Capt. Scott” is there, and they may as well “give in” and “come down,” first as last, for they will surely be killed, if they don’t. There are no other buildings of note, or any that will rank with the common average in cities generally.

Perhaps, however, as an exception to this, may be considered the “Old Spanish Cathedral,” or Church of St. Louis. It stands in the centre of the “Crescent” and also of the City, overlooking the “Place d’Armes” or Parade Square. This unique and singular structure forcibly impresses the stranger by its ancient and venerable appearance, and is calculated to excite in the beholder, suspicion, that within its cold and gloomy walls have been perpetrated, dark and damning deeds, on which will dawn no light, until that time shall come when the crimes which have been committed within pent up walls, and in the dark haunts of vice, and under the fall of midnight, shall be spread out upon the long scroll that eternity has been rolling up. But the suspicion, that wrong or an impious act has been done within these consecrated doors, or within view of those sacred altars, would be sacrilege indeed, although it has stood here for more than half a century, and is now bearing upon its floor the footprints of three generations who have daily assembled here, and bowed in humble reverence and adoration before the image of their Savior. Yet could it reveal and unfold the records of the “confessional,” what tales of bleeding penitence—what strange and incomprehensible impulses of the human heart, would here be developed. But all these things are locked in the silent chambers of death, and rest with that venerable old man, Pere Antonio de Sedella, who was Curate of the parish for nearly fifty years. His image will live in the memory of succeeding generations, for the story of his virtues and the overflowings of his warm and generous heart will be told by the happy recipients of his favors, and impressed upon the records of every age. He was gathered to the home of his fathers in 1837, in the fullness of days, at the age of ninety years. His remains were deposited within these sacred walls, and lie buried at the foot of the altar where for half a century he daily knelt, presenting the case of some wayward and wandering child, who had poured into his ear, confessing the deeds and errors of the carnal heart, beseeching him, in the spirit of true penitence, to ask for mercy at the throne of grace.

Of public grounds, or places for promenade, there are none in New Orleans, and yet in no place in this country could beautiful walks and promenade grounds be made so enchanting as in that city. The climate and soil are such that every thing necessary to make such places desirable, and even charming, would come up, as by magic, if a beginning was only made. But as yet there has scarcely been a “picayune” devoted for any thing of this purpose. There are, however, inclosures of considerable extent, which no doubt were designed for this purpose. One of these is the “Place d’Armes,” inclosing about six acres of ground by a strong and well constructed iron fence. Although this place has long been noted, yet it is without ornament of any description, and has no attractions at any time, except on every Sabbath day, when it is filled with the military of the city, who assemble here, under their respective officers, for inspection and review. This is also the place of reception for distinguished men, on all occasions of public demonstration in their behalf. And it was here, within this inclosure, four days after the “battle of New Orleans,” that General Jackson assembled the heroes of the 8th of January, and bade them farewell. And yet below, and in full view of this place, which on that memorable day, to all human conception, was a doomed city, to be given up to rapine and robbery, lay the “Plains of Chalmetta,” the “Battle ground,” the Waterloo of America, that field of glory and of arms, and not a stone, or a memento, meets the eye of the passer by, to tell where our brave soldiers, with their hearts on their bayonets, fought against such fearful odds, and the deeds of noble daring of those fathers and brothers, who there faced the cannon’s mouth, to save their homes, their wives and daughters, their mothers and sisters, from the grasp of an infuriated and brutal soldiery. But here, within the “Place d’Armes,” and in the very place, is fixed a stone, about eighteen inches square, where stood that “iron nerved old man,” and like an “infant wept,” when he received the warm grasp, and bade each soldier adieu, as the long line in single file passed before him. The stone is fixed deep in the ground, and is a “silent and impressive lecturer” on the records of the past; yet it is here simply as a memento of the footprints of the savior of his country. And here too, again and again, has the soldier, the statesman, and the civilian, met the warm embrace, and received the gratitude of the grey-haired old man, the mother, the son and daughter, presenting a monument more splendid and magnificent and enduring, than the lofty structure of granite or marble.

Of this somewhat interesting place, I cannot present a more graphic description, than the following, from a New Orleans paper.

What a queer neighborhood is that in the immediate vicinity of the Place d’Armes, in the First Municipality! A stranger can scarce realize that he is in an American city, so foreign an air pervades the vicinage. There one beholds the time-worn buildings of the old Spanish architects of the last century, crumbling and mouldering slowly away. In a few short years they will be numbered among the things which were, and in their places will soon spring up smart rows of brand new brick buildings, rejoicing in all the freshness of newly moulded clay and coatings of bright fresh paint, looking as if age could never creep on them and sap their foundations, loosen the mortar, rot the heavy beams and joists, cause great chinks and cracks to open in the walls and the roof, letting the rain and wind in to assist in the work of ruin and decay. Even the old Place d’Armes itself has a queer, ancient, foreign look. The tall and aged sycamores, with the brown bark peeled off in great blotches from their trunks, leaving white-bald places; the dead and crackling branches, the dying leaves, changed by the approach of winter, but still clinging pertinaciously to the parent stock as if loth to fall and perish, seem to moan and mourn as the wind whistles through them, at the desolation which has crept into that old square. Where are its trim well-kept walks, where its neat benches, on which many a lover has uttered his devotion to his mistress and received from her lips his judgment? Where those gay promenaders, full of life and hope, uttering soft nothings and prattling in foreign tongues of la Belle France, or of deeds in old Spain! Where those children, rosy cheeked and cherry lipped, lightly bounding over the smooth grass and indulging in the pure and innocent sports of childhood, known only to that happy state of existence? Generations have slipped away while those old trees have been growing there—death has gathered them in by scores, and the cemeteries still tell the time when they retired to their quiet homes from the cares of the world forever. Bright wreaths of gay flowers sometimes may be seen upon the final receptacles of some of those old frequenters; evergreens growing around their graves, wetted by the tears of those in whose breasts the memory of the departed dwells ever. Where is the little fountain that once spouted so gaily in the centre of the square? where those funny, finny little denizens of the basin, in whose sportiveness the children took so much delight? Fish or fountain exist no longer; the little dolphins who never wagged their little tails, and who kept continually blowing little jets of water from their mouths—the plaster naiads, who watched over all, with a perpetual smile upon their lips, are gone also. The basin is filled up, and the next generation can only learn that there was once a fountain there! There is one old relic left yet—the black old gun which has bellowed forth from its great round throat a command to all blacks to get home as soon as possible, night after night, for many a long year. There stands the stout and hale old fellow yet, with iron constitution, affected but slightly by the hand of Time, and looking like some weather-beaten old veteran of the wars, who has been banged about a good deal, stood fire in frequent campaigns, but is still as rough and tough as the best youngster in the service.

Then there is the old cathedral, with its old towers and turrets frowning—all old places are by special poetical license invested with the power of frowning—over all, flanked on each side by the Court House and Municipal Hall, built in the olden time, and though furbished up, and whitewashed, and painted, still bearing the date of their origin upon them as plainly as the black looking ancient Cathedral. Those bells, too, in what time they first tolled a knell or rang for the quiet rest of some departed soul we cannot now tell. For many a year they have been cracked, but still are made to perform their office morning, noon and night, in obedience to the will of the founder of the Cathedral. No ghosts would infest those belfries or their neighborhood. In front stand a string of crazy old hacks and cabs, jingling jarvies and barouches, built long and long ago; the horses have a dejected air, and exhibit many points of a character which would indicate that they subsisted, like chameleons, upon very thin air, or dragged on a miserable existence in hopes of better days, living upon the force of imagination merely. You will be told, though, that these nags, “rum ’uns to look at though they be,” are “reg’lar good ’uns to go.” The drivers are mostly negroes who indulge in bad French and drink root beer at the stand of the fat old black woman at the corner. On one side of the square we have drinking houses, cafes and restaurants—scarce any thing else. The corner is the resort of all the inhabitants of the region, a well kept place, where persons can indulge in dominoes, strong cafe and all sorts of drinks from orange flower water and eau sucre up to Cogniac. Every afternoon it is thronged, and a babel like confusion prevails from the mixture of languages, French, Spanish, German, Italian and English. In the same row of buildings is the well known Cafe de Quatre Saisons, and Victor’s restaurant, one of the crack places of resort in the city, where bon vivants and epicures have a decided propensity to congregate. On the opposite side is the queerest combination of trades. Here is a depot of the fruits of Pomona, with stacks of apples, piles of oranges, strings of bananas, baskets of pecans, walnuts and shell-barks; little monuments of guava jelly and pyramids of cocoa nuts, piled up like cannon balls. Presiding over all is a stout, olive colored Spaniard, in a striped guernsey shirt and fur cap—he is the deputy of the goddess, handles her luscious offerings and pockets the proceeds. Side by side with this is a hardware store, with long-legged spiders, and griddles, and sprawling gridirons; podgy, apopleptic looking iron pots and wide-mouthed copper kettles; casks of spike, coils of wire, shelves of knives and forks; packages of locks and bolts and bars and hooks, mute commentators upon the dishonesty of mankind. Then comes another fruit depot, another and another, all looking exactly alike, arranged the same and all attended by individuals of the same pattern. Hardware, perishable fruits and spirits are the commodities exclusively dealt in in this row. How the second story is occupied no one can say. The balcony railings are usually hung with damp and dingy looking clothes, sheets, towels, stockings, gowns, pants, and vests. Broken flower pots with starvling rose bushes and blighted geraniums, dragging out a miserable existence, may occasionally be seen, and pale, attenuated females with uncombed hair and drabbled dresses, deluging them with soap suds. An old man sometimes smokes his short clay pipe moodily, silent and alone, leaning over the balcony and listlessly watching the passers-by; and now and then a child will clamber upon the railings and terrify the beholder by demonstrations of descending head foremost to the pavement below. The inhabitants by day are few, but at night the place swarms—it is alive. Fiddles, flutes, tamborines, grinding organs are going it at a great rate; busy feet are toeing and heeling it, but whereaway it is hard to tell. The sounds issue through the chinks of the window shutters, creep out beneath the doors, curl out of the chimney tops with the smoke; a strange jumble of queer sounds, half expressed notes, abridged cachinations, bits of German glees, replete with consonants melodiously uttered, pervades the atmosphere with the indistinctness of a dream, till the Cathedral clock sonorously peals forth the hour of 12. Then the noise which has been gradually growing less and less distinct, suddenly subsides entirely—the lights fade away and the quiet of the night is disturbed no more.

The dwelling houses in New Orleans, at least seven-tenths of them, are the most miserable apologies for the comfort and convenience of a family that can be imagined, and there are but very few modern built, and well arranged, and completed, with a view to make a house desirable for a residence. The reason for this, doubtless, is the excessively high price for building lots; and the enormous expense of building obliges those who build, to erect as cheap buildings as possible. A house designed for renting, also, is built as cheap as can be done, for such an one will command nearly as much rent as the most splendid mansion, if it has equally as much room and as favorable location. Hence you will find, in every part of the city, in the best locations, the miserable old Spanish house, only one story high, renting from eight to twelve hundred dollars a year, and the building is not worth twenty dollars. And yet these buildings will remain where they are until swept away, either by fire or water. The excessively high price of rents for buildings, for any purpose, together with the enormous expense of living, will very much retard the rapid improvement, and permanent advancement of New Orleans.

The impression prevails very generally, in almost every section of this country, that wealth can be accumulated with great ease, and quite rapidly here, and this has caused a great excess of business men, and much competition. Consequently profits are small, and but very few make annually more than enough to meet expenses, and many very soon become satisfied with the experiment of “going South” to make a fortune. You will not, therefore, find but very few “old merchants,” in New Orleans. And with this view also, “to seek their fortunes,” will you find hundreds of young men, in the fall of the year, wending their way South, to look up a way of business for themselves, and yet not one in every fifty obtain employment, or meet with any thing to do. I have seen many such come into New Orleans, with letters of introduction and recommendation of the highest character, and failing to get business, and too proud to return home, and being on expense, and without any income, would soon spend all their means in hand, and finally, from necessity as it were, would drop into the floods and whirlpools of dissipation, and be taken as straitway down to ruin and destruction, as if they were forced by the irresistible laws of gravitation. I have also watched the bright hopes and cheerful countenance of many a young man when he first looked in upon the wild and animating scenes which are here presented. He feels at once a new impulse stealing over him, and the bright visions of his fancy, which have led him on, he imagines will be more than realized, for the substance and the life before him he believes to be real, and in which he will soon participate. But little does he dream that all he witnesses is as false and groundless as the baseless fabric of his own wild fancy. I have thus followed him, a few short months, moving among the busy throng that fill up these streets, and finally night after night have left him in the low roofless hovel, feeding at the table with the most miserable and degraded herd of Slaves in human form. This is no sketch of scenes drawn out in vivid colors of fancy, for it is stern, living reality, and language contains no power to embellish them, for they are before you, in the history of thousands, who have been buried here, and gone down to a premature grave. And here let me say to the young man of the north, if you should have a desire, or an idea come up, of “going South,” check it at once,—crush the thought, ere it brings before you treasures of a golden harvest, which you may imagine is in store for you there; for let me assure you that the day has long since passed when fortunes can be easily gathered at the “South,” or in New Orleans; and no other place in this widespread country can be found, where so few realize the anticipations which urge them on to engage in the pursuits and business of the day and when the hour of trial comes, and blasted hopes gather thick around, so many sink away into the vortex of irretrievable ruin, and if ever known again it is amid the scenes of vice and dissipation, herding with vagabonds and gamblers. And this is the fate of hundreds of the business men of New Orleans. And this too is no fancy sketch, but the reality of every day life. And yet these men are worthy of a better fate.

Of the churches in this city, not including those of the Roman order, and the influence of professing christians, there cannot be much said in their favor; yet there has been something done by them, and some influence of a favorable tendency has been quietly and slowly working, which in some degree checks the wild rage of human passion, or at least has driven it back from the public view, and to a great extent from the light of day. And the reason, doubtless, why more has not been done, and why a more salutary influence is not produced by religious efforts, is that the christian standard is as much below the Bible requirements of christian life, as the moral standard is degraded below that point which justly forbids almost every man a character for morality. Hence, when the christian standard falls far below, as it does here, the ordinary estimation of a moral life, it cannot be expected that the influence of professing christians of such a grade, can be very forcible or of much avail. And I apprehend that nothing will ever be done here to crush those monster evils that stalk through these streets at midday, and to indulge and participate in which is not unbecoming a gentleman, a good citizen, a moral man, and a christian, unless it is by raising up a proper moral standard, by which men shall be tested who are to be the recipients of patronage and public favor. This, however, would look like a hard beginning, for some one would be called upon “to throw the first stone.” And I fear echo would answer, Where is he?

There are a number of Churches in the City, and many of them of recent organization. The Episcopalians have five, Presbyterians three, Methodists two, Baptists one, Universalists one. The Clergymen who officiate in them are generally men of distinguished talent and ability, and the morning service, on the Sabbath, is usually well attended. In the afternoon the audience is very small, consisting only of a small portion even of the members. No Church could be well sustained in New Orleans, with a second rate preacher. They must be men of popular talent, of forcible and attractive eloquence, and withal not very close preachers. Hence the influence of preaching and of Christian teaching is superficial indeed. The principal cause, and doubtless, the great obstacle in the christian and moral standard of New Orleans, is the total disregard and desecration of the Sabbath. Not only is this done by professed christians, but by those who have been differently educated and early impressed with the benefits and wholesome and salutary influence produced by a due observance of this day.

The Sabbath appears to be regarded by almost every one as a holiday, and its return is as much desired for a day of pleasure, as if no other day was appropriate for such purposes. Military Parades are never on any other day but the Sabbath. Horse racing, when a large purse is at stake on the most famous races, are on the Sabbath. Theatres and circuses have the most attractive bills and greatest display on Sabbath evening. Bull fights also are never on any other day, and in fact, exhibitions of every kind are usually on the Sabbath. And yet, in this enlightened age and against the good sense and judgment of every other section of this country, and in full view of the evils that flow from these examples, the authorities grant permits and licenses for these things, and men in the highest official stations in the State and city favor them by their presence on the Sabbath. And also, against these outrages and other evils that are begotten by them, the pulpit is as silent as if they were in accordance with the rituals of the church. And more than this, will you be astonished to see, not only good men, but professing christians, mingling in the crowded throng that keep up these rounds of moral pollution and dissipation. But in all these evils the authorities are chargeable with more censure than all others, for they have the power to prevent and suppress entirely these blighting curses that pervade this city. But compared with other causes that seek no hiding place, amidst the whirlwind and rage of human passion that lays desolate every refined and noble impulse of the human heart, the desecration of the Sabbath is but as the breath of the summer breeze, compared to the tornado’s blast.

The social relations of the great mass of the citizens of New Orleans are peculiar, and doubtless unlike any other place within the wide range of civilization. And the principles by which the intercourse in society is regulated, are strange indeed; especially to those who have been educated and taught to believe there is some meaning and worth in virtue and chastity, and that licentiousness, fornication, and adultery are crimes, if not in the sight of heaven, at least should be so considered in a moral point of view, as well as against the sacredness of the domestic circle and peace of society. But here these evils, together with the outrages of prostitution, appear to be regarded as matters that come as much within the routine of the social relations, and the open and unrestricted indulgence of the citizens, as a general thing, as any of the common civilities of life. Hence, to be openly known in the practice of these vices—as a libertine, or living in adultery, or as an excessively licentious man, does not degrade him, or make him the less favored or less respectable. In fact, there appears to be no such condition known here as adultery, fornication, or prostitution; and I doubt very much whether they have any such words in their Dictionary. To the man who is notoriously of this description it appears to give a force of character, and a degree of consequence, that commands respect and deference, that makes him the beau ideal of a fine fellow and a gentleman. The light in which these things are regarded here, and the present practice in respect to them, at an earlier day than this, would have surprised any one, but considering the character of the early settlers, it would perhaps be remarkable indeed if this had not been exhibited; for those who first came into New Orleans were mere adventurers, without attachments to home or place, and many of them without social relations or even kindred. Consequently they were creatures of circumstance, and while mingling in the varied scenes of the Mississippi valley, it would be strange indeed if they should not have met with females of the same class, and to whom they would become attached as companions. To presume otherwise would be to conclude against the experience of every age, as well as against the natural impulses of the human heart.

There are hundreds of men and women now living together, who have around them large families, and yet were never married. Connections of this kind exist in New Orleans to a much greater extent than is generally known. As evidence on this point, a very worthy and intelligent lady living in the Third Municipality informed me that a Methodist minister accidentally left at her house his book of record for marriages, which the law now requires every clergyman to keep. In looking it through, she found that he had married within the last two years thirty-three of her neighbors, heads of families, and many of them having children that were married, who had been living together as man and wife, and as such every one regarded them. They had been privately married to enable the children to inherit their property, as a law in Louisiana has been enacted with a view to meet these very cases.

There is also another condition in the social relations, that but very few individuals could reconcile themselves to sustain. It is in supporting and having two families. There are a large number of business men from the North—captains and officers of Steam Boats, and captains of French, English, and American vessels—who spend more than half the time in this city, and many of them have families at home; yet here they have their mistresses and children, and are as much at home with them as with their lawful wives. The condition and connection of these persons together are perfectly understood, as is also the fact, with most of them, that they have another family. Yet these things are not often made a matter of others’ business, and consequently they are all “very respectable.” This class of females, to some extent, live as confidingly honest, and as strictly preserve the character of a wife, as if the man had no other attachments. And any act on her part of infidelity would be regarded as a sufficient cause of separation, and she would be discarded as readily as if they were lawfully married. Such separations often occur from jealousy, or from suspicion of attachment to another. And when a separation has actually been made, the parties appear more hostile, and manifest a more deadly hatred towards each other, than is ever witnessed in separations of those lawfully connected. And these quarrels are seldom if ever reconciled, but continue to increase with a savage hatred, that not unfrequently ends sadly to the one or the other, or to the individual who has seduced the woman from her alliance. These men who thus live in these connections are generally persons of ample means, and usually appear to be proud of the distinction of being able to support two families.

There is another class of individuals here who have not the means to support two families. They are usually men engaged in the same business with the others, and required to be absent from the city nearly half of the time. These men have their mistresses, either white or colored, with whom they live as companions. And the regulations of these connections are that while the man is in the city, the house which the woman occupies is their home, jointly and as distinctly as if they were married; and when he is absent, the women seeks other companions, for the time being, and in doing this does not hazard the displeasure of “her husband,” as she calls him. By this liberty that she has of seeking promiscuous company, and the assistance she gets from “her man,” she is able to support herself in great style, and with as much ease and comfort around her as can be desired. They usually occupy a room, or suite of rooms, a parlor and bed room, that are furnished with as much elegance and splendor as money can purchase. Most of the females living in these connections have been flattered and seduced away from their homes, by glowing descriptions and representations of the pleasures and gaities and unceasing enjoyments which constitute a life in New Orleans. Connections of this character are as much a matter of contract, and the terms and conditions by which each shall be governed are as definite, as any other business transaction can be, and thus they live for years, and in many instances an attachment for each other is the result, and they finally settle down as man and wife, and often sooner or later are married, and become comparatively respectable.

The extent of licentiousness and prostitution in New Orleans is doubtless without a parallel, and probably is double that of any other place in the whole range of the civilized world. The indulgence and practice is so general and common that men do not seek to cover up their acts, or go in disguise; but in all these things, keeping their mistresses, or frequenting bed houses, and having women come to their rooms at night, they do it as openly, and as much before the eyes of the world, as any other act among the common civilities of the social circle. Some idea of the extent of prostitution and licentiousness which is exhibited on every side, can be formed from the fact that at least three-fifths of the dwellings and rooms in a large portion of the city are occupied by prostitutes, or by one or the other class of kept mistresses. Those women who are the companions of one man, and hold that position under a pledge of confidence not to seek intercourse with others, hold themselves very much above the character of prostitutes, and regard themselves as respectable; and as such many of them move in society with some degree of favor and consequence. But however true and devoted the men who keep them may think they are, not one-twentieth part of them but what have other favorites, with whom they meet, not only in their own rooms, but also at the houses of assignation. And in this same condition are living many men with their wives, in whom they have most implicit confidence; yet they have their chosen and confidential companions and friends with whom they meet, not only in their own houses, but at the rooms of assignation. Yet in doing this they are only indulging in the same course that their husbands are following, in meeting other companions in the same way and under the same circumstances. And with all these individuals, of every class, is carried out the wild rage of human passion, that is nursed and fostered by every association and connection in the social relations of New Orleans.

The regular prostitutes come in at the opening of business in the fall, and return to the North in the spring as business closes, as regular as the merchant; many of them come out from New York and other northern cities under the protection of young men, a certain class of gamblers and black-legs who have long made this city their field of operation during the winter months. The prostitutes of this migratory class form the great mass of the inmates of the regular kept brothels, of which there is an immense number in the city. These houses are easily recognized, as the girls who occupy them are constantly to be seen at the doors or windows, inviting men as they pass by to come in. And in some of the principal streets in the city, just at evening, it is not unusual to see the windows and doors of almost every house as far as the eye can recognize them, filled with these girls. The municipal regulations are such that these creatures are prohibited from promenading the streets; hence they are obliged to resort to other measures to make themselves known. In view of all these abominations, doubtless the main cause of so much licentiousness, and the immense number of prostitutes, of every class and grade, is the large number of irresponsible men who frequent this place. Under such circumstances as men meet here, they almost lose their identity as responsible beings, and having no checks around them, and under no obligations to society, consequently no pride of character, they become as bold and reckless in licentiousness, as if the pall of night covered their deeds. And yet men, and some women too, will come in here, and mingle in the rounds of dissipation and pollution, who before and while at home and in other associations, would shudder at the sight, and even at the very thought of deeds which they have been engaged in. Another cause that aids in promoting these evils, is the small portion of men who have families there. Probably not one in twenty is married, and if so, leaves a family at the North, and while here, entirely forgets that he has left at home a wife, who is little dreaming of the rounds of licentiousness and dissipation, that is the almost daily track of her husband. To say that there is a righteous Lot among them—these husbands of confiding wives, would be hazarding too much more than I am willing to do, in view of what I have witnessed in the conduct of men of whom better things should be expected. And thus it is, from such men, together with the thousands of transient and floating population in this city, that makes it more than a Sodom, and causes the sins of licentiousness, adultery and prostitution, to be regarded as the proper elements of society, and perfectly consistent with a respectable and moral standing in community and with the character of a gentleman. And more than this is met with here, and withal, the most astonishing exhibition of degration “in high life” that was ever witnessed.

It is in the practice of a large number of men with their wives, who visit New Orleans and spend the winter, and who to support themselves, take the round of the gay and fashionable throng, and while moving here, the wife, with a perfect understanding of the matter with her husband, suffers herself to become seduced, and thus falls into the arms of some dashing wild young man, who is proud of his conquest. He lavishes upon her costly presents and money, and in fact will bestow upon her any thing that she may demand, within the compass of his purse. And when he ceases to give, not unfrequently will her husband make the accidental discovery of their intimacy, and in the fearless rage of an injured and outraged husband, threaten to come down upon him with all the vengeance of Southern chivalry. And to save himself he will pay almost any sum the husband may demand. Thus she will go on, for months, making conquest after conquest, and being seduced at least by half a dozen, and with all of them, practising the most cunning and deceptive arts, charging each one to be exceedingly circumspect and cautious, so as to avoid the least suspicion in the eyes of the world and her husband. And yet, during all this time, her hands are being filled with costly and magnificent presents and money, and in fact, any thing that she may desire, while each one regards himself as the sole possessor of the stolen fruit! She is enabled to pursue this course, and avoid suspicion among her favorites of being intimate with more than one, by meeting them at the houses of assignation. The regulations by which these houses are kept, throw around a female the most perfect security against detection that can be imagined. They usually go in disguise and often in mask, and very frequently are unknown to the men who see them there, and their name is never enquired for, as it is generally understood that none but respectable ladies, both married and unmarried, frequent these houses. And yet during all these love scenes, captivations and seductions, the lady and her husband are in the foremost rank of the fashionable circle, supporting a style and splendor of equipage that few can surpass or even imitate. Of those who possess this extraordinary faculty of adapting their sense of propriety to circumstances, there are many who come here as regular as the returning season, and have become so familiar and intimate with the routine of fashionable life, that they may be regarded as the principal “stars,” around which all others must circle to enable their lights to become visible to the world. These ladies are usually well educated, highly accomplished and intelligent, all of which give them a ready command of every thing that can be available in the scenes of dissipation which make up the holidays and sporting season of New Orleans. And in this round of enjoyment and gaiety, there is no place that can equal it in lowering the moral sense, and prostrating every virtuous impulse, and creating in the feelings of almost every person, male and female, a light estimate of a life of fidelity and chastity between the sexes, not only among the married but the unmarried. Thus it is, the moulding of all these things is done by those who, for their own gratification, arrange all the rules of social intercourse to favor their own seductive schemes and plots. Hence, the manner and style of dress are always of that character to present and expose the charms of the female form, and are in every respect calculated to present them to the consideration of the other sex, as not being very modest or reserved. Under such circumstances, a ready familiarity is produced, which is increased by her more familiar conversation and ready intimacy, and all designed and tending directly to the accomplishment of her purpose. And here it is, into this circle, are thrown the virtuous and unsuspecting visiters who come into this city for pleasure and pastime, and if they can pass through and come out unsullied, and as pure in mind and as chaste in their sense of propriety and as virtuous in feeling as when they entered, they will hereafter be perfectly secure against the vices and contaminations of the world. But those who do so are few indeed; for they must be more than “Cesar’s wife,” that can enter these enchanting scenes, where every thing they come in contact with is an appeal to the passions, and not a thought or an expression do they hear, but what is calculated to betray and seduce, and forever banish the purest impulses of the heart.

I come now to another singular demonstration, to be met with only in New Orleans. It is a circle of “fashionable ladies,” who occupy a position in society only a step below the leaders among the “upper ten thousand.” They are also girls of excellent education, of superior accomplishments, and of great personal beauty, and present a combination of all the charms that can make a female attractive. There are quite a large number of them here, and they occupy no mean position in point of influence and condition in the circle of society. By their course of life they have amassed large fortunes, and are living in a style that few can imitate. Their dwellings and every thing around them, are of the greatest comfort and ease; and every thing they can desire, in servants, horses and carriages, is at their command. They have brought themselves into this position by their superior charms and attractions, in being able to select their companions from among the rich and reckless young men, who annually come down here to learn the ways of the world. In their intercourse in society they claim to be entirely above the common herd of prostitutes, and regard themselves quite respectable. The reigning belle, at the present time, among them, is a girl from Louisville, Kentucky. And in all that can render a female beautiful, attractive and charming, she doubtless presents more in form and features that captivates the beholder, than was ever before met with in a human being. In addition to all these combinations, the splendor of her costume, when in full dress—the display of costly diamonds and jewels, together with her artful and winning smiles and transcendent beauty, strike the beholder with an awe that banishes from the mind every idea that he is in the presence of and looking upon a corrupt and vicious being, whose whole current of life has been one continued stream of pollution and death. It is so unnatural that a being of such mould, angelic in form and expression, and with a mind of superior caste flashing out from every glance, should stand before you with every impulse and every attribute of the soul prostrated to the most venal and debasing practices that sicken and disgust the moral sensibilities. And yet at her shrine, and in her wake, are found the rich and exalted in society, who are proud and even boast that they have been her companions, and being thus favored is a climax in “fashionable life,” which they regard as a distinguished honor. And here she moves, a being that attracts more attention, and is followed by more eyes, and with a longer gaze, when she walks or rides out, than any prince or princess that moves in royal sphere. It is said that her jewelry and diamonds, in finger-rings, ear-jewels, and breast pins, and wristlets, and gold chains, and watch, are worth upwards of thirty-five thousand dollars. And these have all been lavished upon her by those who have fallen within the circle of those seductive charms, that, serpent-like, never miss their victim.

I come now to another, and I believe the most extraordinary exhibition of degradation to which human nature can be reduced; and here I would gladly pass it by, and if it were possible, I would forever conceal from my countrymen, not only this complete annihilation from the human breast of every particle of self-respect that keeps man above the brute, but the most blighting and damning national disgrace that was ever exhibited. It is the connections that are formed between white men and colored women who are slaves. Individuals there are, of the first respectability, who take for their bed companions not only the Quadroon, but those of darker hue, and frequently those of the blackest shade, and live with them as with a wife, and by whom they have large families. As an instance of this kind, the late collector of the port of New Orleans, a man who was the recipient of government favor, and receiving a salary of six thousand dollars a year, has lived for years with a mulatto woman, by whom he has had six children; and finally becoming displeased with her in the fall of 1847, he discarded her, and since has taken for his companion one of his own slaves, who is as black as charcoal. Another instance: One of the first lawyers in the city, a man of transcendent powers of eloquence and ability, has had for his bed companion for the last four years a black woman, a slave that he hires, and pays her master fifteen dollars a month. Another lawyer, a native of New York, and brother of one of the most distinguished judges in the State, had for his bed companion a mulatto girl for seven years. During this time he was paying his addresses to a highly accomplished young lady in the city, and last winter was married to her. His new white companion of course required him to discard his black one. After he was married, the poor discarded slave who had been his devoted companion for years, and had watched and nursed him through long and dreary nights of sickness, and whose very soul was the living embodiment of woman’s pure affection, became a raving maniac. She rushed in all the horrors of her madness to the River, and attempted to drown herself, yet was saved by a flash of returning reason that came over her, and she was thus left another living monument of the deep and damning shame that should forever follow him, who has thus outraged every moral impulse of the human soul. And it will follow him, although not in pointing the finger of scorn at him as he walks the streets, for he has not violated any of the conventional rules of the moral sense of the community in which he lives. But in his own conscience and heart will he find an image, that when he calls it up before him, will change the warm current of his blood into a blush of remorse and shame upon his cheek. There are hundreds of instances of this kind, men of the first respectability, having for their bed companions slave women of every degree of color, from the darkest hue to the soft and mellow tinge of the beautiful Quadroon. Another exhibition in these alliances is, a man by the name of B——, a celebrated sportsman, and owner of the race course opposite the city, and known to all the gentlemen of the turf in this country. He is a man of great wealth, and is regarded as second on the list of horse racers and sportsmen in this country, Col. Johnson being at the head. He has had a mulatto woman for his bed companion for years, and has now living four children—one son and three daughters. A young man from the North, by the name of P——, who was engaged in training horses, and had charge of his stable, married one of his daughters, a beautiful Quadroon girl, well educated and highly accomplished. Her father hired him to marry her by giving him a large sum of money.

Another connection of this kind, was a man who bought a beautiful girl from Kentucky, for a bed companion, and paid for her eleven hundred dollars. He lived with her about sixteen years and had five children. In the fall of 1837 he determined to remove from the city, and take up his residence in the Island of Barbadoes. Before leaving he sold this woman and his five children for thirty-three hundred dollars. I was informed that this family was the most interesting and lovely group of children ever witnessed, and in only one of them could be traced the least shade of African blood. Instances of this kind often occur, and yet men who do it are regarded as human, and those who make laws to legalize such acts are christian in their tendencies and education, and those who support them are a proud and chivalrous people, and claim to be civilized!! Alliances of this nature have been continued so long between slave women and white men, that there are a great many slaves in whom cannot be traced the least shade, either in form or feature, of the Ethiopian; and they are also of all complexions, from the light flaxen hair and bright blue eye, and the sandy and freckled countenance, and the keen black piercing eye, and clear beautiful white skin with rosy cheeks, making the very perfection of loveliness and beauty. Yet they are forbidden by the rules of society to hold rank above the blackest slave, and the common civilities of the social circle are never extended to them. The life of a mulatto girl, or Quadroon, as they are called at the South, is as strictly marked out, and the path which she is to take has been so long beaten, that she is as much confined to it as if it was a fixed law in the slave code.

And this class of girls also claim the privilege, as a matter of right, when one arrives at the age of puberty, from twelve to fourteen, if not previously engaged by the master, to look for a man such as she may fancy, and engage herself to be his bed companion. And in this relation she remains with him for a specified sum per month, which she pays to her master. The amount paid these girls is usually from twelve to twenty dollars a month. If they are genteel and beautiful, and combine all the perfections in form and features that can be presented in a female, they will command a price accordingly. And thus in proportion as their qualities and charms are regarded, will they be considered valuable, and their price in market is in that proportion. They have their points of ambition, and pride of situation, and assume an air of aristocracy according to the rank and station of the man with whom they live, as much as any other class in society. To be the paramour and bed companion of some man of great wealth, or lawyer, or professional man, or some popular and distinguished gentleman, gives them a condition and standing that is enviable indeed to those of the same class, who are living with men of less means and lower standing in society. And this makes a circle of the “upper ten thousand,” as clearly marked as among the white aristocracy. These girls are usually educated and instructed by their masters in a certain way, for the express purpose of producing all the attractions and charms that can be presented in a female, whose value is much increased by a greater combination of all that is beautiful and lovely in woman. It is very frequent that these girls are engaged while children for bed companions, as soon as they shall arrive at the age of puberty, by some wealthy man, and not unfrequently will some disgusting drunken old bloat meet with a beautiful Quadroon child, and engage her of her master for a bed companion, as soon as she becomes of proper age, and the price which he agrees to pay is of no consideration with him. Her loveliness and charms, even in the purity and simplicity of innocent childhood, have aroused the impulses of his beastly nature, and have her he will at any price. And this outrage is too horrid for contemplation, for they are thus forced into a situation where they pass their days in the greatest misery and grief that can be imagined. Girls of this class also are often purchased by men expressly for bed companions; not only when they are children, but when they are of mature age.

The price paid for a healthy Quadroon girl, from the age of twelve to fourteen, ranges from one thousand to two thousand dollars, according as the purchaser may fancy them, and as they are regarded to present the beauty and charms of a Quadroon. Connections of this kind, not only between those who purchase them, but those who hire them, often continue for years, and frequently become such, that an attachment and even an affection grows up, as strong and as enduring as was ever witnessed between man and wife. And many instances of these connections have been known, where a man, after living with a girl for a number of years, will turn her off for the purpose of being married; and yet when he is so, and has a family around him, his attachment still continues to the being in whom he has so long confided, and whose heart he knows to be as warm and as devoted to him as is her love of life. In view of this, he drags out a miserable and disconsolate existence; and the discarded and broken hearted Quadroon, on whose brow is a tinge of yellow shade that will forever doom her to unending disgrace, sinks away into a lone and premature grave, a poor forgotten and wretched slave, and never more to be remembered only by him whose heart has melted into hers, in the true spirit of unending affection. Not only such scenes as these are frequently witnessed, but instances often occur, when a man has discarded one of these girls and has been married, he is forced to purchase her for the purpose of selling her again, and binding the one to whom he sells her, that he will take her away from the city, so that he may never meet her and that she shall never return. He is obliged to do this, in consequence of her affection for him, and also his attachment to her. When these girls, while being kept as mistresses, have children, they are usually sent back to their master, who either hires them boarded with some negro woman, or “turns them into the yard” with his other slaves, until the child is old enough to be left from its mother. Thus the father of this child—the lawyer, the gentleman, or the merchant, or whatever he may be—has the pleasure as well as the gratifying reflection that his kindred will not become extinct, and that his blood will continue to course in the veins of another human being through the next generation, and also he can remember with the pride of a father, that when the mother of his child has lost her charms, there is another beautiful Quadroon girl to take her place who has been cast off as a worthless and useless thing. And this is, almost without exception, the course that is forced upon them by a long established custom. When they are of no account in this way, they usually hire their time, at a low rate, from three to five dollars a month, and resort to various means to support themselves. Some will keep houses of assignation, and others will rent a house, with rooms furnished, and rent them to men who keep a bed companion, and board them. While others will rent a house, and hire negro girls, slaves of the lowest class, who will steal away from their pens, and come in and spend the night. They will also agree with “negro traders” to send in a number of girls from their slave pens. These are the lowest grade of brothels in New Orleans, and there are hundreds of them scattered through every street and lane in the city. And yet with these women are a large number of men, boarding and lodging, who are seen in the morning, creeping out through some back lane or alley. And follow these same men, and you will meet them in the Saloon of the “St. Charles;” and in all the rounds of dissipation and pleasure, they appear as well dressed and as intelligent and accomplished in their manners and conversation, as any person you meet with in the city. Many, and doubtless most of these persons are here from necessity, in not being able to meet expenses that would accrue in any other boarding place; and also, a large portion of these men who are found in these dens are those who come in from the North to “seek their fortunes,” and as I have before said of them, when failing to obtain employment, join in some catch-penny concern, in the way of “Peter Funks,” or gambling on a small scale, and borrowing of some acquaintance on account of respectable connections, succeed in obtaining a small pittance to pay for board and accommodations at a negro brothel. And I repeat again, young man, keep away from this city. Banish every idea that may come up, of the great advantages and facilities that you may think are found here for making money and soon a fortune, for they are no part nor beginning of things in New Orleans.

There is in this city so much to be met with of a demoralizing tendency, and the tone of moral sense is so clearly out-spoken, that a person is not aware of what surrounds him, until he pauses and contemplates the scene in which he is moving, and the complete prostration of any thing like a controlling influence of public opinion. And it is a truth recognized in every civilized country, that good order and even common decency cannot be promoted or maintained, unless it is by the concentrated force of the opinion of good men against the overt acts of the vicious. And when we see, as we do in this city, the best men, public officers, the mayor and common council, giving countenance and sanction to outrages and desecrations, it is evident that the most wholesome regulations cannot sustain a healthy tone of moral feeling. And there is also a total disregard of an institution, that all good men revere and respect, as of divine origin; and if not as such, hold it to be, in its observance, the great conservator of the best interests of society, and that no people or community can preserve its character for morality and good order, without a due observance in christian form of its requirements. But here the civil authorities, together with all good men, by official acts and personal example, desecrate this day to every purpose that the baser passions may demand. And these official acts are, in granting licenses for horse racing, bull fighting, theatres and exhibitions of all kinds, and even brothel balls, on the Sabbath. As evidence of the countenance given to these things, and of the state of public feeling, the following notices will give some evidence how the Sabbath is regarded by the mayor and common council, and the good people of New Orleans. These announcements are made in the city papers, and also in large attractive bills, put up in every part of the city.

Now here are the Mayor and Recorder, and twenty-two of the best citizens of a civilized and christian city of over one hundred thousand inhabitants, meeting every Sabbath to make arrangements for a Masked Ball! and in view of such examples from such men, what else but a perfect Sodom could be expected of New Orleans?

This is done by permit of license from the Mayor.

Now with such attractions, who could refuse to attend such a place even on the Sabbath!! provided that license is given by the authorities. And yet the attractions and entertainment are not all advertised in the bill.

But the matter of astonishment in these things is, that in this enlightened age, and in a civilized community, and in this country too, public officers in a city could be found, who would, under the sanction and seal of their office, grant a license for a regular brothel Ball Room. The assemblage of prostitutes and lewd women at these rooms, is without exception, taking all the circumstances into account under which they meet, the most wanton, debasing and licentious exhibition of human passion ever witnessed. There are three of these Ball Rooms licensed in the city, open every night and filled to overflowing. The prostitutes all appear with MASKS on their faces, and so well concealed that it is impossible to recognize them. The excessive drinking and carousing practiced at these places, enables the girls to induce men under such circumstances to accompany them home.

Women are admitted free of charge, and men pay one dollar for admission. The Bar and the eating tables are the principal sources of revenue, and that is immense. It is at these places where many rich scenes are exhibited in the detection by some confiding and much abused mistress, who has long been haunted by the green-eyed monster with visions of unfaithfulness on the part of her paramour. She becomes confirmed in the belief, that he is playing “fond dalliance” with some beautiful Quadroon, or some other bright-eyed “Donna,” and to be sure of a capture under circumstances that will allow of no escape, she goes in MASK to the Ball Room, and there she beholds all that her imagination has conceived of inconstancy, of treachery, of false hearts and love unrequited. And here she watches, with more than argus eyes, and follows their every step, and listens until she hears the outpourings of the soft words of honeyed love, and then, with more than a tiger’s rage, she rushes upon the unsuspecting girl with whom “her man” is so devotedly playing the agreeable, and with the jerk of a whirlwind, the mask is torn from her face, her dress flies in shreds, and what is left of the poor torn and tattered creature, is a miraculous escape from annihilation. After thus accomplishing all that she desires in making this public demonstration of their long continued intimacy, she leaves the room in triumph, and returns to her house and settles the affair with “her man,” by a course of “curtain lectures,” usually being satisfied in settling the play as an even game. And there too, in mask, will many a confiding and devoted wife look for her husband, and witness the realities of all the forebodings of her imagination, through long nights of lone watching. She has found him here, and follows his footsteps while, arm in arm, he joins in the whirl of the giddy dance, with the wild and polluted being who is holding her loved and cherished one by charms as fatal and deadly as the serpent’s steady gaze. It will be seen by the announcement in the bill that three nights in the week balls are given to Quadroons, or mulattoes; and on these evenings the attendance of men is nearly double that of the white balls. And this affords a confirmation of the truth of the old saying, “there is no accounting for tastes;” and also of the truth of what is asserted of the gentlemen of the South that they will seek for companions among the yellow and even black women, and discard the white ladies. Notwithstanding these things, Southern men regard the act of eating at the table with a colored person as a disgrace, and an outrage and an insult too great to be submitted to. And yet they will have colored girls and colored men for their bed companions, for body servants, for cooks; and in fact, every thing they eat, drink or wear, they will see pass through their hands without the least shudder or repugnance, or sickness of stomach.

The following notice presents still further the tone of moral sense of the authorities and the people of this city. It was displayed in large bills for twelve successive Sundays in the winter of 1847-8.

This announcement gives the reader a programme of the interesting performance of bull fighting. Yet sports of this kind are very little understood in this country, and are not what it is generally supposed they are. The idea of them has arisen from the expression used when speaking of such scenes as bull fights, giving the same understanding as those of kindred performances, as “cock fights,” or “dog fights,” which every one knows to be contests between two animals, usually trained for the purpose, and the same impression prevails almost, universally in regard to “bull fights;” supposed to be a contest between two fierce bulls. But such is not this SPORT! and that the public may not be misled, and to correct a general false impression, such sports should be announced as “bull murdering.”

The arrangements for such displays are in a circular inclosure, about six rods in diameter, with a very strong fence. Around this circle are seats in amphitheatre form, capable of holding five or six thousand persons. Into this ring a single bull is admitted. At the same time in the ring are usually eight men, trained to the civilized and christian sport of bull-murdering. Those who performed in New Orleans were native Mexicans, and came from Matamoras for the express gratification of the Mayor, Common Council, and good people of the city. When they appear in the ring, they are dressed in fantastic style, and each one wearing a small crimson cloak. And this is his main protection, and used mostly, in “teasing” the bull; for when in the fierceness of his rage he fixes his eye upon his victim, and plunges at him with tremendous velocity, and death seems almost inevitable, the man adroitly slips the cloak from his shoulders and steps one side, and holds it precisely where he stood, and on this point the blow of the animal is sure to strike.—Hence the cloak receives the full force of the goad of the bull’s horns. It is evident from the actions of the animal, that the bright and dazzling color of the cloak charms his eye so that he is unable to turn his attention from it; for he will often strike the cloak down, and turn round and examine it with great minuteness in search of the man, and seems astonished that he has not caught him. When the bull is cut loose and passes into the ring, a man sits over the gate-way and drives into his back a barbed dart. It is prepared and put in a stick about eighteen inches long, and when driven into the animal it remains there to tear and lacerate the flesh, for the purpose of exciting his rage and making him more furious. And this it does, for when the dart strikes him, with a roar of vengeance, he rushes in with tremendous fury, and often clears the ring in a moment of every man in it. There appear to be paroxysms of terrible rage in the expression of the eyes of the animal, that strikes a fearful awe in the men; and they will throw themselves out of the ring in an instant, although the bull is standing perfectly still. The performers with the cloaks are Capeadores, or “teasers.” After this part of the “sport” has continued for a sufficient time, four other performers come in, each having four bearded darts, the body of which is a stick about six inches long, and beautifully trimmed with colored tissue paper representing rosettes. There are the Banderillas or arrow-men. The great feat and climax in this part of the “fight” is to fasten, by a stroke with the hand, one of these rosettes in the curl between the eyes of the bull, and escape the goad of his horns. To do this, is a triumph that is greeted with stamping and rounds of applause, which convinces the daring one that the audience is fully alive to the great feat that he has performed in decorating a bull’s face with a beautiful rosette! There are but few performers who have the courage to attempt this act, as a failure is always treated with hisses and cries of “turn him out”—“turn him out.”

The next great expert act with the darts is to fasten one in the centre between the horns, on the neck, and escape unhurt. This act also is greeted with rounds and shouts of applause, all of which excites the audience and arouses the fury of the bull. The darts being disposed of, and most of them sticking in the head and neck of the animal, the same men take each three bearded rockets, prepared on sticks about eighteen inches long, and so constructed that when they are driven into the bull they will ignite, and after burning and hissing for a time, will explode with as much force and noise as a heavily charged musket. These are alternately driven into the head and sides of the bull, and while they are burning, hissing, and tearing his flesh, a more wild and terrific scene can scarcely be imagined. He roars, plunges and lashes his sides, with the most intense writhings of maddening pain and fury that can be conceived. After the rockets are exhausted, the chief or swordsman comes in, with a straight sword two feet and a half long, for the purpose of ending the contest by taking the life of the bull. To perform this act, and strike the animal through the heart at the first blow, is the climax of all feats in the whole round of bull-fighting. The swordsman is obliged to do it according to prescribed rules in the science of the sport. He must strike his blow in a particular spot, and when it is done, must stand on the left side and drive the sword in just forward of the point of the right shoulder through the heart of his victim. And while this attempt is being made, and the swordsman is following the infuriate animal, it in turn rushes furiously after him, and seems fully conscious that the time has come for the exhibition of that part of the “sport,” as announced in the bill to be performed by the chief. During this struggle the audience becomes wrought up to the highest tone of excitement. The swordsman while seeking for an opportunity to strike the fatal blow, if successful in the first attempt, is greeted with shouts and rounds of the most frantic applause ever witnessed, and at the same time showers of money are poured in upon him from almost every hand in the audience, and often amounting to several hundred dollars. He is allowed to strike three times, and if he fails in giving a deadly thrust, the other extreme of disapprobation is meted out upon him in long continued hisses and cries of “take him out,” “take him out,” and thus the audience will magnanimously interfere and save the life of the unconquered bull, who has at least for an hour defied the power of eight men to destroy him; and yet here he is, foaming and lashing his sides, and writhing under the most intense agony, full of ghastly and bleeding wounds, and the tearing of dozens of darts and rockets that goad him at every step; while thousands of human beings are looking on with an intensity of feeling and exultation of pleasure, that is impossible to be expressed by language. Under these circumstances and cries of “take him out,” a man comes in on horse-back with a lasso, and catches the bull by the horns and drags him out. Another bull is then let in, and the same round of teasing and goading with darts and rockets is gone through with, and then he is dragged out with the lasso. The darts and goads are cut out, and the next Sabbath he is let in again, and goes through the same “fight,” with the addition of its being his turn to be killed. Thus as the bill announces, four bulls are let into the ring for the “sport” of one Sabbath, and two are teased, and two are slain. In witnessing scenes of this kind, there is exhibited throughout the whole assemblage, a blood thirsty and savage desperation, and withal, a strong desire that the bull may succeed in goading tearing out the very vitals of some one of the inhuman monsters against whom he is contending. It would seem that the “sports” could not be agreeable, and meet the expectations and desires of the audience, unless a scene of that kind could be exhibited; for when the bull makes a deadly and determined plunge, and his victim barely escapes as by a miracle, as will often occur, the spectators appear disappointed in not seeing the man gored through and through, and crushed into a mangled and bleeding corpse. And to see this done, it appears that every one would go away perfectly satisfied in having witnessed all that could be done in the “sport” of “bull-murdering.” Take it all in all, a more brutal and fiendish exhibition of cruelty cannot be conceived, and yet, on the Sabbath day, in this civilized land, will the good men of New Orleans legalize and sanction this horrid practice. But in this, no one will be disappointed, for it is in perfect harmony and character with other scenes in the great drama of human life in this city. The same kindred and brutal exhibitions are allowed, and usually come off on the Sabbath, in cock fighting and dog fights, with animals trained expressly for such “sports,” and they are often made up by bets of large sums. There are many who make these “sports” a matter of permanent business, and to which their whole time is devoted as a science. A fight of this kind was made up in the winter of 1837, in which a “ruling passion strong in death” was exhibited to an extent almost incredible. A gentleman who was in the last stages of consumption, had arranged a cock fight to come off in about six weeks, when the animals would be properly trained. The bet was $3,000 a side. It was evident, however, that he would not survive the time, either to witness his triumph or defeat, for he could scarcely be expected to live from one hour to another. Yet the excitement and struggle, and determination on his part was so great, to live until the day of the fight, that he was assured by his Physician for three weeks before the time, that were it not for his determination and anxiety, he would not live an hour. The day came, and the fight was made, and he was victorious. He immediately passed from the cock pit to his carriage, and on reaching the side walk, he sunk down and was a corpse in a moment.

Of the accumulation of the sources of evil and causes of contamination, there is none perhaps stands out so glaring as the immense number of drinking houses in every part of the city, sustained only in selling liquor by the dram. And of this practice, it may be asserted without dispute, it is the great propelling power that drives on the maddening car of human passion into every other scene of vice and pollution that is its proper element. This practice of almost constant drinking through the day, pervades all classes of society. Not only the male portion, with scarcely an exception, but the ladies, or a large majority of them, indulge in the daily use of intoxicating drinks. Under all circumstances, in the social relations, in the interchange of civilities, wines and liquors of all kinds constitute the principal offerings in the courtesies of every day life. And it is astonishing indeed, to see how perfectly hardened and proof against the intoxicating effects of Alcohol, the great mass of the people have become. But notwithstanding this constant steeping in liquor, and being able to keep up under it, more than three-fourths of the men who are moving about the streets, have become literally sots, and according to the northern standard of intoxication, are confirmed drunkards. And how can this be otherwise, for there are but few who take less than a dozen drams, and from that number up to twenty-five and thirty a day, and yet these are all high-minded, sober, and respectable gentlemen, full of Southern chivalry—incapable of brooking an insult, and ready to fight in defence of their honor and good name. It is under such circumstances, that we see men of the South so tenacious of their character, and manifest so much pride in having the world understand that they are gentlemen. But of this Southern chivalry, and those high-minded and noble traits of Southern men, of which we have heard so much boast, it is all gammon. It is not there, and the high-toned sense of propriety in observing the practice and rules of what constitute the true gentleman, does not prevail in society at the South, in as great a degree as it does in the more northern states. And certain it is, the standard of what constitutes a good and respectable man, is far, very far below the wholesome and elevated standard which prevails at the north. For no man here could live and sustain a common respectability, should he be guilty of the sayings and doings of a Southern gentleman.—And in all that is mean and low and contemptible in society, in backbiting, neighborhood scandal, and tea-table slander, there is as much, according to the population and facilities for such matters, as in any other section of the country. And in addition to this, there are among these high-toned and chivalrous bloods, more drunken brawls, and breaking canes over each others heads, and hair pulling, and cat fighting, than is met with in any other part of the world. As evidence of this, the scenes that are often witnessed in the popular resorts and drinking houses in New Orleans, will convince any one of the true nature of Southern chivalry. Seldom does a week pass without some of these magnanimous fights, of hair pulling, scratching, and the lowest kind of puppy squabbles, will be exhibited among the gentlemen, those of the first respectability in the city. And yet all these fights will occur, from a high sense of honor and self respect, prompted by an elevated tone of genuine Southern chivalry. The number of grog shops sustained by these gentlemen in New Orleans, is more than legion. They are found in whole blocks—on three of every four corners, where one street crosses another, and ranges of buildings from street to street, every door leading into a drinking house. The style and splendor in which some of these establishments are fitted up, surpasses the most costly and richly furnished parlor in the mansion of any millionaire in this country. At the head of these “enchanting resorts” may be regarded the “Gem,” opposite the Post Office on Royal street. The magnificence and rich display of furniture and fixtures in this grog-shop, shows at once to what extent dram drinking is practiced among the “upper ten thousand” in this city; for none other but a gentleman, with white kid gloves and burnished boots, would dare presume to enter within its brilliant and shining walls. The expense of fitting up this room in furniture and fixtures, simply for the purpose of a drinking house, was upwards of eight thousand dollars. The floor is covered with a beautiful Saxony carpet, costing three dollars and half a yard. Cast-iron settees and chairs, with rich crimson cushions. Two mirrors suspended back of the counter, costing seven hundred dollars each, together with beautiful landscape paintings from the pencils of the best artists in the country. Three massive chandeliers light the room, making it as light as the sun at midday. And thus, is carried out, in perfect order and taste, every article of fixture and furniture in this “Guillotine” for the legs of gentlemen in this city.

This “Gem” was opened in November, 1848, and the first day the receipts were three hundred and seven dollars for drams at ten cents a drink. There are a number of other houses of this character fitted up in the same costly style, and among them is the “Verandah,” the “Orleans House,” and “Phenix,” with many others, and all of which furnish their bars with the most costly wines, liquors and cordials, that can be obtained from all parts of the world. In this display of attraction, where gentlemen can become drunken, fight and quarrel, and pass it away without the event being noticed, except for a few days when the conqueror and his friends will exhibit their prowess in boasting and bragging of the “fine licks” and the “black eyes” given an antagonist, and who perhaps was twice his superior in force and strength, yet being a little more “tight” of the two, and perhaps having met with an unlucky blow from some side arm of a friend of his competitor, he came off second best. And here it is in these pot house brawls among the boasted chivalry of the South, originate nine-tenths of the duels and deadly combats which take place. From fights of this kind often originate hostile and angry feelings, that finally on the next occasion are followed by direct insult designed to provoke a challenge.

From these houses downwards there is every grade of grog shops, to the lowest sipping of whiskey from a tin cup in negro pens, where slaves steal away and imitate the example of their masters in taking a few social glasses in view of participating in the common civilities and courtesies of fashionable life. The practice of drinking so often during the day, with almost every one, is such that eating and sleeping is of small account, and they are indulged in with very little regard to regularity except the meal at dinner. The hour for dining is usually from three to four, and this is the feast for fat things, and the only time at which much food is taken. Breakfast is usually coffee in abundance, and generally is taken in bed before rising. And after rising coffee is taken again with some light article, and this is done from eight o’clock in the morning and at any other time as they may happen to get from their beds before the hour for dinner. Tea is usually taken from seven to eight in the evening, and usually amounts to nothing in the consideration of the good livers in New Orleans. The rounds and revels of dissipation are at their height from nine o’clock in the evening until two in the morning, by which time the devotees of pleasure and the great mass of the inhabitants have become fully surfeited with the things of this world, until they are overcome with the load that is upon them, and one by one they pass away from their labors and repose for a few hours, when they return on the morrow refreshed and invigorated, and repeat the same round in the drama of “life in New Orleans.” From the low dens and grog shops, the miserable victim who crawls away in his poverty and rags, is caught up at first sight by the minions of the law, and hurried before the Recorder’s Court on “suspicion” of being a vagrant, and unless he can find some one to vouch for him he is thrown into the work house for sixty or ninety days, while the proud and chivalrous southern gentleman who has been drinking, carousing, and fighting at the “Gem,” the “Verandah,” the “Orleans House,” or “Hewlett’s,” comes out next day as one of the bloods of the city. But follow for a short time these chivalrous knights, and you will see their steps as sure downwards as that hour succeeds hour, until they are found in the lowest “picayune groggery,” steeped in the very dregs of pollution and death. An illustration and graphic commentary upon a life in New Orleans, was exhibited before the Recorder’s Court in the fall of 1848, in the arrest under the vagrant law of “DANGEROUS and SUSPICIOUS,” in the person of one of those shocking and abandoned wrecks of the “noblest works of God,” a man of mind and genius who had fallen, and had become as he said of himself “like the gnarled oak shorn of its green boughs,” yet he had in his better days moved and revelled in the rounds of fashionable life, and having a ready and fluent speech, and flashings of caustic wit and good humor, it called around him warm and devoted friends, whose kindness was showered upon him in repeating glass after glass until he fell below the standard of a gentleman, and finally was cast off, and thus took a downward leap, and when he appears again it is as a “dangerous and suspicious person” before the bar of justice as a criminal. But the scene does not stop here, for that very authority before which he now stands arraigned on “suspicion,” sets the machinery in motion that takes the victim in at the “LICENSED PALACE,” and carries him along through every grade down to the lowest dens of degradation and misery, and finally brings him up before the same authority as the natural and legitimate fruit of that document to which its hand and seal is fixed as a license for these blighting and damning curses, these groggeries that fill up this city at every turn.

The following incident occurred before the Recorder, and is copied from a city paper.

A very haughty and gloomy-looking individual might be seen passing upwards from Baronne street Watchhouse, towards the Recorder’s office, yesterday morning, about nine o’clock. He was one of the number who seemed to have undergone the Cæsarean operation at the hands of Madame Fortune, but who, more than any of the rest, seemed to have been ripped untimely from the womb of the circumstances by which he had been surrounded. There was a sullenness of manner about him, perfectly in keeping with the bitter sneer which sat enthroned on his cynical lip. His dark eye flashed indignation towards the officer in whose keeping he was, and every now and then, as he raised his iron-bound hands to heaven, he shut his teeth as though he could have crunched a bar of adamant into a pulp. Anon he shut his eyes, and opening them, there came the searching glance and the dark scowl, which seemed to ask, in the language of Shakspeare,

The garb of the outer man was indicative of the severe storms which had passed over it—its looped and windowed raggedness told a tale of misery and wretchedness too often repeated by the numerous children of misfortune.

As the officer unloosened the handcuffs, preparatory to the old man’s being placed in the dock, for examination before the Recorder, not a muscle of his face, nay, of his frame, but was in motion. Shortly after being placed there, he burst into a flood of tears, and, in a paroxysm of the extremest agony, swooned into the arms of a fellow prisoner. After a few moments, however, he recovered his consciousness, and staring wildly round the Court, (as though he were among a horde of savages in the wild desert,) he exclaimed, after a manner which showed him to be well conversant with the drama:

“Verulan Langdale!” said the crier of the court. The prisoner raised himself slowly up from his seat, and running his fingers through the grey and tangled locks, which fell scantily over a well formed forehead, bowed to the court, in token of his identity.

Recorder.—You are charged with being a dangerous and suspicious person, following no honest occupation or calling for a livelihood. Have you any good citizen to vouch for you?

Prisoner.—May it please the court, I know of none—the world knows me not—I am as you see me, the gnarled oak, shorn of its green boughs. I am like Othello—my occupation’s gone. I came here to look after a daughter, who eloped a long time ago with a merchant of this city who, dying, left her all his worldly effects, and she became rich. By chance, I heard she was in this city. She was—she is—but she is the occupant of the Lunatic Asylum, and she has rendered me well nigh fit to occupy the same cell. I have craved from those who have had charity—my wants were small and they were over supplied. I was going towards Ohio, where I have a son engaged in the profession of the law.

Recorder.—May I ask you if you yourself have any profession on hand, and if you are an American citizen?

Prisoner.—I recollect Wordsworth saying in one of his fine poems, when speaking of a foreigner in England—

I bear a “soldier’s name”—I have held a commission in the British service, under the last but one of the Georges’. I have fought, long before I became an American citizen, under the stars and stripes, and have been but lately mustered out of the American service—I have ever thought and do think with Chateaubriand that—“The fairest crown of an old man is his silver hair, and the recollection of an honorable life.” Pronounce your sentence, if you think me dangerous and suspicious.

As the old man repeated the last sentence in a firm and energetic tone, he drew back the folds of his old woolen vest with the hands which had lately been in fetters, and pointing to some half dozen scars, said—

I don’t know how suspicious you may think me, but the enemies of my adopted country always declared me dangerous.

As he gave utterance to these words, a thrill of sensation passed through the crowd, which the Recorder did not ask to check. He himself turned aside to—peruse some other charge entered on the watch sheet. After a short pause, the Recorder, addressing the prisoner, told him he was at liberty to seek his son, and he hoped his search in that quarter would be more successful than it had been on another occasion.

Prisoner.—I hope so.

It is unnecessary to say that the old veteran had funds liberally supplied him. A subscription was set on foot in court, to which the Recorder most liberally subscribed, and “words, cheery words,” fell upon his ear as he left the court, where, but a few moments before, he had stood, to all appearances, a vagrant of the worst class. He did not leave the dock without bowing to his fellow prisoners; then turning to the crowd who ushered him out, he looked again on those he left behind him, as though loth to leave his fellows in misfortune. It was a momentary gleam of commiseration, for it lit up the face with the sunshine of the soul, until the recollection of his past sufferings, awakening all the misanthropic feelings which lay lurking in his breast, found a vent in the language of the gifted Maturin:

Such oftentimes are the slender grounds on which our laws deprive men of one of the choicest blessings said to be ensured by our republican form of government—their liberty.

The life-drawn scene which is here presented in the person of the old man, is a sad tale of desolation and woe, with which the Recorder’s court and the work-house of this city is familiar; yet the subjects for such exhibitions are usually much younger, having been like the old man, “shorn of their green boughs” long before they could point to a head with “silver locks,” and claim for them the respect and reverence due to a ripe old age, even though clothed in rags.

For a time, so great was the increase of the class of vagrants, that the common council was forced to pass a law requiring the police to arrest every such person on “suspicion” of having no regular calling, and if no one will vouch for his ability to gain an honest living, his doom is the work-house without further ceremony.

To be sick and die, and disposed of after death in New Orleans, is more than a fearful scene to be presented for the contemplation of any one away from his kindred, his home and friends; and there is not a place in the wide world where a man would have so many fearful forebodings in passing these ordeals, from the sick chamber to the tomb, as would come upon him while alone, and in the silent watchings of the night he could feel his strength gradually giving away as the hour of his dissolution drew nigh. And when he takes his sick bed, in almost every individual, the impression is almost certain to come upon him that recovery is very doubtful; and every thing by which he is surrounded, and all the circumstances under which he is placed, have a strong tendency to make the impression change to certain conviction; and the longer he is sick the more clearly can he anticipate the day of his death. These convictions come upon him more firmly, from the fact that if he has been long in the city, he learns that it is the most sickly and dying place on earth. Hence he looks forward with dread and fear to the approach of the morrow. And what renders the sick room more fearful and terrific in this city to the stranger—to the individual without a family—to one alone and without kindred and near friends, is all that he requires, all his wants, and all that is done for him, come from those who have an eye single to his purse, and upon that the nurse, the attendants, and physician lay hold, as if “to the victor belong the spoils.” The charge per day for nursing is usually from two to four dollars, attending physician from four to eight dollars, and prescriptions for medicine at apothecaries, from ten to twenty dollars a week. Cupping and bleeding and incidental expenses at least twenty dollars more; and thus, if he can get through a course of sickness for less than one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars a week, he may think he has had his day under a very lucky star indeed. And then if he should die, whatever amount of means he may have, it will all be consumed, for every bill will be made out with special reference to the amount which he may possess. Such is the fashion in this city, and few there are who do not follow it to the letter.

The bodies of the dead are deposited in vaults or tombs, as they are called; yet all above ground, as it is impossible to dig a grave in consequence of meeting water within a few inches of the surface of the ground. There is, however, a ridge of land about three miles from the city which is occupied for a burial ground, where the poor and the slaves are put in holes about two feet deep, and this is called the “Potter’s Field.” The old French depository for the dead lies in rear of the centre of the city, on the skirt of the swamp, yet it is surrounded by dwellings, and may be considered as a part of the city. And a more gloomy, deathly, and pestiferous place cannot be found within the range of the civilized globe. And why such arrangements for disposing of the dead should be permitted, is a matter of great astonishment to any one who can reason from cause to effect. For there immediately within the heart and centre of that city, above ground, inclosed only in brick walls, lay thousands and tens of thousands of bodies in every possible stage of decomposition that can be presented. And the odor from these vaults in hot weather is perceptible a great distance, and near by is almost suffocating. And such is the stench within the inclosures that it brings on the most deathly and horrid sickness. And yet this is in New Orleans, and there it lies, and I know of no more proper place for such an arrangement, so “divil take the hindmost,” as that is the rule by which all are governed. Consequently no matter what exists around them. These grounds are about a mile in length and fifty or sixty rods wide. They are divided into three parts, all of which are enclosed in a solid wall of brick masonry about ten feet wide and nine feet high. In these long ranges of walls are holes resembling an oven, just large enough to slide in one coffin. When the coffin is put in, the opening is filled up with brick laid in mortar, and a small marble slab is also put in, cut on purpose to the shape of the opening, on which is the name and age of the deceased, and any other device the friends may think proper to add. From the bottom of the wall close to the ground is the first opening or vault, and upwards one directly over the other are four, and thus in the whole surface of the side and cross walls, as thick as can be allowed, are these “holes in the wall,” as they are usually jokingly spoken of, making graves for thousands and tens of thousands who are being constantly swept into them by the besom of destruction, made up from the malaria, the effluvia, from the swamps and city. And to render the dose complete, the exhalation from this great charnel house, this mass of corruption and death, is mingling with the sirocco that is pouring in upon them from every point, and is drank down by the living mass who tread those streets as greedily as though it was the vital principle of their existence. These receptacles for the dead belong to the city, and each vault is rented for the term of twenty-five years for fifty dollars. At the expiration of that time, if not re-rented by the friends of the deceased, it is opened, and all that remains of what was once life and animation, bearing the impress and image of its maker, is scraped out, thrown together with the remains of hundreds of others, and burned up. And thus in ashes lie mingled in one common mass the rich and the poor, the proud and haughty aristocrat, and the low and humble plebian—the hard and iron frame of the daring mariner, and the lovely and beautiful form of the bright eyed and laughing girl.

The ground inclosed within the several walls is more than one hundred acres, and is divided into small plots, generally about ten feet long and five wide. On these are built single vaults or those large enough for five or six persons. Those belonging to individuals or families are never disturbed. There are some receptacles of this kind built on a larger plan, from thirty to forty feet square, and twenty to thirty feet high, and large enough to contain upwards of an hundred vaults. These are built by societies or military companies, and some of them are beautiful splendid structures. There are also some elegant family tombs built of the finest Italian marble and costing an immense sum. The most perfect and beautiful one in architectural structure and design, is said to have cost upwards of forty thousand dollars. It contains six vaults, three on each side of a niche, which is open on the front, and the walls on each side contain the vaults or openings just large enough to slide in a coffin. In the niche are arranged some of the most perfect specimens of Italian sculpture from the hands of the best artists of the age, representing the Savior, the Virgin Mary, and several other symbols of the Romish church. As a receptacle for the dead it is without exception the most imposing and forcible appeal to the heart of the living that can be contemplated. And while standing before it in all the perfection of art and science and the genius of man, an awe of awful sublimity steals over the soul, hushes every earthly thought, while those “silent and impressive lecturers,” the image of our Savior, surrounded by types of the heavenly hosts, and though presented by the cold and speechless marble, yet tell us in language too plain to be misunderstood, that all the desires and anticipations of the heart will end as a weary care, and when summed up in the substance and riches of this world they can never enter the portals of the tomb.

I come now to the subject of slavery as exhibited in New Orleans, Louisiana, and Mississippi. And as an American citizen, in view of the Declaration of Independence, and the boasted genius of the institutions of my country, I would gladly crush every thought and banish every feeling of shame and disgrace that comes over me, while contemplating this blighting and damning curse of humiliation to every man who feels a pride in the glory and prosperity of his country. But when in the spirit of pride for FREEDOM and EQUALITY, to contemplate the horrors, the miseries, the cold blooded murders, that are the accumulated wrongs of man upon his fellow man in this land of LIBERTY, it banishes every aspiration of the human soul. Every noble impulse of love of country is buried in shame and deep humiliation. I have seen too much, and I have learned what I know, not from the idle tales of the demagogue, nor the preaching of wild fanaticism, nor from what have been charged as the embellished stories of runaway slaves, but from having been an eye-witness, and having heard the groans and shrieks of the mangled and bleeding slave, while being murdered under the lash and blows of the most inhuman of all monsters, the drivers and traffickers in human flesh. That such things can be done and be tolerated in this enlightened age, and among a people claiming to be moral, civilized, and christian too, is a mystery that will remain unexplained until the attributes of the human heart shall change. That fathers and mothers in this christian land can look around them and know what is the conduct and character of their sons, (in almost every instance pursuing a life of indolence and licentiousness,) and witness growing up around them grand children, sons and daughters of their slave women, and then see those same children of their own kindred blood sold as slaves and chattels in the market. And there are fathers too who will take their own children bearing the impress of themselves, and throw them into market like beasts of the stall. I know it will be said that such are few and far between and isolated cases. But such are not the facts. They are the scenes of every-day life, and they are the sons and daughters, and grandsons and grand-daughters of your Governors, your Judges, your Senators, and members of Congress; and also men in every condition of life. Ah, and more too—your Presidents and Vice Presidents of this christian and civilized land, this land of FREEDOM. And yet these distinguished men are the recipients of the tolerance and favor of LIBERTY-loving men, and voted for to be the guardians of our institutions. They are held up as honest men, as patterns of piety, whose oblations are daily offered upon the altars of christianity!!

Of the impulses of such men I know nothing, and I cannot form any conception of the feelings of an American, of a Christian—of the one who gets his lessons from the Declaration of Independence, and of the other who learns his duty from him who taught the inspired precepts of the Gospel. That persons can thus act is an anomaly that cannot be explained by any principle that governs the human heart. But in this view, with the slaveholder, I know the force of habit—the influence of circumstances—the power of avarice—the desire of ease, all combined with custom, will sheath the heart in a bond harder and less impenetrable than the unyielding adamant. But while I know this I cannot offer an excuse for them; and there is no apology at this day and age which they can plead, that will screen an American citizen or a christian in sustaining these outrages upon the genius of our institutions—upon the spirit of the age—against morality, humanity, upon kindred ties, christianity and nature itself.

The assurance that is often given as an apology for slavery, that the slaves are contented and happy—that they are not abused, and are well provided for, is as basely false and untrue, as the system is infamous, horrid and cruel. For an individual to plead such an excuse for Southern Slavery, in view of occupying the place of a slave himself, even in its mildest form, I apprehend that such a man who knows any thing of slavery—of its abuses—its cruelties—its lashes and murders, his tongue would become palsied on his lips, and a shudder as stiffening as the chill of death would come over him at the prospect of a life of so much pleasure and happiness, as he boldly asserts is the enjoyment of the slave. Put him there, and let him feel for one short month what he knows the slave feels, and then let him come out with an apology for such bondage, and tell of its blessings, its beauties and happiness. And I ask him in all sincerity, if he does not think the slave feels, when he is brought out to be sold, somewhat as he would, if he was forced to stand upon the same block, and hear the Auctioneer tell of his good qualities, his strength, his ingenuity, his powers of endurance, his unblemished character, and “fully guarantied against all the vices and maladies prescribed by law.” Let the experiment be tried with some of these apologists, and take them into the Arcade in the city of New Orleans and sell them at auction, and then let them be taken on to a Sugar or Cotton plantation in the same fields to work with the other happy slaves, and go to his bed in the same long range of “beautiful white cottages,” that look so neat and inviting as you pass down the Mississippi River. After he has been here a few years, nay, only through one season of growing cane or cotton, living upon their good fare, their daily rations and doing their daily task, then let him come up, and tell how happy he has been, and what a curse liberty is, and how much better slavery is than freedom. And yet, the reply to all this is, “oh, the negroes don’t know enough to realize anything better, and they cannot take care of themselves.” Ah, and why are they thus brutalized, and how does it happen that they know so little? Any one who knows any thing of Southern slavery, can explain these things, for they know that every part and parcel of the system, in every particular, is framed with direct design to brutalize, degrade, and deprave the slave. And they know too, that when a slave aspires to be a man, that it is a crime, and the charge is brought up against him, “he is getting too damned smart,” and for which is meted out upon his naked back the severest punishment that can be given by the lash, for the express purpose of breaking him down, and make him cower before his master like a dog. They have seen men with a whiter skin than themselves, and mulattoes too, but a shade darker, who were sons and grandsons of the first men in Kentucky and Virginia, and men who would consecrate talent and powers of intellect, and serve even in Southern bondage, as long as the Patriarch of old did, for a wife, if they could possess one. And do you not think such men can feel, and will they hug their chains, and tell you, when they are not under the fear of the lash, that they are contented and happy? And these apologists know too, that with American Slavery, as a condition of human bondage, there has never been, in any age, nor with any people, whether barbarous or civilized, any thing to compare in point of brutality, cruelty and extreme suffering, resulting from a combination of causes, that destroy life and shorten the days of its victims to an extent that legalizes murder; for it is a fact, proven by the acknowledgment of slave owners themselves, that of an hundred young men, taken from Kentucky and Virginia, put on Plantations in Louisiana and Mississippi, seven years will be the average of their lives. And this is produced by a change of climate, unwholesome food, over-working, miserable and filthy lodgings, and a general want of cleanliness in clothing and every thing they have.

A more loathsome and disgusting place cannot be imagined, than the huts in a negro yard of a plantation. They are generally about twenty feet square, and the hands on a plantation are divided into families, each of which occupies one of these pens. These families number from five to twenty, and the arrangements for sleeping are miserable in the extreme, and what is used for their beds is seldom if ever washed, or cleansed in any manner, and is used until rotted or worn into shreds. The same practice is pursued with their clothing. It consists of a coarse wrought fabric, of cotton and wool, and also of linen. The men wear pantaloons, and a heavy stout frock. The women who work in the field, wear only a long frock, without under clothes of any kind. These are put on and never changed or cleansed, or taken off night or day, until they are worn out. The provision for clothing the slaves, is usually one suit a year to each negro, and they are generally obliged to make this last or go without. But many cannot, and you will often see negroes with only the tattered and torn rags remaining on them, as evidence of a slight degree of modesty and shame, that is manifest in keeping them around him. And thus they live in the most filthy, degraded and beastly condition that can be conceived, and there is not a single provision of any kind, either in food, clothing or cleanliness, or for beds, or dwellings, or labor, but what is calculated to debilitate, exhaust and destroy the physical powers, and produce disease and death; and I make the assurance without the fear of contradiction, that there is scarcely a plantation in the whole range of the Sugar and Cotton growing districts, if examined by a competent board of health, that would not excite their astonishment, that human beings could live, even an average of seven years. In the first place, it will be found that many herds of slaves are kept on short rations, having allowed to each one, from three to three and a half pounds of meat a week, with only corn meal, which they wet with water, and roast on the fire. This is their regular daily food, and the meat is often the most loathsome, disgusting, rotten mass that can be imagined. On this point, I am aware it will also be said, there are but few, very few indeed, of such cases. But it is not true, and every produce dealer in the city of New Orleans, if he has not the fear of the planter before his eyes, will bear testimony to this fact, for I have seen it myself, and know that they sell thousands of packages, weighing from eight to ten hundred each, of smoked hams and sides of pork, that were so rotten that the bones had become loose and separated from the meat, and when they were opened for the examination of the Planter, the maggots would roll over the side of the cask upon the floor.

An instance of this kind I saw in the store of a produce dealer in the winter of 1837. A planter from Mississippi bought eleven casks of smoked meat from a merchant in Lafayette street, which he had purchased the day before for one and a half cents per pound. He sold it to the planter for one and three fourth cents, and when the casks were opened they were literally alive with maggots. After the purchase was made, the clerk, a fine honest New Jersey-man, being astonished at what he had done in selling such stuff to be eaten by human beings, for he knew that a dog in New Jersey could not be found but what would turn from it, asked the planter why he bought such food for his negroes? The planter replied, that it was pretty hard times and cotton was low, and the boys do about as well on it as any. Now in view of this, I know it will be said again, that “such are rare cases;” but the reports of sales of meat in New Orleans tell a different account; for there are hundreds and thousands of such packages of rotten putrid meat sold to planters every year, and the negroes are obliged to eat it or starve, and at the same time the planters tell you “the boys do about as well on it.”

And yet in full knowledge of all these facts, we can find men who will speak of such things as trivial matters, and have some very cogent apology to offer as an excuse to justify the outrage. But with many who practice this treatment with their slaves there is some show for excuse, and that is in their extreme ignorance; for there are a large number of planters, overseers, and drivers, who know nothing of the influence and effect of such food on the system, and that it has a tendency to produce disease and death. Hence for the reason the planters do not know their own interest, the loss to them annually by death is ten fold greater than the expense would be to give the slaves good comfortable quarters, with good wholesome fare, and treat them as human beings. But there are plantations on which these worst features are not found; yet in almost every case the slaves are over-worked, at least one-third beyond what is possible for the physical powers of any human being to endure. They are usually driven out soon as daylight, and often before, and work from fourteen to eighteen hours a day, and in the other part of the time, they are obliged to prepare their food, eat and sleep. This time of excessive hard work is only about five months in the year, during the gathering of the crops. The other part of the season they are only worked from light in the morning until darkness at night. I know it is said they are obliged to work thus to save the crops from perishing. Very true. But why force such an immense crop into existence that will require so much labor to secure it? Cannot avarice be checked nor satisfied without working men and women into a premature grave? As well may it be said, that a farmer of the north is obliged to work night and day to tend his crop of corn, having planted with his cultivator twenty acres in four days; consequently he is obliged to work night and day for forty days to hoe and keep it in good condition that he may get a large yield. And in view of the condition of slaves on plantations generally, without taking into account the whipping, beating and cruelties that are imposed upon them, their treatment from beginning to end is an open violation and outrage upon the laws of animal life, and every thing by which they are surrounded is calculated directly to undermine the constitution and engender disease, and thus destroy them. And I make the assertion without the fear of contradiction from any apologist for slavery who knows any thing about it, from its great champion John C. Calhoun down to the most brutal driver that can be found, they cannot show one plantation in five hundred where the proper provisions necessary for the health and comfort of human beings are made. I know this to be a fact, and so does every man who has looked in upon a plantation in the sugar and cotton growing States of the South. And there is no excuse or apology with the planter for this, for he can do better if he would gamble less, drink and carouse less, and spend less money in sports and horse racing, and not trust these matters to overseers and drivers.

Of the cruelties, in whipping, beating and murdering slaves, it has never been told nor described worse than is practised; and I have been told by overseers on plantations themselves, of what is necessary in the discipline of a set of hands, first to subdue them, and then to keep them in subjection. The first exhibition I had of slavery, was at Louisville in Kentucky, in the fall of 1837, and I shall never forget the nature of the scene before me; for it was the first time that this singular phenomenon was presented to my view, that in this land of freedom, where liberty was engraven upon the escutcheon of every shield, and yet, not a stone upon the earth, but what was pressed by the bondsman’s foot; nor an inch of soil, but what was watered by tears, and the sweat of his brow, and whose very flesh too was torn and reeking from the chains and lash of the inhuman task-master. And who is doing all this? was the enquiry. It is Kentucky—the noble, proud and chivalrous Kentucky; whose sires and sons, on the battle fields of the revolution, poured out their blood like water, and when expiring in their last struggle, while their voice ceased in whispers, would breathe out the magic words, “Liberty or Death.” And it was thus with Kentucky, on the bloody fields of the second revolution. And on that day, her sons were in arms, struggling for their country’s rights and the extension of American Freedom. And here was this singular phenomenon before me, of a proud and chivalrous people, offering up their oblations upon the altar of Freedom, and bearing in one hand the standard of Liberty, while in the other were forged chains for the bondman’s limbs, and the scourge for his back, and whose groans and shrieks were borne off upon the same breeze with their own shouts of Liberty or Death!! And this is no sketch of scenes drawn out with vivid colors of fancy; for it was stern living reality, and human language conveys no impressions and has not power to embellish them with ideal matter, for there was before me at almost every corner of the streets, that proud emblem of our nation’s greatness. It was the STARS and STRIPES calling upon the sons of Kentucky to again rally in defence of their country’s honor. And yet beneath the ample folds of this cherished emblem of Freedom were passing almost every moment the native born citizens of this proud State, driven to their daily task from the fear of the scourge and the lash. And more than that did I witness on a steamboat where was thrown out to the breeze our nation’s Flag, significant that the sons of Kentucky, her soldiers in arms, were there marching to and fro upon her deck and hurrying down to the plains of Mexico, to the field of battle and strife; while below them on the same boat, confined in chains like a pen of cattle, were their own brothers, upwards of an hundred citizens of this proud land, who were being dragged down to that bourne from whence none ever return—the great charnel house of American slavery, the low land and swamps of the Mississippi Valley. The next scene of interest that I saw was on a plantation a few miles above the city of New Orleans. I passed into the negro yard and the first slave I met was grinding corn with a double hand-mill like a common coffee-grinder. He was chained to a post and was literally naked. A plank lay within reach of his chain, the soft side of which was his bed. His punishment was for running away, and he had been confined there to his mill seven weeks. In passing along to a shop, I found two negroes working at blacksmithing. Both were chained to the block, and were hampered with rings and chains on their legs. One of these was a heavy stout mulatto man, and on his right ancle was a ring of iron weighing from six to eight pounds. On the same leg near the knee was another ring weighing from four to six pounds, and a chain fastened from one ring to the other, making at least on this leg sixteen pounds of iron. The rings had worn and irritated the leg, and they were almost completely imbedded in the swollen flesh. From the knee to the top of the foot was one continued putrid running sore; and without exception the most loathsome and forbidding exhibition I ever witnessed. And yet he was at work preparing the heavy irons for a sugar mill. I asked him what he had those chains on for? He replied; “I run away, and by G—d I will again when I get these off and am well.” He had worn them eight weeks. The rings and chain on the other negro were not as large, nor was he much mutilated by them. The first was a noble fine looking mulatto man, with large head and prominent reflective faculties, and evidently with much force of character—presenting nothing of the African blood, except in the shade of his skin. He informed me that he came from Kentucky, and had been on the plantation seven years, and in that time he had seen the drivers kill eighteen boys. All slave men are called boys. Whether this was true or not, I had no other testimony except the circumstantial evidence which was around me on all sides, and I am sure this was sufficient to convince any one that an effort was being made to kill at least four more. In passing towards the sugar field, I found a negro setting on a block. A physician from Mobile, who was with me, spoke to him, and as he raised his head a swarm of flies started off, and looking on the right side of his head above the ear, I discovered the hair full of maggots, and the whole side was one mass of putrid matter. The skull was evidently broken in, as the matter which was running out indicated diseased bone. How he came in this condition I know not, yet the same effect would be produced by striking him with a heavy bludgeon or club. He was perfectly unconscious, and did not answer a question intelligibly, as he was insane. After this scene I was perfectly convinced that the negro in the shop had told the truth, that “eighteen boys had been killed on that plantation within seven years.”

And here I am aware that I shall be met with the usual reply—“that such acts as killing slaves are improbable, for it is so decidedly against the interest of the planter to allow his property to be destroyed in this manner.” I have myself before I learned to the contrary made the same reply; and yet one thing is sure, the reply does not make or prove these things false; and of their truth, I have the testimony of a large portion of the passengers, gentlemen and ladies, on the steamer “Allen Glover,” on her first trip down to New Orleans, in November, 1837. And I repeat that these cruelties are not isolated cases; for men and women are whipped to death, and murdered by inches, and shot down, as a common occurrence in the more Southern States. In proof of this, I was told, on a plantation about twelve miles below the city of New Orleans, by the overseer, that but very few plantations passed more than three or four years without having a slave killed by the driver. He said the season before the driver on this plantation killed the best boy they had. He was beating and kicking the boy, and finally the negro knocked him down. The driver rose up and shot him through the heart. He was a spirited boy from Kentucky, about twenty-three years old, and had been often beaten by the driver for the most trivial thing, and often without the least provocation. And he had borne the goads of the lash so long that his proud spirit broke loose in the fatal blow which he knew would send him to his grave in an instant. And while telling me this, the overseer pointed to the second plantation below, and said the driver about two months before killed a boy by shooting him. When these occurrences take place they are seldom known beyond the limits of the plantation; for it is lawful to kill a negro if he raises his hand against a white man; and I can assure you that few ever make the attempt without being instantly killed.

A most brutal and inhuman case of whipping and murdering negroes was done by the driver on J. R.’s plantation, about forty miles from Natchez, in November, 1848. I will give the fiendish monster’s account of it in his own blasphemous language, while boasting of the deed to another driver. He said, “G—d d—n my soul, if I didn’t whip a woman last week until she childed right on the ground while I was whipping her; and a few days before I whipped another woman till I thought she was dead, but she revived a little and I told the niggers to carry her in the hut. The next day she sent for me, and when I went in she told me that she was going to die, and that I had killed her. I told her I was G—d d—n glad of it, and I was d—n sorry I hadn’t done it for her yesterday; and she died that night.” Yet this is all legalized, “moderate correction;” and doubtless will be considered as an “isolated case.”

The driver’s duty on a plantation is to see that the negroes are at work, and to do this he usually follows them into the field, and exercises a general supervision over their labor. His equipments are a heavy knife, a revolver pistol, and a large whip, the lash of which is about seven feet long. While in the field, if the negro does not work rapidly, or if he violates the rules of the plantation, this lash comes down upon him with a power and force that cuts through his clothes and tears his skin and flesh in shreds. These blows will often be repeated by a peculiar swing of the lash from right to left, every one of which will cut a hole where it hits like a scoop with a gouge.

The “break-down whippings,” as they are termed on the plantations, are usually done by placing the slave with his face to a post in which is framed a cross bar. An iron collar or ring is put round his neck and fastened to the post. The arms are extended each way and fastened to the cross-bar by rings around the wrist. They are then stripped bare, and thus are whipped from twenty-five to fifty lashes and upwards, and sometimes as long as a man can continue to use the whip without being exhausted, and they often die there under the lash. If a slave is brought down from Kentucky or Virginia, and sold to a planter at the South, and it is understood that he has any pride, or occasionally assumes a degree of independence unbecoming a slave, or shows any reluctance against being driven beyond what is consistent and human, he is, as the drivers say, “getting too damned smart” and must have a small touch of the “Mississippi break-down;” and without any further ceremony he is put on to the post and whipped until the driver thinks he “will not be quite so smart.” And in many cases it is necessary to repeat this “break down” operation a number of times before the “smartness” will all pass out of them.

The change from Kentucky and Virginia slavery, to a large cotton or sugar plantation in the more Southern States, is as great almost as liberty and slavery, and there are many slaves taken from these States and sold far South, that can never be subdued only by death; and this they are sure to meet unless they give up their “smartness.” And in them is only seen exhibited the motto of every American citizen, “Liberty or Death.” They will never yield, for they have the feelings of an American, and the pride and spirit of their own fathers who are among the most distinguished men of their native State. And this is American slavery—one of our “cherished institutions!” and the forbidding of its further extension is now threatening the existence of this happy Union, and to deluge this land in blood!!

The whipping of women on plantations is in a different manner. Their frock is turned up over their head, and they are made to lie down with their face to the ground, their arms extended and tied to a stake. A board is then taken which is prepared in shape like a shovel. The wide part is bored full of small holes, and with this they are beaten on the bare flesh, from twenty-five to two hundred blows. After these blows are repeated a few times the skin tears away, and the blood and flesh is forced through these holes with great force and flies several feet from them; and yet this is very modest and “moderate correction.”

Females are required to do as much work on a plantation as men, and there are generally about thirty women to seventy men. The treatment of slave women is so severe, and their labor so hard, that very few children are raised on the sugar or cotton plantations; and if they are alive at birth they grow up feeble and puny, and from neglect and the want of proper cleanliness and care very few become men and women.

The relations and intimacy among slaves on plantations are managed with great care, and every thing that is allowed to exist between the men and women, is permitted with a view to degrade and brutalize them, and destroy all moral sense, as well as self-respect. A rule or regulation of any kind calculated to elevate the thoughts above the brute, or a disposition on the part of the slave to cultivate the moral sense, would be crushed at once, and an attempt on the part of a slave to do so would meet with the most severe and cruel punishment. Hence kindred ties, and parental affection, and the attachment between man and wife, are among the first things to be broken up, as the permission of such demonstrations would have a tendency to humanize the slave, and make him, under such circumstances, somewhat an object of sympathy. A connection among them as “man and wife,” in which the planter sometimes officiates in a mock ceremony of marriage, is allowed under certain rules, yet care is taken that such alliances do not continue for a long time. When they are broken up they are allowed to seek other companions for a short time. Thus they succeed in preventing anything like an affection, or attachment, or respect for an alliance in the character of “man and wife.”

The following extract of a letter from a highly respectable gentleman in Galveston, has been kindly furnished me, and a more truthful picture, to the life, cannot be drawn, and one too on which the good people of this country can look, and stand rebuked by the lesson of moral sense, which came up in the honesty of his soul from this poor slave, in view of the life which he would have entailed upon himself and kindred, had he fulfilled the marriage vow with poor Lucy. The occurrence took place in December, 1848—

Alas! too true. How often we laugh when we ought to be ashamed that our sensibilities are not more deeply shocked.

The restrictions over the slave in New Orleans are exceedingly rigid and severe. At 8 o’clock in the evening a cannon is fired in the Place d’Armes, as a note of warning for all slaves to leave the streets and “turn in.” If they are caught out after this hour without a written pass from their masters, they are taken by the watch to the calaboose or city prison; and in the morning are whipped twenty-five lashes, and their master is obliged to pay three dollars to get them discharged. When the slaves become too “damned smart,” or for any thing which they may do, require punishment, the general practice with the slave owners is to send them to the calaboose, where they have all the shackles and preparations necessary to do up such jobs in good order and on short notice. In doing this, also, the masters save themselves from the indignation of the slave, which would naturally become aroused if the punishment was inflicted by the hand of the master himself. The slave to be whipped is sent with a note to the calaboose, in which is money to pay for the job. If twenty-five cents is in the note he gets twenty-five lashes,—if fifty cents or a dollar he gets accordingly. And this whipping slaves at the calaboose at one cent a blow is a very lucrative business, and many a poor fellow comes away with scarcely a shred of skin on his back, and very often he does not know for what crime or for what purpose the whipping has been given him, unless it is because “he is getting too damned smart.” For the crime of attempting to gain his liberty, for running away, a slave is punished more severely than for any thing that he may do where death is not the penalty. And very often for repeated acts of this kind, where the design is only to whip him within “an inch of his life,” a mistake is made in the distance of an inch, and he is whipped within a quarter of an inch and dies in a few moments. Next on the list of crime, a slave is punished for stealing almost as severely as for running away, and they are often whipped severely on mere suspicion of having stolen. For the punishment of slave women in New Orleans, for any crime, either theft or being “quite smart,” or for general correction, they are usually sent to the work house, and from here they are organized in chain gangs, and put in charge of a driver, and sent out to clean the markets and collect the dirt and rubbish in the streets. When a slave woman is sent to the work house by her master for punishment, he is obliged to pay twenty-five cents a day for the privilege of having her worked in the chain gang. In November, 1848, I saw a chain gang of forty-nine women and girls in Exchange street, cleaning away the rubbish, brick and dirt, that had accumulated in tearing down buildings for the purpose of extending the street through from Custom to Bienville streets. They were shoveling dirt and brick into large boxes, on each side of which were fastened long sticks extending each way far enough for handles. They would load the boxes and carry them some distance to be taken away by carts.

These chain-gangs are formed by fastening together two women with a chain about ten feet long around the waist of each, and in this situation they are driven about the city day after day as street scavengers, and among them are often many fine appearing and delicate looking mulatto girls; yet they are here driven to the hard toil of shoveling dirt, and doing the heavy labor of a beast; while the proud and chivalrous southern gentleman will pass by and see these women thus degraded and brutalized, and never have thought or feeling of shame, nor a blush come over them, that such scenes are an outrage upon humanity, and a deep and damning disgrace to the civilized world. And yet here too, in this christian land, will christian men and women, witness this more than savage brutality, and heed it less than they would if the women were dogs, while at the same time these pious ladies will contribute money and means to civilize and christianize the poor heathen in some far distant land. And more than this, they will indite long prayers and repeat them time and again, that heaven would prosper the great cause which lies so near their heart, of turning the brutal heathen from his inhuman practices; and yet these same heathen, if they could promenade the streets of this city with these pious ladies, they would be shocked at sights of barbarity and cruelty, such as savages would never inflict, unless to punish their most deadly enemy. And here let me ask, in view of such scenes as are daily witnessed under the sanction of public authority; if there is any sense of propriety in men, or any regard for common decency, should not public opinion frown upon such men who make these regulations with a force that would drive them into the haunts of savages where they properly and constitutionally belong.

The treatment of slaves in New Orleans as a general thing is horrid in the extreme. There are many who are driven daily into the streets and obliged to find work, and at night return with their wages, and if they do not do it, are sent to the calaboose and whipped from fifty to an hundred lashes. There are also hundreds of slaves owned by Irish draymen, who are worked from fifteen to twenty hours a day, and do it continually for months in succession. The most severe and cruel master that ever had power over flesh and blood, is an unlearnt and ignorant Irishman, and in New Orleans, you cannot frighten a negro so badly by any thing that you may say or do, as to tell him you will sell him to an Irishman. They almost prefer death to an Irish master, and they certainly are the most unfeeling, inhuman monsters that can be found on earth. There are also a large number of slaves who are obliged to steal or beg their living, and yet are forced to work and give every farthing they earn to their masters. The sleeping pens also of the slaves generally are unfit for the meanest cur that runs the street; and yet in connection with all this, the practice of whipping, kicking and beating the slaves is so common that sympathy does not appear to be one of the attributes of the human soul. An instance of severity in punishment that came under my own observation, was inflicted on a mulatto girl about twenty-three years old. She was whipped by a negro trader, two hundred lashes and was literally cut to pieces. There was scarcely a particle of skin on her back, and her breasts were torn open in gashes and hung in shreds cut almost entirely from her body. Another mulatto girl I saw who had been beaten by a lady, one of the wealthy, accomplished and fashionable women in the city. She knocked the girl down, stamped on her head and face and broke out two of her front teeth. She was blind with one eye, and her head and face was swollen as full as the skin could be pressed.

It is a very common thing to hear a lady in New Orleans, boast of beating and whipping negro men and women, and they will do it with as much pride and manifestation of prowess, as though they had bearded a lion in his den; and yet the poor negro, when a lady attempts to whip him, is only obliged to stand and bear what comes upon him without daring to move or raise his hand. If he should be so uncourteous as to stir, or run away when a lady was beating him, it is a crime for which he is sent to the calaboose and is more severely whipped than for almost any thing that he may do. And yet such are the ladies of New Orleans, and they are pious and christian ladies too, and their hearts are BIG with sympathy for the poor heathen who are so degraded and suffering so much for the blessings of civilization.

Go to the slave market in New Orleans, in the Arcade, on days of Auction sales for slaves and you will see and learn what you cannot in any other place in the world but a slave market. For it is here before you in unmistakable character, how completely unfeeling, inhuman and brutalized a man can become, and yet be a “gentleman and respectable.” And surely it would be unkind and ungenerous in the extreme, to say that those fine looking, rich and generous hearted men who stand there daily and only sell slaves, are not “gentlemen and respectable.” And notwithstanding all the brutality which you see them exhibit, they claim to have in a large degree, the common sympathies of our nature, as well as moral sensibilities. But an astonishment amounting to amazement comes over you when you view these men as they are truly exhibited here. You see before you an hundred men, women and children of all ages, colors and complexions, and many of them as white and even whiter than the auctioneer or the purchaser. You hear their rude jokes and loud laugh, while describing the qualities and condition of some female, and you can see her shrink back and drop her head with the true feelings and sense of female delicacy; and yet this just rebuke upon them only calls out another rude joke as evidence of greater brutality, while the delicacy and blush of shame, which their rudeness has brought upon the brow of a slave, should teach them even in a slave market to observe the common rules of decency, while treating with females, although they may be slaves. For certainly man should never forget that modesty is one of the natural impulses of the female heart, and never can be invaded in the broad light of day, without changing the warm current of her blood into a blush of shame upon her brow.

When slaves are put upon the block to be sold, their age is told, their capabilities for different kinds of labor are described, their disposition, their perfections and imperfections all come out in detail, and if they are healthy and in good condition, the Auctioneer proclaims that “they are fully guarantied against all the vices and maladies prescribed by law,” and “now, how much is bid for him!” and while the sale is progressing, the slave usually stands like a statue, not a muscle in his countenance moves, nor an expression other than a wandering gaze. And yet you can see that there is an agony and struggle with the feelings of the soul, deeper than tears can call up, or groans express. Here they stand as cold and chilled as the speechless marble, awaiting their doom and destiny. And while all this is going on, you can hear in the crowd of slaves, in low whispers, the mother pleading with the inhuman slave-dealer, and begging and beseeching him in all the agony of a mother’s heart, that her child may not be torn from her. And in return for this she gets the blasphemous curse and a look of more than demon’s glare, that bid her be silent, and tells her that the child is not her own.

And now of such scenes as are here witnessed, I only ask that the people of this LIBERTY-loving land, that fathers and mothers, those whose impulses have never been chilled by avarice and the desire of ease, and the blighting and deadly influence of long familiar custom; let them stand in the slave Auction, in the city of New Orleans, for one hour only, and then let them answer whether they have nothing to do as moral beings, as Christians, and as American citizens, with this outrage upon humanity—this mountain of shame and disgrace that bears down upon the soul of every American—this libel upon the genius of our institutions. If they must go away with sealed lips from such scenes as are here presented, and never raise their voice against them, then may all the accumulated wrongs of the earth be set upon this land, and never be rebuked, nor resisted by the moral sense of community.

The number of slaves sold here at auction is very great, and it is the only place in the city for such sales. There are a large number of traders’ pens, where slaves are received on consignment, and sold on commission. The traders also buy for speculation. The largest of these establishments is in Esplenard Street. They are a long row of low buildings, and on the front step, on the side-walk, the slaves are made to stand for exhibition from 9 o’clock in the morning till 4 o’clock in the afternoon. There are often in these slave-pens, arranged in a line on the side-walk, from five to eight hundred, and these are all fine-looking, robust, stout young men and girls, from the age of sixteen to twenty-five. There are also, in rear of the public sale-room in the Arcade, a number of small rooms, occupied by negro traders and speculators, who bring the negroes from their pens every day, and keep them here for exhibition. This depot in the Arcade is the largest slave market in New Orleans.

To satisfy curiosity, in the fall of 1848, I stepped into one of the rooms, in which were about thirty slaves, principally girls from the age of fifteen to twenty. I observed a fine-looking mulatto girl, about seventeen years old, and enquired her qualities. The trader called her up, and replied, that “she was an excellent sewer, and a first-rate dress-maker—good body-servant and lady’s waiting-maid and nurse—good disposition, kind and careful with children, and perfectly healthy, and without a fault or blemish of any kind.” After this description, he said to her—“Put out your foot and pull up your clothes. See what a fine foot and ancle she has got.” He then bid her turn round, and putting his hands on her waist and hips, said—“See what a beautiful form.” And then removing the slight covering from her neck, he remarked—“And what fine full breasts she has: she will raise at least eight children.” And during all this common place exhibition, I closely watched the blood course through her veins, and could discover a deep tinge of crimson flash over her cheek, and her eyes fell to the floor, as evidence that she involuntarily shrunk from the rudeness that was thus being forced upon her, while the trafficker in human flesh stood there as brutal and unfeeling as though every heart was as callous to moral sensibility as his own. I turned away with a shudder from the scene before me, ashamed of the curiosity that had prompted me to make this invasion upon female delicacy, and call out such an exhibition of human depravity as this trader presented, while her sense of propriety and delicacy had not even the privilege of covering her face, nor the apology of temptation.

There is no place in the world in open day light, where every shade of modesty and common decency is so entirely disregarded, as in these slave Auctions and slave pens, in charge of traders and speculators. And they are without exception the most thoroughly schooled in all that can annihilate every sense of propriety and self respect. Although they are generally wealthy and respectable, and usually men of families, yet they herd in with the slave women that they have in market, like beasts of the field, and in this have no concealment or regard for public observation, or of the ultimate consequences in filling up the slave market with their own children. And this wanton intercourse with slave women is general on plantations, and in small towns and villages, among planters, overseers and drivers, and also among young men of every class and condition in life. It is also a uniform practice with the planters in the lower slave states, when called upon by those to whom they extend their hospitalities, to offer them a bed companion from among their slaves. And in doing this they only treat their friends with the common civilities of the day. And Southern gentlemen will often take with them when travelling a slave woman for a companion, and do it with as little regard to concealment in the matter as though she was his wife, in occupying the same state room on steam boats and at public houses. As excuse for such things, I am aware of the same old argument—“that these instances are rare occurrences, and only practiced by a few men of no account.” But I repeat the assurance, and I give it from what I have seen, and have learned from reputable sources, and the acknowledgements of slave holders and traders themselves, that these things are a part of the social system against which the moral sense of community has never raised its voice.

As an instance of this kind, the following is in character. In the fall of 1848, while the steamer Dove, was on her passage from Louisville to New Orleans, a negro trader was on board with sixteen slaves, nine cows, and two horses. He was an old trader, and had acquired a large property—was a gentleman and respectable, and had a wife and several beautiful daughters in Louisville, Kentucky, where he resided. But, trader-like, he herded in with his negro women for bed companions during the whole voyage, as openly and as shameless as though he was only conforming to the most chaste and refined sentiments of the travelling public.

Another of those isolated cases of southern refinement was witnessed in the steamer “New Orleans,” on her upward trip in Dec. 1848. A gentleman (of course,) had with him for a travelling companion a fine looking mulatto girl, who occupied the same state room with him, and this intimacy was known to the captain and officers of the boat, and all the passengers. I refer to these things thus particular as evidence, the truth which can easily be ascertained that there are at least isolated cases of these outrages, and I again repeat the assurance that these demonstrations are among the legalized practices of every day life in the slave States; for certainly whatever is so common, must by all the rules of common law be legal!!

I leave this matter without comment, and only request the reader to ask himself from whence come these exhibitions? Why this utter annihilation of every particle of moral sense that places man above the brute? And why this degradation of their own feelings, and want of self-respect? And yet to answer these questions, you can only say, that they are the legitimate fruits of slavery—of man being empowered by the laws of his country to hold his fellow beings in bondage,—and wherever this might creates the right, these things will be prominent in the social relations. I know it is said that under this blessed system the slaves enjoy themselves, are contented and happy, and will “hug their chains.” And I know too that this assertion is false in every particular, and that those who make it do so with the full knowledge of the falsehood which they utter; for it is thrown back in his face in language that he cannot misunderstand, every time he looks upon a slave in the deep agony of spirit which he is witness to every day, coming up from the dark recesses of that poor slave’s heart that he has stricken down by the laws of the land, and kneels cowering before him like a dog! If you do not believe this, just turn the scene upon yourself, and let the laws of the slave code and the condition of the slave come down upon you for a few short months, and then go among and tell your fellow citizens whether these things are true, and whether these are only a few “isolated” cases of these wrongs, and whether you think the picture is overdrawn and embellished with ideal matter. But before you take this load upon yourself, I can tell you this is no fancy sketch; for the poet’s wild and delirious imagination has not power to portray these scenes with the colors of fancy; for the breathings of the deep agonies of the human soul cannot be portrayed by the impotence of thoughts uttered in language from the tongue of man. For I have seen the aged slave mother, who had dragged through a life of prostitution, and had around her daughters, who were being driven out into the same ceaseless round of degradation. And I have witnessed a mother’s feelings poured out from the fountain of tears, and have heard her mourn and lament that the monster death had not taken her child before she had become the fit sport and prey of the monster man. And in view of such a life, I have heard the slave mother exult and rejoice, as they ever do, while her daughter and child lay before her a cold and stiffened corpse. And yet you may think this is an idle tale, but when you have seen what I have often witnessed, the slave mother look on her child who had just closed its eyes in death, and say, “I am glad she is dead—master has been trying to sell her for a long time, and she is now well sold. God has got her, and he is a good kind master, and I am glad she has gone, for she will not have to suffer misery, misery, as the poor slaves do.” And this is literally true word for word, as I heard uttered by a slave mother in New Orleans, over the corpse of her daughter about twelve years old. And this is the universal expression of feeling with the slave mothers when their children die. They never mourn nor weep, but rejoice and seem happy.

I now leave all the facts and representations with the reader, with the most positive assurance that they are true in every particular, and so far as the subject of slavery is presented, human language contains no power adequate to portray the reality to the conception of him who has never witnessed it. It must be seen and heard to be realized. You must look over a Sugar or Cotton plantation—you must look into the slave pens in the city of New Orleans—you must stand in the Auction market on the day of sale, and hear the mother plead that her child may not be torn from her. You must witness brothers and sisters bid each other farewell, forever too, as they follow their new master off to an early and premature grave. You must witness the deep agony of spirit, deeper than can be called up from the fountain of tears. You must witness the sundering of kindred ties, and hear the happy mother rejoice that her child is dead. All this you must witness, and then the long days of unending toil—the cruelties—the tortures of the lash—the murders by the club, the knife and the pistol, and when you have seen these things you can realize what slavery is; but you cannot feel what it is, for none but a slave can do this, and you cannot tell it, nor describe it to him who has not witnessed it.

In view of the institution of slavery in all its phrases, there is not a redeeming feature—not one bright spot—not one solitary rule or regulation in the whole system, can be offered as an apology for its abuses, and from beginning to end it is one scene of pollution and death; for its base is avarice, its superstructure idleness, its summit licentiousness, and can there be any thing but wrong in a fabric sustained by such principles? And I ask if the moral sentiment, the spirit of Liberty, and the promptings of humanity, have nothing to do with this mountain of wrongs—this great national curse—this damning shame, that shocks with a blush the countenance of every American when he is pointed to, and taunted with this libel upon the genius of our institutions—upon humanity itself? And must American citizens forever forbear and submit to these outrages?—And must the philanthropist seal in perpetual silence his lips, and never plead for the wrongs of his crushed and bleeding fellow men? Is moral indignation never to be aroused only by crimes committed at our own door? Are Liberty and Freedom mere empty sounds to be forever stayed by the power of tyrants, and the threats of those who trample them under their feet? And must the American citizen forever suffer the disgrace, and be taunted by this libel upon the Declaration of Independence? If this must be—if the patriot, the philanthropist, and the christian, can submit to these things and discharge their duty to themselves, to their God and their country, then more criminal than the slaveholder will they be, for they must answer it to the bar of their own conscience, as well as to the spirit of the age in which they live. And if they are now idle their condemnation will be overwhelming. But this cannot be so—the warning note has gone out—“Slavery must fall.” The eyes of the civilized world are upon it. The philanthropist, the patriot and the christian, are bearing down upon it with a force of moral power that never fail to crush the wrong and drive the evil from the land. And blind indeed must that man be who cannot see the tendencies of the spirit of the age. And dark and benighted must he be, who has not yet learned that the people of this country have determined that this mountain of wrong, this curse of all curses, shall be driven from among us, for it has been seized hold of by the divine aspirations of the human soul, and no power on earth can stay it. That morbid sensibility, that fawning sycophant servility to the slave power, that fearful foreboding of the future, that came up a few years ago against the light and truth, that demonstrated itself in burnings, mobs and riots, have become changed, and in place of madness and alarms the spirit of justice and Liberty have become the ruling passions of the day. Equality before the Laws is engraven upon the escutcheon of every shield, and it cannot be stricken out by the breath of an orator, nor made less potent by the cry of disunion. The slaveholders may meet in convention—manifesto may follow manifesto, from the great champion of slavery and bondage—the threat and cry of dissolution may be thrown out to call up the servility and obsequiousness of the North, to check the current of thought and speech that is bearing down so fearless upon every part of this great citadel—the “peculiar institution” may be held up as guarded by the sanctity of age and law, and constitutional entrenchments, but “IT IS TOO LATE,” and they will be swept away by the MORAL SENSE which is aroused in a spirit of action through the length and breadth of this land. And the evidence that this work has begun, is that the slaveholders themselves have become aroused, and they see in letters of “livid light” its doom and destiny, written upon the walls—Mene, Mene, Tekel. And although they are lashing themselves into phrenzy and madness, yet when the storm of passion shall become hushed, and the “second sober thought” prompted by reason and justice comes over them, they will be caught up by the spirit of the age—their moral sensibilities will be awakened, and while the hoary headed fabric is trembling to its base, they will seize its trembling pillars and tear them away, and thus hasten its fall; and when the deed is done, they will look over the ruins with amazement, and wonder how they could “live and breathe” amid those scenes of pollution and death.

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