130 THE MARKET, NEW ORLEANS. [CHAP. XXVIII. 



bank of the Mississippi filled with mist as dense as a 

 London fog, but of a pure white instead of yellow 

 colour. Through this atmosphere the innumerable 

 masts of the ships alongside the wharf, were dimly 

 seen. Among other fruits in the market we ob 

 served abundance of bananas, and good pine -apples, 

 for 25 cents (or a shilling) each, from the West In 

 dies. There were stalls where hot coffee was selling 

 in white china cups, reminding us of Paris. Among 

 other articles exposed for sale, were brooms made of 

 palmetto leaves, and waggon-loads of the dried Span 

 ish moss, or Tillandsia. The quantity of this plant 

 hanging from the trees in the swamps surrounding 

 New Orleans, and everywhere in the delta of the 

 Mississippi, might suffice to stuff all the mattrasses 

 in the world. The Indians formerly used it for ano 

 ther purpose to give porosity or lightness to their 

 building materials. When at Natchez, Dr. Dicke- 

 son showed me some bricks dug out of an old 

 Indian mound, in which the tough woody fibre of 

 the Tillandsia was still preserved. When passing 

 through the stalls, we were surrounded by a popu 

 lation of negroes, mulattos, and quadroons, some 

 talking French, others a patois of Spanish and 

 French, others a mixture of French and English, or 

 English translated from French, and with the French 

 accent. They seemed very merry, especially those 

 who were jet black. Some of the Creoles also, both 

 of French and Spanish extraction, like many natives 

 of the south of Europe, were very dark. 



Amidst this motley group, sprung from so many 

 races, we encountered a young man and woman, arm- 



