54 
the right side of the bayou* The woods were hanging full of 
the hateful Spanish moss, and a number of palmettoes were the 
only variety afforded. The causeway was very muddy; there 
were good wooden bridges over little ditches, which conveyed 
the water from the surrounding marshes into the bayou. 
After we had proceeded three miles in this manner, we came 
into a cultivated district, passed a sort of gate, and found our¬ 
selves quite in another world. Plantations, with handsome 
buildings, followed in quick succession; noble live oaks, which 
had been trimmed to regular shapes, young orange trees, pride 
of China, and other tropical trees and bushes, along the road. 
Several inns and public gardens were exhibited, for a population 
that willingly seeks amusement. We noticed several mansion- 
houses, ornamented with columns, piazzas, and covered galle¬ 
ries ; some of these were of ancient style in building. It was 
naturally agreeable to me, after wandering a long time in mere 
wildernesses, once more to come into a long civilized country. 
We saw from afar, the white spires of the cathedral of New Or¬ 
leans, also the masts of the ships lying in the Mississippi. The 
bayou unites itself, three miles from this city, with a canal lead¬ 
ing thither, which we passed upon a turning bridge, to strike into 
the city by a nearer way. 
This road carried us between well-built mansions, and over 
the streets were hung reflecting lamps. The first view of the city, 
as we reached, without knowing it, was really not handsome; 
for we came into the oldest section, which consisted only of 
little one-story houses, with mud walls, and wide projecting 
roofs. On the whole, the streets are regularly laid out, part 
parallel with the river, the rest perpendicular to it. The ancient 
town was surrounded by a wall, which is destroyed, in its room 
there is a boulevard laid out, called Rue de Remparts. Next to 
the old town below, lies the suburb Marigny, and above, that of 
St. Mary; then begins the most elegant part of the city. 
Before we searched for lodgings, we looked about a little 
through the city, and went first to the Mississippi, to pay our 
homage to this “ father of rivers.” It is about half a mile wide, 
and must be above eighty fathoms deep ; it is separated from the 
city by a compost of muscle shells. This causeway defends it 
from inundations. There are no wharves, they cannot be fixed, 
as the river would sweep them away. The ships lay four and 
five deep, in tiers along the bank, as in the Thames, at London. 
Below them, were ten very large steam-boats, employed in the 
river trade. In a line with the bank stood houses, which were 
two or three stories high, and built of brick, also ancient massive 
Spanish houses, known by their heavy, solid style, and mostly 
white* We passed by a square, of which the river formed one 
