XVI.

Rail-road--A new avenue to commerce--Advantages of the

rail-way--Ride to the lake--The forest--Village at the

lake--Pier--Fishers--Swimmers--Mail-boat--Cafes--Return

--An unfortunate cow--New-Orleans streets.

In a preceding letter, I have alluded to an intended visit to the

rail-way; near which, on my way thither, my last letter left me, in

company with B., after having paid a visit to the Ursuline convent. On

leaving Ursuline-street, which terminates at the river, we proceeded a

short distance, to the rail-road, along the Levee, which was lined with

ships, bearing the flags of nearly all the nations of the earth. The

length of this rail-way is about five miles, terminating at Lake

Pontchartrain. Its advantages to New-Orleans are incalculable. It has

been to the city literally "an avenue of wealth" already. The trade

carried on through this medium, bears no mean proportion to the river

commerce. Ports, heretofore unknown to Orleans, as associated with

traffic, carry on, now, a regular and important branch of trade with

her. By it, a great trade is carried on with Mobile and other places

along the Florida coast, and by the same means, the mails are

transported with safety and rapidity. The country between New-Orleans

and the nearest shore of the lake, is low, flat, marshy, and covered

with a half-drowned and stunted forest. The lake, though near the city,

formerly was inaccessible. Vessels laden with their valuable cargoes

might arrive at the termination of the lake within sight of the city,

but the broad marsh extending between them and the far-off towers of the

wished-for mart, might as well have been the cloud-capped Jura, for any

means of communication it could afford. But the rail-way has overcome

this obstacle: coasting vessels, which traverse the lake in great

numbers, can now receive and discharge their cargoes at the foot of the

rail-way, upon a long pier extending far out into the lake. The

discharged cargoes are piled upon the cars and in twenty minutes are

added to the thousand shiploads, heaped upon the Levee; or, placed upon

drays, are trundling to every part of the city.

When we arrived at the rail-way, the cars for passengers, eight or ten

in number, were standing in a line under a long roof, which covers the

end of the rail-way. A long train of baggage or cargo-cars were in the

rear of these, all heavily laden. The steam-car, puffing and blowing

like a bustling little man in a crowd, seemed impatient to dart forward

upon the track. We perceived that all was ready for a start; and barely

had time to hasten to the ticket-office, throw down our six "bits" for

two tickets, and spring into the only vacant seats in one of the cars,

before the first bell rang out the signal for starting.

All the cars were full; including two or three behind, appropriated to

coloured gentlemen and ladies. Again the bell gave the final signal; and

obedient thereto, our fiery leader moved forward, smoking like a

race-horse, slowly and steadily at first--then, faster and faster, till

we flew along the track with breathless rapidity. The rail-road,

commencing at the Levee, runs for the first half mile through the centre

of a broad street, with low detached houses on either side. A mile from

the Levee we had left the city and all dwellings behind us, and were

flying through the fenceless, uninhabited marshes, where nothing meets

the eye but dwarf trees, rank, luxuriant undergrowth, tall, coarse

grass, and vines, twisting and winding their long, serpentine folds

around the trunks of the trees like huge, loathsome water-snakes. By the

watch, we passed a mile-stone every three minutes and a half; and in

less than nineteen minutes, arrived at the lake. Here, quite a village

of handsome, white-painted hotels, cafes, dwellings, store-houses, and

bathing rooms, burst at once upon our view; running past them, we

gradually lessened our speed, and finally came to a full stop on the

pier, where the rail-road terminates. Here we left the cars, which came

thumping against each other successively, as they stopped; but the

points of contact being padded, prevented any very violent shock to the

occupants. The pier, constructed of piles and firmly planked over, was

lined with sloops and schooners, which were taking in and discharging

cargo, giving quite a bustling, business-like air to this infant port.

Boys, ragged negroes, and gentlemen amateurs, were fishing in great

numbers farther out in the lake; others were engaged in the delicate

amusement of cray-fishing, while on the right the water was alive with

bathers, who, disdaining the confined limits enclosed by the long white

bathing-houses, which stretched along the south side of the pier, and

yielding to the promptings of a watery ambition, were boldly striking

out into the sluggish depths. To the east, the waters of the lake and

sky met, presenting an ocean horizon to the untravelled citizens, who

can have no other conception of the reality without taking a trip to the

Balize. Light craft were skimming its waveless surface, under the

influence of a gentle breeze, in all directions. A steamer, bearing the

United States mail from Mobile, was seen in the distance, rolling out

clouds of black smoke, and ploughing and dashing on her rapid way to the

pier.

Retracing our steps to the head of the pier, we entered a very handsome

_cafe_, or hotel, crowded with men. The eternal dominos were rattling on

every table, glasses were ringing against glasses, and voices were

heard, in high-toned conversation, in all languages, with mingled oaths

and laughter; the noise and confusion were sufficient, without a

miracle, to make a deaf man hear. All these persons, probably, were from

the city, and had come down to the lake to amuse themselves, or kill an

hour. The opposite _cafe_ was equally crowded; while the billiard-rooms

adjoining were filled with spectators and players. Clouds of

tobacco-smoke enveloped the multitude, and the rooms rung with "Sacre

bleu!" "Mon Dieu!" "Diable!" and blunt English oaths of equal force and

import.

The first bell for the return had rung, and the passengers rushed to the

cars, which were soon filled; the signal for starting was given, and the

locomotive again led the van, with as much apparent importance as that

with which the redoubtable and twice immortal Major Downing might be

supposed to precede his gallant "rigiment of down easters." We had

passed two-thirds of the distance when we were alarmed by a sudden and

tremendous shouting from the forward car. The cry was echoed

involuntarily along the whole train, and every head was instantly darted

from the windows. The cause of the alarm was instantly perceptible. Less

than a quarter of a mile ahead, a cow was lying very quietly and

composedly, directly in the track of the flying cars. The shouts of the

frightened passengers on discovering her, either petrified her with

utter fear--for such yellings and whoopings were never heard before on

this side Hades--or did not reach her, for she kept her position with

the most complacent _nonchalance_. The engineer instantly stopped the

locomotive, but though our momentum was diminished, it was too late to

effect his object; in thirty seconds from the first discovery of the

cow, the engine passed over the now terrified animal, with a

jump--jump--and a grinding crash, and with so violent a shock as nearly

to throw the car from the track; the next, and the next car

followed--and the poor animal, the next instant, was left far behind, so

completely severed, that the rear cars passed over her without any

perceptible shock.

In a few minutes afterward, we arrived at the city, having been one

minute longer in returning than in going to the lake. The rail-way has

become, if not a very fashionable, at least a very general resort, for a

great portion of the inhabitants of New-Orleans, particularly on

Sabbaths and holydays. Lake Pontchartrain, the destination of all who

visit the rail road for an excursion of pleasure, is, to New-Orleans,

what Gray's Ferry was in the olden time to the good citizens of

Philadelphia; or Jamaica pond is, at present, to the most worthy

citizens of the emporium of notions; or what "Broad's" is to the gay

citizens of Portland.[7] When we alighted from the car, the omnibus was

at its stand at the head of the rail-way; so, jumping into it, with

twenty others, the horn was blown with an emphasis, the whip was cracked

with a series of inimitable flourishes, and in fifteen minutes after

leaving the car, we were safely deposited near our hotel. If our jolting

ride home, through the rough, deep-guttered streets, did not increase

our appetite for the good things awaiting us at the _table d'hote_, it

at least demonstrated to us the superiority of rail-ways over unpaved

streets, which every now and then are intersected, for the sake of

variety, with a gutter of no particular width, and a foot and a half

deep, more or less, by the "lead."