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.