the seven bells of the metropolitan edifice were summoning the faithful to their prayers. In all the streets abound cafés; and barrooms, it would be unjust to call them grogshops, were open and in the receipt of a full and noisy custom. Rum and gin, Monongahela, and Tom and Jerry here live in palaces; and the genius of Intemperance driven from many of her dirty altars in the streets, alleys and cul de sacs of the Northern Cities may well console herself with the taste, elegance and refinement of her shrines in New Orleans. The drinking room is large, the ceiling high, a handsome lamp or chandelier hangs from the midst, a whole army of bottles with contents of all colors line the shelves in close array all around, and the counter with its marble slab or mahogany board decked off with shining brass work and full decanters, completes an arrangement for beastly gratification, such as is reserved for New Orleans, to an unequalled extent. But what is this in the public square? Soldiers in a gay and tasteful uniform are passing to and fro, and sundry thumps upon a bass drum speak martially to the ear. "Oh, nothing at all, Sir." "The weather is fine, and a volunteer company is going to church, I suppose. "Nothing less true, they are going to have a parade, which will end in taking refreshments at the Café Des Citoyens there at the corner. 'Ah, well, that is all, is it? A pleasant time I wish them." "Allons! what next, you need not look with such astonishment." Nothing is more common than the billard tables which are in constant use today, and that shoemaker there whom you see in his shop stretching his arms so vigorously over his last is doing what all around him are doing-working on the Sabbath. Even will not the shoemakers be idle, an industrious people like this. St. Crispin's servants ought to keep quiet for one day in the seven at all events. Faith, these performances, though

brandy may be drunk, and bons bons sold or bargains made, or soldiers drilled, make something of the picturesque. Ha, what's that fine figure, a beautiful foot, an ankle like an angel, an air quite distingué, and all so strange and characteristic, so Spanish, with a long black veil over her head. "Allons! we will pass her, she is a mulatto." "Not at all, don't let her hear you, that is a quadroon." "A quadroon! Well, I'll know better next time. And are those quadroons on high there on the balcony that projects from that Spanish looking house with ornamental cornice and window frames and flat roof? One of them has a veil, and all that I see are darker than her we have just passed." "Heavens, no! They are creoles, native white, Spanish and French mixed, born in the country, very good society. No, indeed, they are not quadroon, you must make the distinction." "Faith, so I see, and here are more balconies, and more females, and there sits a solitary cigar smoker on a balcony by himself, and in another, look up at it, two old ladies. Quadroons?" "No, they are mulattoes." Well, be it so, the two old mulattoes are smoking cigars, under that pent house that projects from the edge of the tiles.

The City of New Orleans to the north of Canal Street. In the City there are whole squares filled with houses built during the time of the French and Spaniards— low browed dwellings, looking as if partly intended for defense, with entrances through courts. You want no guide to tell you that they are not American or English. They give a character to the quarter in which they are that cannot be mistaken. They abound in the picturesque, and were I to remain a long time here, nothing would give me more pleasure than to take views down many of the streets that I passed through today. The doors that I passed by were generally occupied by the female part of the inmates, and

they were, in most cases, quadroons, or French of the inferior class, for the fashion of this quarter of New Orleans by no means corresponded with its picturesque appearance. We went to the Catholic burying ground. The tombs here are peculiar to the place. No grave could be dug of the usual depth without coming to water, and to obviate this difficulty in the sepulchre of the dead, the coffin is laid upon the surface of the ground, and a strong structure of brick built around it. This is then plastered and whitewashed. In some there are several bodies, and in others only one. On one side of the yard there is a range of catacombs, like the cells of a honey comb, in which the coffin is placed, and the mouth closed with a stone containing an inscription. I was informed that these cells were purchased for various lengths of time varying from 1 to 10 years, and some were owned in perpetuity. When the lease expired, the tenant, or what remained of him was removed, when the feelings of the relatives could not be shocked by the idea of his being burned instead of buried. The bones or remains are then piled together and burned. As Col. Hamilton says, all the people here are burned, and then the premises are ready for a new tenant. One of the cells was opened this evening.

"We passed the French theatre, a large and extensive range of buildings, containing also the City Assembly Room. At the further extremity is the home in which the quadroon balls are held, and the tickets to both being the same price, the holder of a ticket to the white ball, when tired, goes out, and exchanges with someone who has been among the ladies of the mixed blood and who gives his ticket to get into the crowd where the taint is moral, not physical.

"From the theatre we went to the French coffee house,