gave. The last bush, probably, may still be found in the vacant half-square at Prytania and Leontine Streets, adjoining the Flaspoller residence.

The old line of double-decker horse cars ran out Jackson Avenue over the same course as the trolleys of to-day, stopping on Baronne at Canal Street. These cars were divided into compartments, with seats arranged crosswise and facing each other, with a long step on each side, the entire length of the car, enabling the conductor to pass back and forth to collect his fares. At the end of the car was a narrow stairway leading to the top, and there, running lengthwise along the center, was a double row of seats with one common back. While the compartments below were provided for the accommodation respectively of ladies, and of white and of colored patrons, upstairs was for whites, and, generally from the very nature of things, used only by men. And a jolly ride it was in the cool of a summer evening.

The Westfeldt residence, on Prytania Street, was built by an old-time citizen, Mr. Toby; and he must have been a patron of this line of cars, for he caused to be erected, as a protection against inclement weather, a shed, or little station, at the corner of Jackson and Prytania, where the drug store now stands. The spot soon became familiarly known as Toby's corner, and the name clung to it for some little while.

What a fine old set some of the earlier city fathers must have been, as witness the naming of the streets. The nine muses still remain in Calliope, Clio, Erato, Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Euterpe, Polymnia and Urania, while the Dryades still keep them company; but the Nayades have vanished, and even graceful Apollo and jolly Bacchus no longer adorn their respective street corners, but have given way to Carondelet and Baronne from Triton Walk (Howard Avenue) up.

In these days of rapid transit, as exemplified by the electric car, we are apt to forget of what recent date the system is, and the earlier methods of transportation fade from our memories like a dream of the night. And yet not very many years back the laying of the rails for the mule cars, while furthered by some, was by others regarded as a disturbing element, for they argued that the streets would be disfigured, if not even rendered useless for other traffic. At that time, and it does not require the hunting up of any over-elderly resident to tell of it, the old lumbering

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omnibus, drawn by two horses, the entrance at the rear, the driver perched on top at the front with a little opening by his seat through which the fare was paid, and a long leather strap passing from his foot to the door, by means of which it was closed after the entrance or departure of a passenger, and by pulling which the desire for a stop was conveyed, did duty in hauling the business man to and from his store, or some lady bent on her shopping quest.

Nor did these 'busses run over as smooth a bed as our present asphalted streets allow, for then the paving was all done with that abomination of cobblestone, which the many sailing vessels then frequenting the port would bring over as ballast for want of freight. To any one not an actual participant in the delights of such a jolting ride, imagination will have to lend its aid; and yet there were dyspeptics even then. Canal Street was, as now, the dividing line between up and down town, and to and from this common point the vehicles wended their way for the convenience of their patrons from the upper or lower districts. The routes were mainly over the same streets as are now used by the cars, though not in as great number and by no means extending such distances.

The Tchoupitoulas 'bus went as far as the old stock landing at the foot of Louisiana Avenue; the Magazine line went up to the old barn at Pleasant Street; the stables for the Prytania route being at Urania Streets, woods side, now adorned by a stately residence, while the Pontchartrain depot and points further back were the termini of the downtown lines.

Nor was Canal Street then the great thoroughfare it now is for the feminine portion of the population. Chartres Street was the site for the leading modistes and retail dry goods establishments, and at that period was the Mecca of the fashionable set in their search for bonnets and ribbons and laces and all the finery that women so love to buy and men so like to see them wear. Mme. Olympe, whose reputation as modiste extended far beyond the limits of the city, had her establishment at the corner of Customhouse, now known as Iberville Street; but later followed the exodus up to Canal Street, the pioneers in which move were at the time regarded as undertaking a most dangerous experiment. There were Holmes, and Barriere, and Haggerty, and Giquel, and Jamison, Holmes being probably the first to

change quarters, the others following from time to time. And yet in comparatively few years the change has been so complete that we are prone to regard Canal as always having been fashion's great resort.

Where the Rathskeller is now was formerly a theatrical point, having been occupied by the Audubon Theatre, which was before that time the Academy of Music; but the stage in earlier years was so arranged as to be easily converted into a sawdust ring for circus performances; and there many of our people, still boasting of youthful appearance, were wont to go into raptures over the trick horses and funny clowns. Through an alleyway, extending back into Camp Street, the horses were brought into the ring, and many a citizen of to-day has doubtless stood at the entrance in boyish admiration of the well-trained steeds.

Before the electric system was adopted, gas was the medium for lighting the city; and before that, still not so very long ago, the lamps were fed with oil, and not the coal-oil of to-day either. How the youngsters would watch with glee for the coming of the lamplighter, with his little ladder to mount to the lamp, his rags to clean the protecting glass, and his matches to complete the work. Viewed from our present surroundings the methods of those days seem primitive, but they were good old days for all that.

The site now occupied by Soulé's College was not so very long back a police station, or calaboose, as was the familiar term then, and in it have been confined over night all manner of disorderly persons, including many notable criminals. The Recorder's Court for that district held its sessions there and disposed of the various offenders that were brought before the bar.

Lafayette Square, which in earlier years was devoid of any statuary, was surrounded, as indeed were all similar parks in the city, by a tall iron railing. Here the military were accustomed to assemble on any great holiday requiring the parade of the militia, and the gathering was always a brilliant one. The old Washington Artillery, whose quarters were then in Girod Street, midway between St. Charles and Carondelet, would have its cannon in the square to boom forth the necessary salutes. Residents in the neighborhood had to take great care to have their windows open, or else suffer the consequences in broken panes of glass. There were some very fine military companies in

those days, and the occasions of their out-turn drew admiring throngs of both sexes.

On this square, near where the McDonogh bust now stands, was sunk an artesian well; but the flow was not what had been anticipated, and the original purpose of it was necessarily abandoned. But for quite a while it was allowed to remain open, its slowly flowing waters gradually becoming considered by the populace as possessing some great medicinal power. The result was that many gathered there at all hours to drink, or bringing the necessary utensils, from glass pitcher to any old empty can, would carry off a supply of water to their homes. The craze lasted for quite a while and then quietly died out.

Canal Street, as may be readily inferred from its name, was the location of an open drain along the neutral ground. This was gradually filled up, but for a long while from Claiborne back the unsightly canal was covered by planks, and this protection afforded the roadbed for the car tracks. The neighborhood along this portion remained but sparsely settled until of recent years, and where now are many handsome residences, was at that period. very little better than a quagmire. The original intention, or perhaps hope would be the better word, of our then city fathers, was to have statues at various intersections of Canal Street, and the former location of Clay Statue at Royal Street, since removed to Lafayette Square, shows the preparation for such a scheme. What a beautiful thoroughfare would have been the result, unequaled perhaps anywhere in the Union; but misfortunes overtook the city, as they did the individual resident, as a result of the great Civil War, and such schemes of beautification proved only idle dreams. Later on the practical age developed, and in lieu of ornamentation we have to-day the centralization of a grand street car system that excites the wonder of the stranger with us.

Christ Church, now one of the beauty spots of the upper district, stood formerly at the corner of Canal and Dauphine, where the Maison Blanche is now located. Men and women of to-day were there baptized, confirmed and married; and yet there are doubtless many who know it only as a dry goods mart. About 1840 Christ Church was at the corner of Canal and Bourbon, and next thereto was the residence of Judah Touro, while other homes were strung along the block. The workshops of

Nicholas Sinnott, the first builder of note in New Orleans, were in earlier years at the Fellman corner, the present building on which was originally erected for the Pickwick Club.

Where stand now the Tulane and Crescent Theatres, with the stores in front, were formerly the buildings of the old University of Louisiana, three in number, the academic, at the corner of Baronne, the Law School at Dryades, later-called University Place, and the Medical School in the center; but with the founding of Tulane University these in time disappeared. On the rear side of the theatres, facing University Place, formerly stood Tulane Hall, known originally as the Mechanics and Agricultural Fair Association building. Its name signifies the purpose of the organization. Converted just after the war into a State House, it was the scene of one of the bloodiest riots that ever burst forth in this city. Later on it was the arsenal of the Louisiana Field Artillery, but has now disappeared in the erection of the Grunewald Hotel annex.

Our magnificent postoffice indicates the growth of the city, for just below where the Sazerac saloon now stands, running through from Royal to Exchange Alley, was at one time the location of the postoffice, with the United States Court on the floor above, later to be moved into capacious quarters in the Custom House, and then for want of room, transferred to its own grand building fronting Lafayette Square.

The steamboat trade, such as one knew a generation or more ago, has passed out of view; and while our wharves now are lined with many steamships, the older ones of us must miss the vast number of sailing vessels, from brigatines to full-rigged ships, that formerly discharged and took on cargo at the riverside three, four and five abreast. They were there from the lower limits to the upper, except at that portion always reserved for the immense river traffic proper; and they gave an appearance, if indeed it was not an actual reality, of vast trade. Nor must one overlook the great flatboat business, which was a feature in itself. Quantities of produce from the great upper States were thus floated down stream, the owners disposing of their boats here, which were broken up and the timber used in various ways. Some of the best constructed frame buildings of the city owe their origin to this custom, and their excellent state of preservation attests the wisdom of the period.