The following extract from a manuscript by J. K. Paulding, entitled the Mississippi, will not be without interest. The entire manuscript is on quarto paper in a clear hand, and contains twenty-eight pages. He gives his impression of the journey from New Orleans to Cairo. His preface is as follows:

"Wishing to renew the impressions derived from a voyage of eight or ten days up this mighty river, and if possible convey them to the minds of others, I have endeavored to do so in the following sketch, premising that my design is limited to its general characteristics, not to minute description, and that having taken no notes, I depend altogether on my recollections.

I arrived at New Orleans from the pleasant little city of Mobile, by way of Lake Pontchartrain, one morning just at daylight, in the month of April, and immediately after depositing my trunk in the Hotel St. Louis proceeded to pay my respects to Father Mississippi. The first thing that struck me was seeing the water in the gutters running briskly from, instead of towards the river, agreeably to the invariable law of nature elsewhere; the next was finding myself walking up hill, instead of down, in approaching its margin. As I reached the summit, however, the sudden view of the river drove all these peculiarities from my mind at once. The current was sweeping away-along on one vast mass of boiling eddies which seemed conflicting with each other which should go foremost, its surface almost on a level with its bank, and overlooking the streets beneath. The opposite coast was one dead level, bounded by the distant forest, and the horizon beyond it, and the river reminded me of a fierce bumper which a single drop would overflow. These low level banks contribute to the apparent magnitude of the stream, by offering no interruption to the eye, as it glances over the wide expanse of turbid waters, which are of an ashy hue, and so opaque that one cannot see an inch

beyond their surface, thus leaving it to the imagination alone to fathom the deep obscurity. Altogether, though, I had all my life been in the habit of contemplating the beautiful majestic Hudson, which in many places is wider than the Mississippi at New Orleans, the impression made on my mind by this remarkable river was much more deep and profound. The truth is, my imagination was dwelling on its almost interminable course, its numberless tributaries, and its sublime unique characteristic of entire independence on the ocean, whose tribute it rejects and whose inroads it laughs to scorn.

Although my object is not to describe cities, yet New Orleans well deserves a passing notice.

It lies on the bend of the river, and its poetic name is "The Crescent City." The first settlement of the French, the ancient limits of Louisiana, was at Mobile, now the principal commercial city of the State of Alabama. From thence they proceeded to the mouth of the Mississippi, and began to establish themselves at Biloxi, of which they soon became aware of the disadvantages. Ascending the river, they pitched on the site of New Orleans, the place of which was marked out by M. de Bienville, I think about the year 1718.

The progress of time more than a hundred years has more than realized the anticipations of the good Father. New Orleans is not only an "opulent city," but the capital of a rich and independent State, equal in population to some of the great cities of France that have existed for centuries, and if the past be any indication of the future, will, in one hundred years more, almost rival even Paris in magnitude. But such things have ceased to be wonders of this country; they present themselves to the traveler at every step and here become so common that they hardly excite surprise. There is no region on earth where men have witnessed such changes in the course of a single life. In the old world all is either stationary or decaying; in the new the looking glass of the world like a magic lantern is continually presenting,

what would seem the most monstrous exaggerations, were they not stamped with reality by the testimony of truth and experience. We are some time jeered for our sanguine anticipations; but are they not fully justified by the past? Happy is that people whose guide is the highest star of Hope; whose Heaven is in the future yet to come, not in the past which is gone forever.

Having received my impressions of New Orleans from the race of Samelfungus Travellers of the John Bull School, who go about as it were like every lion, seeking who they may devour, and who libel a nation for a bad bed or a bad dinner, I was agreeably surprised at finding it one of the most orderly, decorous cities in the world. I was under the serious apprehension of being robbed at noonday, knocked on the head at night, or at least being obliged to fight a duel with some ferocious dandy with tremendous whiskers. But all these fears vanished in a few days, during which I neither saw a drunken man, a fight, an assassination or a mob; and I came to the conclusion that at best an honest, well disposed, peaceable man might stand a good chance of living there, as long as any where else, provided he kept clear of the yellow fever, which, after all, does not carry off so many people as consumption in the North. Though so early in the Spring it was the season of flowers and bouquets which are made up here in a style superior to any I have ever seen, and are displayed in shops, markets and every where. Flora seemed the presiding goddess, and the Creole ladies are her attendant nymphs. I should be sorry if this pleasant city were ever drowned, as does not seem altogether improbable, since it is deluged by every Summer shower; menaced by the Mississippi which peeps over its banks at it rather suspiciously; and the ground on which it is presumed to stand, is more than half water. Standing one day on the levee, I perceived the water of the river slily insinuating itself through a little opening and beginning to slide down towards the city below. On pointing this out to a capital specimen of half-horse, half-alliga

tor who was sitting on the roof of a broad horn, and expressing my apprehensions, he rolled his quid about the deep profundity within and replied with a significant jeer— "Don't make yourself uneasy, stranger, folks born to be hanged, need never be afraid of drowning."

James K. Paulding was born in the State of New York in 1778, of Dutch descent. He was intimate with all of the literary men of his period, specially with Washington Irving. Began his literary career by contributing to the "Morning Chronicle." In 1817 he published "Letters from the South by a Northern Man," containing accurate description of Virginia and its people. Between 1818 and 1823 he became Secretary of the Navy, and after his retirement made a trip with the President, Van Buren, which places the date of these notes at about 1842. He died in 1860.

ISIANA.

(By Joseph A. Breaux.)

Long before the College of Orleans was chartered, the need of an institution for the education of the youth of Louisiana was recognized. The Lemoyne brothers were always zealous adherents of the cause of the French colonies. The names of Bienville and Iberville of that family are inseparably connected with the history of the colonies under French domination. Bienville had already been informed of his recall, and notified that another was on his way to succeed him; but he was not the less interested in all that related to Louisiana. Appreciating the great necessity for schools to educate the children of the colonies, he wrotes to his home government on the subject, and sought influences on behalf of such schools, but met only with disappointment. The colonies themselves were not very much interested. Those who had means sent their children to school abroad. This is not always an advisable step, since frequently those educated in distant colleges return without being very much concerned about their home surroundings and their community.

Louisiana in any field, it seems to me, is interesting. I must confess that, when the suggestion was made to me, I knew precious little of the College of Orleans. But I felt some curiosity to become more familiar with the subject, particularly when I learned that Charles Gayarre was one of the students of the school, and one of its graduates, and that it was the only college that he had attended. Mr. Gayarre has written some things about the College of Orleans, but he does not mention the fact that he was ever one of its students.*

As the college went out of existence

* He does so under the pseudonym of Fernando de Lemos-in his work of that name-which contains the only published description of the old College of Orleans. He also took pleasure in recalling the fact, in conversation, that he was a student in the old college.Grace King.