Chapter 44 - Page 2

premises
shows what might be done if they had the right kind of an agricultural head
to the establishment.

We visited also the venerable Cathedral, and the pretty square in front of it;
the one dim with religious light, the other brilliant with the worldly sort,
and lovely with orange-trees and blossomy shrubs; then we drove in the hot sun
through the wilderness of houses and out on to the wide dead level beyond,
where the villas are, and the water wheels to drain the town, and the commons
populous with cows and children; passing by an old cemetery where we were
told lie the ashes of an early pirate; but we took him on trust, and did
not visit him. He was a pirate with a tremendous and sanguinary history;
and as long as he preserved unspotted, in retirement, the dignity of his
name and the grandeur of his ancient calling, homage and reverence were his
from high and low; but when at last he descended into politics and became
a paltry alderman, the public 'shook' him, and turned aside and wept.
When he died, they set up a monument over him; and little by little he has
come into respect again; but it is respect for the pirate, not the alderman.
To-day the loyal and generous remember only what he was, and charitably forget
what he became.

Thence, we drove a few miles across a swamp, along a raised shell road,
with a canal on one hand and a dense wood on the other; and here and there,
in the distance, a ragged and angular-limbed and moss-bearded cypress,
top standing out, clear cut against the sky, and as quaint of form as the
apple-trees in Japanese pictures--such was our course and the surroundings
of it. There was an occasional alligator swimming comfortably along
in the canal, and an occasional picturesque colored person on the bank,
flinging his statue-rigid reflection upon the still water and watching
for a bite.

And by-and-bye we reached the West End, a collection of hotels of
the usual light summer-resort pattern, with broad verandas all around,
and the waves of the wide and blue Lake Pontchartrain lapping the thresholds.
We had dinner on a ground-veranda over the water--the chief dish the renowned
fish called the pompano, delicious as the less criminal forms of sin.

Thousands of people come by rail and carriage to West End and
to Spanish Fort every evening, and dine, listen to the bands,
take strolls in the open air under the electric lights,
go sailing on the lake, and entertain themselves in various
and sundry other ways.

We had opportunities on other days and in other places to test the pompano.
Notably, at an editorial dinner at one of the clubs in the city.
He was in his last possible perfection there, and justified his fame.
In his suite was a tall pyramid of scarlet