New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1871-07-30
THE FIRST TRAIN THROUGH"
Impressions of a Passenger on the JacA'
snn RaiIrOad.

Rome do as the Romans do, who can always
extract a grain of comfort from every ui'
heartening and discouraging event. the
| jackson Railroad travellers had IT'S 1uii cohi-
| plement. They delighted in the Vip across
| to Manchac, which the company were
Obliged 70 make. were quite contented at
| the unavoidable delays and expressed them
| selves satisfied.
Rut If must be said that when the news
| came that the first train would actually go
through ION last Monday, they felt de-
cidedly better as the accommodation trav-
elers delight to get into the city Monday
morning at eleven, instead of the after
noon at two, the morning hours being
the biggest part of the day. Day was
breaking at our station when, having made
hasty but hearty breakfast, the traveller
finds himself on the platform, where a scant
few are already awaiting, in American i'm
patience, for the iron horses whose single eye
is usually put out in front Of this landing, as
it arrives just as the suns rays Segln to
shine aslant the hills.
You are in such a fever of Impotence
that no newspaper will content you, and in
vain strive to gather crumbs OF consolation
from one Just three days old, which the sta
ton master has given you as late paper.
Minutes seem hours, but when the whistle
is heard all uneasiness melts away.
And now comes" as the professional
gentlemen say, "the train bound South as
the railway men say, on which, after the
usual spasm of bell-ringing and pulling,
you get in and you are ''all aboard for New
Orleans. This is the first train through"
fellow traveller informs you, in a way which
seems to imply you are under the greatest
obligations to him for the information, and
you, who have heard the same information
a thousand times before, think he is under
obligations for not letting him be wiser On
the train goes the passengers having more
lively appearance than the usual Monday
morning corners, every one being full OF the
news that this is the first train through. SO
often is this repeated, so many times are
you enlightened in this respect, that the
shock of the wheels, as they rell rapidly,
seem to say in the clicky-te-click, clicky-te-
through" AS the train nears Manchac and,
switching off, reveals the new sheds and
wharves recently built, there is great I'M
easiness among the passengers unless this
may not after all, be the first train through.
The freight's knocked us clean out O.
time"
This is the reply of a brakeman whose
shirt and face were once white, but now
are any other than that color. So the pas
sengers all get out, and there is crowd
of dusty men in all sorts of dress, with
tickets inserted in all sorts of hats, upon
the landing, striving how they can best pass
an hour, which has been knocked OUT of
the time in the most comfortable way.
There are merchants coming back to city
business, feeling sure there will be no vel.
low fever. Country storekeepers coming in
for necessary supplies and provisions; drum
mers from Northern houses from whom, the
conductor tells you, the road is never clear;
waytarers, who stop at the next station;
section-men, who are going to work; city
people going back, having spent Saturday
and Sunday night out of town. and all are
as impatient, as uneasy, as despairing about
getting ahead. as furious to be showing
along as an American crowd always and I'M
der any circumstances is sure to be. A
whistle is heard, and there is a hurry and
scramble into the cars as if each were escap
ing from imminent destruction behind. A
few ''short stops" little more backing and
sliding, pulling and hauling, some more
bell-ringing and the first train through
slowly moves over the "draw' south bound
for the city. Passing through one of the
Pullman palace cars, furnished like the
drawing-room of a hotel, and sitting down
on the platform at the last end, one has a
chance to see 'both sides of the question:
that is, look on both sides of the track at
once.
The first impression is one of surprise.
AS the track seems to run in current of
cross-ties out behind, appears to speed away
in a straight and often curved line, every
one looking on catches himself asking where
are the effects of the humiliation, and the
knowing ones answer, "Wait until we get
to Des Air." where Louisiana bayou
wends its way straight across the track
few miles further in. On goes the stream
of cross ties bound on either side by the
rails like the banks of a stream. The same
unbroken scenery, the same cypress trees
with moss hanging from the imbs--the
same forest of palmetto, whose uninter-
rupted succession makes you yawn and
e
poor devil mules must have which goes the
eternal round of circle. Here the road
bed certainly has not been touched by the
inundation for some time. Grass grows
fresh upon it as if it never had been at the
bottom of a sheet of water. Alligators still
lie in the stagnant pools, or crawl lazily
away from the train that thunders by, as if
the present "dryness" in their market was
after all only temporary, and the Missis-
sippi would still find its way "across lots"
to the lake.
The track is still covered with grass, and
only after the train has rung the bell
through Des Air are the ravages of the
flood to be discerned. Here we pass by a
raft Of huge cypress timber, washed conve
n;ently by the side of the track There,
blackened fields moist with the Mississippi
sediment, are rolled by in breath. Then
line of fence, once constructed and kept
in the greatest care. is seen battered down
by the storm of waters. Then starnant
and Shiny pools are observed, in which the
water has long ago lost its purity. Here
the long, dank grass is seen fattened out
just as the final rush of waters has left it.
Soon the train roes on slowly. as if treadipo