The New Orleans bulletin. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1874-1876, 1875-08-22
A FIGURE OF THE PAST.
A Stroll in the Second District.

| Inc unkle OF the bell attached to the car
mule seemed almost impressive, SO quiet and
silent was the demure neighborhood of Bour-
bon street, near Barracks. It's quite q small
journey down there from Canal street, and to
the denizens of the central districts there is
seldom any occasion for a trip thither, but
once in a while newsmonger ventures
down, and is always rewarded by view of
old-time people and oldtime things.
solitary rooster ,trutted about in the mid.
die of the street enjoying the afternoons sun.
shine, and in seeming contemplation of the
happy fact that the savory gombo in process
of preparation at an old lady's near by was
not improved by the nutritive properties of
his own tender flesh. The air was redolent
OF cooking. 1t seemed as if though some
Soyer had established his headquarters there
abouts, and whole Crimean army was ex-
pected to drop in to dinner.
The bell of the Cathedral would now and
then interrupt the lazy quiet by little dots of
its sonorous music as it rung out the hours,
and as its echoes foated away, the distant cry
of some marchand would catch the ear, and
vision of "bon gateaua" would instinctively
rise in the vision. 1t had small show
window, but it could hardly be said that
there was anything peculiarly attractive on
show.
1t is true there was wealth of horn but
tons, and q lavish extravaganza in mild tape
and retiring shoe strings, but as an exhibition
that window would hardly be considered fit
for exhibition at the Centennial.
Two cakes of very unobtrusive soap occu-
pied the conspicuous central position, fanked
by two very decrepid papers of hair pins and
gave to the whole the appearance of respect
able age if not antiquity.
Now and again a smooth, very smooth head
would pop in and out of the window, and
face, Notwithstanding wrinkles and crows
feet, somewhat classical, would light up with
almost childish vivacity, as it recognized
some object desired by customer.
This was the individual we were in search
of. A character as peculiar and quaint as
even the wiry Jay Gould or Cornelius Van.
de1bilt.
The shop was what would be called some
what shabby. The dust of last summer rested
in blissful kinsmanship to that of fifty of lis
brothers on the box covers, and sedate old
reaches almost contested the right of way
with visitor.
A small squeaking voice out of the darkness
requested US to be seated, and small cloud
of perique tobacco smoke was waited to us.
The old man had evidently penchant for his
pipe, because the double distilled nicotine
effluvia could only come from venerable one,
it smacked SO strongly of the very weed itself.
"Oh, my very good sir, said the man of
think, for any interest to be taken in it. OIL
course you know there are old people living
yet who laugh at it and me, but it was one Of
my ventures, aud every man thinks whatever
concerns himself to be of importance to every
body else. 1t was in the days before percus-
sion caps were known, and We had to use
flints. There was great deal of hunting in
New Orleans then, and the Indians all had
their fjnt-locks, and kept our markets we'll
supplied with game.
was always of q speculative turn of mind |
my dear sir, and it occurred to me one day
that could turn an honest penny by corner
ing, as you would call it to-day, the flint mar
ket. We used to get all our fints from up
river on fiat boats, and they sold for ten cents
apiece. Very few kept them, and the demand
was quite brisk l went out one day, and
through Royal, Chartres and Dauphine streets
strolled, buying up every gun-fint could
find. 1t took about eighty-fve dollars to get
the whole stock in town, but took it all.
"Those three barrels you see over there
hold them still Iput the price up to twenty
cents, and was selling few, when along came
q Cincinnati fellow with guns and percussion
caps, and bless my soul sir, haven't sold
those fints yet. It bursted me up, sir. 1t
upset me, and since that time
only get on in gentle way and turn my at
tention in the tape line. There's no question,
sir. if had succeeded in the flint speculation
I'd been a Vanderbilt; no question, sir, not
bit of it,
And here this prototype of Owens's Caleb
in a sort of absent minded way
ran his hand in amongst his gun fints and
grieved because he hadn't hit the market and |
sold his stock off at Twenty cents apiece,
sir"