The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1890-04-04

wreath on the 6euefalo neaQ. aItel
which high mass was celebrated IN
gratitude for the victory. This Cathe.
dral, as it now stands, lie practically
the gift Of certain Don Andres AL
monaster, pious and wealthy Span
lard, who stipulated as the only return
for his munificence, that mass fol
the repose of his soul should be read
every Saturday evening. Mr.. AL.
monaster died in 1898, but we are told
that the Saturday evening mass l.
solemnly and regularly celebrated.
even unto this day. Surely his soul
should rest In peace.
-.
Speaking of this funeral subject sug.
gests the remark that the visitor to
New Orleans will fall short of his du.
ty as a sight-seer If he fails to visit the
cemeteries of the city. There are q
great many Of these, Of course, located
at various places, but the largest and
most modern ones are called the
Mesairie Cemeteries and are located on
a slight natural elevation just at the
western extremity Of the city. Owing
to the fact that the earth 10 so thor.
oughly saturated with water al ways,
no Intern ents are made under ground
So that instead of the low mounds We
are accustomed to see incur own grave
yards there are long rows of beautiful
tombs, nearly all Of marble. and Of in.
finite architectural variety.l Here
and there are family vaults, 90 large
as to suggest house for the ivihe
rather than an abode for the dead
while at frequent intervals there are
stately monuments reared to perpetu.
the memory Of heroes, on one side OF
the other of the Civil War. On one
side of the road 10 a monument to the
Confederate dead. On the other side
an equally imposing one to the Union
dead. Albert Sidney Johnston is
buried here in vault that shelters
scores of his comrades. And there is q
column to the memory Of
Stonewall jackson, The ground about
these "mossy marbles" is covered
with . velvetv carpet of the greenest
grass aud shaded by the graceful
branches Of wide. spreading cypress
and live oaks and magnolias, while
the air is filled with music from troops
of hooking birds. What Is tn at old
song with the line IN 1t about "The
hooking bird still singing DER her
grave?" When 1 used to hear Ii,
it did not occur to me but that it might
just as we'll have been the blue bird or
the thrush or any other feathered
songster. But since visiting the GENE.
teries in the South ] can see that it
could not have been any other than
the mocking bird. for he seems to have
q special fondness for tombs and Is al
ways singing over somebody's grave.
The combination of all these things,
the bird songs, the graceful trees, the
beds of flowers, the grassy carpet, the
massive marbles, leaves an impression
on the memory of the visitor to the
Metairie Cemeteries as a pleasant pic
ture that time will be slow to efface.
-.
Continuing the journey westward
from the cemeteries on the dummy
line which runs out from the city, you
find narrow canal on your left hand
and an impenetra BILE pa lmetto swamp
on your right, until three miles or 30
are passed and you sdddenlyfind your
self looking out over the blue waters
of Lake Ponchartrain. The little man.
ufactured island on which the train
stops is called West End and is a popu-
lar health and pleasure resort. There
is a big summer hotel, a band stand,
two or three boat houses, and pleasant
walks bordered by tropical ehrubbery
and leading past beds of bright flowers
and into and through attractive and
curious little grottoes. Surely charm.
ing place to loaf away summer even
ing. The lake is q lake and not q
swamp as I had a sort of an idea it
was. The water comes in from the
gulf and is brackish, but not nearly 30
salt as ocean water, and is clear and
pure. Deep enough too to float heavy
vessels. 1t is well stocked with fish,
and if your travelling companion hap
pens to be a crank on that line of sport
as mine was-and you feel it your
duty to stay by him-as I did-you are
very apt to hire boat and some tackle
and try your luek-as we did. 1t was
q blustry day. The white caps were
flying and the long waves pounding
against the shore in q waythat was far
from reassuring to q man whose
nautical experience had not gone far
beyond navigating a saw log on the
placid bosom of a Kansas "crick." But
We managed somehow to get out a
mile or 30, where we cast anchor in
sixteen feet Of water, baited our hooks
and-waIted for bite. We kept this
up with great zeal and activity for
about three hours then weighed
anchor Il believe that is what they
call it and pulled for the shore, pleas
ed in our minds because we could say
we had fished in Lake Ponchartrain,
and easy in or conciences because We
had done no living thing any hurt