Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1893-10-27
A TRAGIC STORY WHICH READS
LIKE FICTION.

Was Swept Out of Existence.
From a letter in the New York Times.
The terrible cyclone of Oct. /, which de-
stroyed so many lives, wildly recalls an in
cident that will ever live in the memory of
the Gulf state residents, the destruction of
Last island, off the Louisiana coast, by a
cyclone and tidal wave, Sept. II, 1856.
Last island was long, low streak of
green, bound around the edge with a
line of dazzlngly white sand. Seen in
those days from the Louisiana mainland
Is miles away, the lower end of the parish
of Lafourche-it seemed but a slender bit
of green floating upon the bosom of the
summer sea.
The island, though one long sand spit
(only few feet above the highest tide lev
ell of the sea), was very Eden of flowers.
The falling leaves of the live-oaks for cen
turtles had created in their decay bed of
rich alluvium, which artificial means had
greatly increased. The ever-warm air from
the further south seas had given to the
shrub growth an extraordinary richness of
verdure. The orange and lemon trees, the
olive, the oeander, which in Louisiana is
a tree 30 feet high; all of the tribe of ia
ponicas, the jasmine, yellow and cape, and
hundreds of Others unknown to the North,
made the island coruscant with brilliant
colored blooms. 1t seemed that all that
was rich and lovely and beautiful in the
vegetation of the seml-tropics here found
its most congenial home.
1t was watering place, with the most
splendid surf-bathing on the side next the
open sea that ever was. The men who
gathered there were not strangers to each
other, for in Louisiana then everybody who
was anybody knew of his social equal, if
he was not a personal acquaintance, no
matter in what region he lived. So here
was spot, not very much known to the
outer world, where could gather, when
summer days became long and the dog
star ragged, the great cotton-panting mag
mates of Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas
and Alabama, or the rich, cOurtly, creole
sugar-growers from the Bayou Lafourche
country or the Cote dor, on the Mississip-
pi river, and their congeners, the American
sugar-growers from the Felicianas and
wealthy, aristocratic Rapides.
The season of 1856 at Last island was
one of the most charming ever known
since the famous watering place had been
established. Never did brave men and
charming women congregate at this de-
lightful rendezvous in greater numbers, or
in a fuller, finer spirit of happiness and
hopeful expectation The season was at
its height. Not only was the hotel proper
filled, but the dozen or so of cottages
generally known as ''the bachelors quar-
teTs'-were all occupied by as high bred,
as gallant and as gay a company of gentle
men as the entire South could show. 1t
was agreed that greater number of repre-
sentative Louisiana, Alabama and Missis-
sippi men and women never had been
gathered together at any southern water
ing place before.
There was to be, the evening of Sept. y,
the grand ball of the season, for it was
the last. The band of the French opera
house was there, then unequaled for its
music in America. The ballroom was dis
tant from the main hotel perhaps 20 yards,
and was reached by a covered way elevated
to the level of both buildings. 1t was
built very near the sea, and set upon
brick pillars six feet above the surface of
the earth. The hotel was constructed in
the same fashion, so that the breezes could
blow under both edifices and produce bet
ter ventilation.
Toward noon of the 18th the sun shone
out for an hour, but it was a dull, orange
hued orb surrounded by a yellow, misty
came on the sky was covered with a cloud
of the deepest blackness. There was
renewal of the vivid sheet lightning, but
no thunder. The sea was in such agita-
ton as the oldest had never before seen.
Great brilliant lights burst from the waves
as they were rolled in by the tremendous
southwest wind. Deep phosphorescent
fires, incandescent, in serpentine forms,
were seen writhing like shadows of mons
tiers, far out at sea. And most terrible of
all, there was distinctly audible at inter
walls, in the blackness and gloom, an I'M
earthly moan from the depths of the sea.
The women became seriously frightened,
and the men realized that nature was in
one of her most unusual and marvellous
moods. Still no one anticipated any real
danger. There had been great storms be-
fore. This was but the beginning of the
equinoctial blow. The ballroom was
lighted There was nothing else to do but
go to the dance. Women clothed them
selves, aided by deft-handed maids, with
hearts i'll at ease. Other thoughts than
those of conquest were filling their souls
with dread of what might come. But they
would go; perhaps the gay dresses, the bril-
liant lights, the soft, sweet music might
drive away the fears that oppressed their
souls.
At 10 o'clock the dance was at it height
Outside the storm was raging. The in
tense hlackness of darkness was broken
only by the constant broad flashes of
lightning and the phosphorescent blaze of
the sea. A terrible wind blew with tor
rents of slanting rain, that was as warm
as newly drawn blood. The band was
playing one of Gottschall1s sweetest
dreamy waltzes Che was a Louisianian),
"Creole Eyes," when a girl screamed. Her
white satin bottine had been wetted by
water coming up through the floor Ter
ror then beset all. A rush was made for
the hotel, but the covered way was gone.
II had been carried off by tremendous
wave from the raging sea! Mothers had
left their little children asleep in the other
house. How should they get to them! 1t
was utterly impossible, unless one had
wings, to pass through the tossing, boiling
flood of maddened sea that rolled between.
OF the horrors that followed, no living
tongue could ever tell. But at about mid
night the strange sea moan became roar
that grew nearer and louder, until it was
like 10000 laundering Niagaras. 1t was
tidal wave 1000 miles long, 10 miles wide
and 90 feet high. And as it rolled resist
less, hotel, ballroom, all were swallowed
up in the NAV of the pitiless sea. Men,
women and little ones were parted, never