from the gorges of the Rocky Mountains--all natives of the Union--all freemen alike--all meet upon this common ground of LIBERTY and COMMERCE. And this picture must be carried out with the children of _adoption_. Here is also the dark and mysterious Spaniard puffing his cigar and sending up volumes of smoke through his black imperials; the gay and frisky Frenchman; the sturdy Dutchman; the son of Erin, and the cunning Jew. A trite adage says that "it takes all kinds of people to make a world;" verily, then, the Levee is a world. CHAPTER V. THE CATHEDRAL.--ORPHAN'S ASYLUM.--THE SISTERS OF CHARITY, ETC. Immediately opposite the Place d'Armes, and fronting the levee, rises in solemn grandeur, the celebrated Cathedral. It must be very old, and was said to have been erected through the zealous munificence of Don Andre Almonoster. Connected with the building is a story curious and romantic, and from all I could learn no less true. When Don Andre died, he exacted of the priesthood the positive injunction, that every Saturday evening prayer should be offered up for his soul, and in default thereof the property was to pass into other hands. From that day to this, in fulfilling these extraordinary stipulations, not a solitary omission has been made. And as you stand about sundown at the Cathedral, you will hear the doleful bell mournfully recalling the memory of the departed Don Andre! I was there at that hour. The dark and frowning church towered far above me. The deep-toned bell echoed its mournful sound until twilight began to mantle the city with her sable curtains. I thought of Don Andre. I thought of his injunction; I thought of his soul, and I turned from the consecrated place with feelings the most singular and solemn.