A curious feature of this bit of history, as it applies to present-day New Orleans, is that though one hears of many families that claim descent from some nice, well-behaved “casket girl,” one never by any chance hears of a family claiming to be descended from a lady of the other stock.  When it is considered that the “correction girls” far outnumbered their virtuous sisters of the casket, and ought, therefore, by the law of averages, to have left a greater progeny, the matter becomes stranger still, taking on a scientific interest.  The explanation must, however, be left to some mind more astute than mine—­some mind capable, perhaps, of unraveling also those other riddles of New Orleans namely:  Who was the mysterious chevalier who many years ago invented that most delectable of sucreries, the praline, and whither did he vanish?  And how, although the refugee Duc d’Orleans (later Louis Philippe of France) stayed but a short time in New Orleans, did he manage to sleep in so many hundred beds, and in houses which were not built until long after his departure?  And why are so many of the signs, over bars, restaurants, and shops, of that blue and white enamel one associates with the signs of the Western Union Telegraph Company?  And why is the nickel as characteristic of New Orleans as is the silver dollar of the farther Middle West, and gold coin of the Pacific Slope—­why, when one pays for a ten-cent purchase with a half-dollar, does one receive eight nickels in change?  Ah, but New Orleans is a mysterious city!

Once, when the French and English were fighting for the possession of Canada and New Orleans was depending for protection on Swiss mercenaries, the French officer in command of these troops disciplined them by stripping them and tying them to trees, where they were a prey to the terrible mosquitoes of the Gulf.  One day they killed him and fled, but some of them were captured.  These were taken back to New Orleans, court-martialed, and punished according to the regulations:  they were nailed alive to their coffins and sawed in two.

Ceded to Spain by a secret clause in the Treaty of Paris, of which she did not know until 1764, Louisiana could not believe the news.  Even when the Acadians, appeared, after having been so cruelly ejected from their lands in what is now New Brunswick, Louisiana could not believe that Louis XV would coldly cast off his loyal colony.  The fact that he had done so was not credited until a Spanish governor arrived.  For three years after, there was confusion.  Then a strong force was sent from Spain under Count O’Reilly, a man of Irish birth, but Spanish allegiance, and the flag of Spain was raised.  O’Reilly maintained viceregal splendor; he invited leading citizens to a levee; here in his own house he caused his soldiers to seize the group of prominent men who had attempted to prevent the accomplishment of Spanish rule, and five of these he presently caused to be shot as rebels.