Gossip from the West Bank

The Archivist of Bayou Elsewhere

An oyster war is raging fearfully in New Orleans. The oystermen declare, in a published card in the newspapers, that they will not dispose of the luscious bivalves under thirty cents per dozen. This declaration has thrown much consternation and gloom over the oyster-loving citizens, and they are now busy getting signatories to protest against the action of the oystermen—they think twenty cents are amply remunerative. Can they go further?

Col. Joe Larguier returned from a fishing excursion to Bay St. Louis last week and the way he entertains his friends with marvelous fish stories is a caution. He told Perkins the people of the Bay rejoiced when he took his departure because he caught all the fish that were worth catching in the Bay while he staid there, and that his arm wouldn't get well for a month, owing to the heavy strain on it all the time, hauling out so many large fish. And Perkins went away marveling at the Colonel's wondrous powers.

The first of September is here and every mosquito in the country is here to prove up the assertion. Grumbling don't pay because we have been growing leaner and leaner at it all summer. In the economy of nature, mosquitoes were invented to make lazy men scratch, but in our understanding of the matter, they are a device of the Evil One to men's souls by too much hard swearing. We shall hold a solemn barbecue the day they are announced as having given up the ghost for the season. They have been — and still are — the greatest pests we have encountered for many a year.

Up to the present time New Orleans is in the perfect state of health. Never within the memory of man has the condition of health been better than it is now and has been all summer. It has taken the people of that city a long time to find out how to do it, but they have found it out at last. Now the next best thing to do is to keep it healthy. Deprive New Orleans of the annual yellow fever scare and she will build up faster than any other city in the Union.

Shall we have an equinoxial gale soon. Everything looks that way. The heat is intense, night and day. The air seems heavy, while ominous clouds cover the horizon threatening rain, perhaps wind at an early day. Tree frogs croak uneasily, birds fly low and cattle gather together in groups as if anticipating danger. Something is coming beyond a doubt.

Country Vexations — The river is going down — shrimps are hunting cosy winter quarters — mosquitoes are simply terrific — owing to the intense heat, hens no longer produce their peculiar berries — ice is becoming scarce — items are not to be thought of, they don't exist — police jury meets next Monday — general health much mixed — Tony Barrow keeps on flying around — Augustin worried over Sitting Bull's saying — Louis doses him with water occasionally — there is a prospect of much cooler weather next month — guess we'll quit — at the bottom of the page.

We are not disposed to brag, but we are looking for some Baton Rougean to take the honors from us on rifle shooting. With a twenty-two Remington rifle, we hit a silver fifty cent piece tossed into the air four times out of six shots — a nickel two out of three. —Advocate  The only improbable part of the story is that the editor had a fifty cent piece to shoot at! But to be charitable, we will concede the nickel.

Dr. Jake Fahnert is at his post again in the Sumter House after a week's excursion over the Lake. He is highly elated with his trip, and says the scales of the fish he devoured were coming out all over his back. Must have ocular evidence of that before we will believe it!

Editor’s Note:

Transcribed from the West Baton Rouge Sugar Planter, September 3, 1881. Lightly edited for clarity and punctuation.

1881 was known nationwide for its exceptional heat and lack of rain, contributing to everything from ice shortages to livestock loss.

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