The cemetery which occupies a site close to the great battle-field, is always specially decorated, and crowds go out in thousands to pay tribute to honored memories.  Close to this spot there is a monument to celebrate the great battle during which General Pakingham was shot, and at which General Jackson galloped excitedly up and down the lines, and almost forced the men on to victory.  The monument has not received the care which it deserves.  More than half a century ago work was commenced on it, and a great deal was accomplished.  But after a year or two of effort the project was abandoned for the time, and it has never been renewed.  In the long interval that has ensued the roof has, in a large measure, disappeared, as well as several of the steps leading up to the front.  Hundreds of people have cut their names in the stone work, and the monument, which ought to be preserved in perpetuity, looks so disreputable that little regret would be caused were the entire fragment to be swept away by some unusually heavy gust of wind.

More than 1,500 soldiers were buried in the Chalmette Cemetery after the battle referred to.  Since the war it has been well nigh forgotten, but several duels and affaires d’honneur have been settled on the historic spot.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE HEATHEN CHINEE IN HIS ELEMENT.

A Trip to Chinatown, San Francisco—­A House with a History—­Narrow Alleys and Secret Doors—­Opium Smoking and its Effects—­The Highbinders—­Celestial Theatricals—­Chinese Festivals—­The Brighter Side of a Great City—­A Mammoth Hotel and Beautiful Park.

Chinatown, San Francisco, is such a remarkable place, and contrasts so strangely with the wealth and civilization of the great city on the Pacific Coast, of which it is a part, that its peculiarities cannot be ignored in a sketch of the most remarkable features of our native land.  Writers and artists have for years made this blot on San Francisco’s splendor the subject for sarcasm and cartoon, and, indeed, it is difficult to handle the subject without a considerable amount of severity.  Californians are often blamed for their harshness towards the Chinese, and the way in which they have clamored from time to time for more stringent exclusion laws.  It takes a trip to Chinatown to make it clear to the average mortal why this feeling is so general in San Francisco, and why it extends throughout the entire Pacific Slope.

There are about 25,000 Chinese in and around San Francisco.  A small proportion of these have abandoned the worst features of their race, and make themselves comparatively useful as domestic servants.  In order to retain their positions they have to assimilate themselves more or less to the manners and customs of the country, and they are only objectionable in certain respects.  But the one-time dwellers in the Celestial Empire, who make their homes in Chinatown, have very few redeeming qualities, and most of them seem to have no tangible excuse whatever for living.