"Rock a bye, baby, upon the tree top,When the wind blows the cradle will rock;When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,And down tumbles baby, cradle and all."
These little candidates for "field honours," are useless articles on a plantation during the first five or six years of their existence. They are then made to take the first lessons in the elementary part of their education. When they have learned their manual alphabet tolerably well, they are placed in the field to take a spell at cotton-picking. The first day in the field is their proudest day. The young negroes look forward to it, with as much restlessness and impatience as school-boys to a vacation. Black children are not put to work so young as many children of poor parents at the north. It is often the case that the children of the domestic servants become pets in the house, and the playmates of the white children of the family. No scene can be livelier or more interesting to a northerner, than that which the negro quarters of awell regulated plantation present, on a Sabbath morning, just before church hour. In every cabin the men are shaving and dressing—the women, arrayed in their gay muslins, are arranging their frizzly hair, in which they take no little pride, or investigating the condition of their children's heads—the old people neatly clothed are quietly conversing or smoking about their doors, and those of the younger portion, who are not undergoing the infliction of the wash-tub, are enjoying themselves in the shade of the trees or around some little pond, with as much zest as though "slavery" and "freedom" were synonymous terms. When all are dressed and the hour arrives for worship, they lock up their cabins, and the whole population of the little village proceeds to the chapel, where divine worship is performed, sometimes by an officiating clergyman, and often by the planter himself, if a church member. The whole plantation is also frequently formed into a Sabbath class, which is instructed by the planter or some member of his family; and often such is the anxiety of masters that they should perfectly understand what they are taught—a hard matter in the present state of African intellect—that no means calculated to advance their progress are left untried. I was not long since shown a manuscript catechism, drawn up with great care and judgment by a distinguished planter, on a plan admirably adapted to the comprehension of negroes. The same gentleman, in conjunction with two or three neighbouring planters, employs a Presbyterian clergyman, formerly a missionaryamong the Choctaws at the Elliott station before their dispersion, to preach to the slaves, paying him a salary for his services. On those plantations which have no chapel, and no regular worship on the Sabbath, negroes are permitted to go to the nearest town to church; a privilege they seldom know how to appreciate, and prefer converting their liberty into an opportunity for marketing or visiting. Experience, however, has convinced planters that no indulgence to their slaves is so detrimental as this, both to the moral condition of the slave, and the good order of the plantation, for there is no vice in which many of them will not become adepts, if allowed a temporary freedom from restraint, one day in seven. Hence this liberty, except in particular instances, is denied them on some estates; to which they are confined under easy discipline during the day, passing the time in strolling through the woods, sleeping, eating, and idling about the quarters. The evenings of the Sabbath are passed in little gossipping circles in some of the cabins, or beneath the shade of some tree in front of their dwellings, or at weddings. The negroes are usually married by the planter, who reads the service from the gallery—the couple with their attendants standing upon the steps or on the green in front. These marriages, in the eye of the slave, are binding. Clergymen are sometimes invited to officiate by those planters who feel that respect for the marriage covenant, which leads them to desire its strict observance, where human legislation has not provided for it. On nuptial occasions the negroespartake of fine suppers, to which the ladies add many little delicacies, and handsome presents of wearing apparel to the married pair. When the negroes desire a clergyman to perform the ceremony for them, planters seldom refuse to comply with their request.
When negroes leave the plantation, for whatever purpose, whether to attend church, class meeting or market, visit their husbands, wives, or sweethearts, or are sent on errands, they must carry with them a written permission of absence from their master, stating the object for which his slave leaves his plantation, the place or places to which he is going, and the time to which his absence is limited. This written authority is called a "pass," and is usually written somewhat after this form:
"Oakland—June—18—"Pass J——to Natchez and back again by sunset," or "E—— has permission to visit his wife on Mr. C——'s plantation, to be absent till 9 o'clock."
"Oakland—June—18—
"Pass J——to Natchez and back again by sunset," or "E—— has permission to visit his wife on Mr. C——'s plantation, to be absent till 9 o'clock."
In such fluctuating property as slaves, it often happens that husband, wife, and children may all belong to different owners; and as negroes belonging to different plantations intermarry, such a provision, which is a state law, is necessary to preserve discipline, and embrace within the eye or knowledge of the master, every movement of his slave. Were slaves allowed to leave the estates without the knowledge of their masters, during a certain portion of every week, an immense body of men in the aggregate, consisting of a few from everyplantation in the state, would be moving among the plantations, at liberty to plan and execute any mischief they might choose to set on foot. If negroes leave the plantation without a "pass," they are liable to be taken up by any white person who suspects them to be runaways, and punishment is the consequence. The law allows every white man in town or country this kind of supervision over negroes; and as there are always men who are on the lookout for runaways, for the purpose of obtaining the reward of several dollars for each they can bring back to his master, the slave, should he leave the plantation without his "pass"—the want of which generally denotes the runaway—is soon apprehended. You will see that this regulation is a wise legal provision for the preservation both of private and public security. An anecdote connected with this subject was recently related to me by a planter whose slave was the hero. "A gentleman," said he, "met one of my negroes mounted on horseback, with a jug in his hand, riding toward Natchez." Suspecting him from appearances to be a runaway, he stopped him and asked for his "pass." The slave unrolled first one old rag—an old rag is a negro's substitute for a pocket—and then another without success. "I 'spec' me loss me pass, master." "Whom do you belong to?" "Mr. ——," giving the wrong person. "Where are you going?" "To Natchez, get whiskey, master." At the moment, my brand upon the horse struck the eye of the gentleman; "You are a runaway, boy—you belong to Mr. D——." Instantly the negro leapedfrom his horse, cleared the fence, and fled through the woods like a deer toward home. The gentleman on arriving at his own house, sent a servant to me with the horse which the runaway had deserted. I immediately assembled the whole force of the plantation and not one of the negroes was missing; the culprit having managed to arrive at the plantation before I could receive any intimation of his absence. I tried a long time to make the guilty one confess, but in vain. So at last, I tried the effect of aruse. "Well, boys, I know it is one of you, and though I am not able to point out the rogue, my friend who detected him will recognize him at once. So you must walk over to his house. Fall in there—march!"
"They proceeded a short distance, when I ordered a halt. "Mind, boys, the guilty one shall not only be punished by me, but I will give every 'hand' on the plantation the liberty of taking personal satisfaction, for compelling them to take a walk of three miles.—So, march!" They moved on again for about a quarter of a mile, when they came to a full stop—deliberated a few moments and then retraced their steps. "Hie! what now?" "Why, master, Bob say he de one." Bob, who it seems had confessed to his fellow-slaves as the best policy, now stepped forward, and acknowledged himself to be the runaway."
[6]The weeping willow is less luxuriant in this climate than in latitude 40°. It is not however cultivated in this state as it is in Pennsylvania, where it arrives at the greatest perfection. There is a willow which grows on the banks of the Mississippi, whose roots become as dry as tinder, after the periodical swell has subsided, but which vegetates afresh as soon as it is watered by the next inundation. This property of dying and returning again to vegetative existence, is not peculiar to this willow; other plants possess the same singular property, though this exceeds all others in magnitude. The plants of that description known to botanists, are all water mosses except two species of ducksmeat—the "lemna minor" and the "lemna gibba." These are but minute vegetables floating on the surface of stagnant water, without taking root in the pond. They may be dried in the hot sun and then kept in a deal box for two or three years, after which they will revive, if placed in spring, river or rain water. There is at the north a kind of natural paper, resembling the coats or strata of a wasp's nest in colour and consistency, which is formed of the sediment of ponds, that become dry in hot weather. If a piece of this paper-like substance be put in a glass of fresh water and exposed to light, it loses its dirty-white colour in a few minutes and assumes a lively green. This sudden and unexpected change is occasioned by a number of aquatic mosses, constituting a part of the materials of the paper or sediment in question, and belonging to the genus "Conferra;" for these minute vegetables may be said to be in the state of suspended animation, while they remain dry; but the presence of water restores them to their natural functions by its animating virtue.So long retaining the principle of life, these curious plants, as well as the two species above mentioned, may be transported to any distant country in a torpid condition, where they might again be animated. The same remark will apply to the Mississippi willow which suggested these observations.
[6]The weeping willow is less luxuriant in this climate than in latitude 40°. It is not however cultivated in this state as it is in Pennsylvania, where it arrives at the greatest perfection. There is a willow which grows on the banks of the Mississippi, whose roots become as dry as tinder, after the periodical swell has subsided, but which vegetates afresh as soon as it is watered by the next inundation. This property of dying and returning again to vegetative existence, is not peculiar to this willow; other plants possess the same singular property, though this exceeds all others in magnitude. The plants of that description known to botanists, are all water mosses except two species of ducksmeat—the "lemna minor" and the "lemna gibba." These are but minute vegetables floating on the surface of stagnant water, without taking root in the pond. They may be dried in the hot sun and then kept in a deal box for two or three years, after which they will revive, if placed in spring, river or rain water. There is at the north a kind of natural paper, resembling the coats or strata of a wasp's nest in colour and consistency, which is formed of the sediment of ponds, that become dry in hot weather. If a piece of this paper-like substance be put in a glass of fresh water and exposed to light, it loses its dirty-white colour in a few minutes and assumes a lively green. This sudden and unexpected change is occasioned by a number of aquatic mosses, constituting a part of the materials of the paper or sediment in question, and belonging to the genus "Conferra;" for these minute vegetables may be said to be in the state of suspended animation, while they remain dry; but the presence of water restores them to their natural functions by its animating virtue.
So long retaining the principle of life, these curious plants, as well as the two species above mentioned, may be transported to any distant country in a torpid condition, where they might again be animated. The same remark will apply to the Mississippi willow which suggested these observations.
[7]The negro seldom is heard to say "massa;" they generally saymaster, distinctly.
[7]The negro seldom is heard to say "massa;" they generally saymaster, distinctly.
Preparation for a deer hunt—A sailor, a planter, and an author—A deer driver—"Stands" for deer—The hunting ground—The hunt—Ellis's cliff—Silver mine—An hypothesis—Alluvial formation of the lower valley of the Mississippi—Geological descriptions of the south-west.
Preparation for a deer hunt—A sailor, a planter, and an author—A deer driver—"Stands" for deer—The hunting ground—The hunt—Ellis's cliff—Silver mine—An hypothesis—Alluvial formation of the lower valley of the Mississippi—Geological descriptions of the south-west.
The morning after my arrival at the plantation, which suggested the subject of my last letter, two gentlemen, with their guns and dogs, arrived at the house, to proceed from thence, according to a previous arrangement, on a deer hunt. This noble and attractive game abounds in the "bottoms" and river hills in this region; though the planters, who are in general passionately fond of hunting, are fast thinning their numbers. The branching antlers of a stag, as in the old oaken halls of England, are found fixed, in some conspicuous station, in almost every planter's habitation—trophies of his skill, and testimonials of his attachment to the chase.
Having prepared our hunting apparatus, and assembled the dogs, which, from their impatient movements, evidently needed no intimation of our design, we mounted our horses, and, winding through the cotton fields, entered a forest to the south, and proceeded, in fine spirits, toward the "drive," four or five miles below, as the hunting station istechnically termed by deer hunters. There were, exclusive of a servant, four in our party. One of them, my host, formerly an officer in the navy, having, some years since, left the service, and settled himself down as a cotton planter, presented in his person the anomalous union, in Mississippi, of the sailor and farmer: for in this state, which has little intercourse directly with the sea, sailors are rare birds. Till recently a ship could not be seen by a Mississippian without going to New-Orleans, or elsewhere out of the state: but since Natchez became a port of entry, and ships have ascended here, the citizens who flocked in from all the country round, to gaze upon them, are a little moreau faitto this branch of nautical knowledge. It would be difficult to say which predominates in this gentleman, the bluff and frank bearing of the sailor, or the easy and independent manner of the planter. In the management of his plantation, the result of his peculiar economy has shown, that the discipline with which he was familiar in the navy, with suitable modifications, has not been applied unsuccessfully to the government of his slaves. What a strange inclination sailors have for farming! Inquire of any New-England sea-captain the ultimatum of his wishes, after leaving the sea—for sailors in general follow the sea as the means of securing them a snug berth on shore—and he will almost invariably reply—"a farm." Another of our party was a planter, a native of Mississippi, and the son of a gentleman whose philosophic researches have greatly contributed to the advancement of science. Hewas a model of a southern planter—gentlemanly, companionable, and a keen hunter. The government of his plantation, which is one of the finest in the state, is of a parental rather than an imperious character. He rules rather by kindness than severity, and his slaves obey from the principle of a desire to please, rather than from fear. And the result of his discipline has fully overthrown the sweeping assertion, which it is the fashion to repeat and believe, that "the more kindly slaves are treated the worse they are." A favourite theory of philanthropists, in relation to master and slave, is more practically illustrated on the estate of this gentleman, than the most sanguine of its framers could have anticipated. As I have, in a former letter, alluded to that branch of the domestic economy of this plantation, relating to the religious privileges of the slaves, and shall again have occasion to refer to its discipline, I will pursue the subject here no farther.
The third individual of our party was a gentleman originally from New-Jersey; a state which has contributed many valuable citizens to Mississippi. But he had been too long in the south to preserve his identity as a Jersey man. The son of a distinguished barrister, he had been a lawyer himself; but, like all professional men, who have remained here a short time, he had taken his third degree as a cotton planter. He is a gentleman of fine taste and a chastened imagination; and besides some beautiful tales, contributed to the periodicals, he is the author of that delightful story, the "Fawn'sleap," published in the Atlantic Souvenir of 1830. The literary world will have reason to feel regret, in which the subject of my remark will, no doubt, be far from sympathising, that fortune has placed him among herprotegés. He possesses an independent property, and resides on an estate called "Woodbourne," eight or nine miles from Natchez. With true Mississippi taste, he has placed his handsome villa in the midst of a forest; but the majestic beauty of the lofty trees, as surveyed from the gallery, and the solemn grandeur of the primeval forests which inclose his dwelling on all sides, struck me, at the moment, as far superior to any display of art in ornamental grounds, and nearly unhinged my predilection for artificial scenery. In this charming retirement, and in the quiet enjoyment of private life, he has laid aside the gown of the author to assume the capote of the planter, and become an indefatigable devotee to the lordly pleasures of the chase. Few men, who hunt merelyen amateur, and especially, few literary men, can boast that they have killed twenty-seven deer, and been at the death of fifty-two—yet this gentleman can do so with truth: and a row of notches, cut in his hunting-horn, which I found suspended from an antler in the gallery of the house we had just left, recorded the fact. Besides this gentleman, there are but few individuals who are known out of this state as cultivators of literature. Mississippi is yet too young to boast of her authors, although she is not deficient in men of talent and learning. But the members of the learned professions are too muchinvolved in schemes of wealth to have leisure or inclination for the cultivation of general literature.
Half way through the forest into which we entered on leaving the plantation, we came to a rude dwelling, inhabited by a ruder old hunter, who was to officiate as "driver." He accompanied us with his dogs for a while, and then turned aside into the woods to surround the deer in their place of resort and drive them toward the river, between which and them we were to take our "stands," for the purpose of intercepting them, as they dashed by to the water. For if alarmed while feeding upon the high grounds back front the Mississippi, they at once bound off to the shelter of the swamps or bottoms near the river—and the skilful hunter, whose experience teaches him by what paths they will seek to gain the lowlands where the hounds cannot follow them, takes his stand with his rifle behind some tree by which he is tolerably sure the deer will pass, and as the noble and terrified animal bounds past him, he levels the deadly rifle with unerring aim, and buries a bullet in his heart.
Emerging from the forest a mile or two above our hunting ground, we came suddenly upon an amphitheatre of naked hills nearly surrounded by forests of dark pine. Winding through romantic defiles thickly bordered with cedars, we gradually ascended to the summit of the highest of this cluster of treeless hills, when all at once the Mississippi, rolling onward to the sea, burst upon our sight in all its majesty. There is a grand and desolate character in those naked cliffs which hang in hugeterraces over the river, to the perpendicular height of three hundred feet. The view from their summits is one of the most sublime and extensive in the south-west. To the north and south the broad river spreads away like a long serpentine lake, its western shore presenting a plain, clothed even to the horizon with a boundless forest, with a plantation here and there breaking the uniformity of its outlines, near the water's edge.
After a farther ride of a mile, over a hilly road through woods alternately exposing and hiding the river, we arrived at the "deer-stand,"—a long ridge nearly parallel with the river, and covered with a very open forest with a low "bottom," between the ridge and the water, and an extensive "drive," or forest frequented by deer, extending two miles inland. Our "driver" with the whole pack, had turned off into the "drive" some time before, and having examined the ground, we took our "stands" about a hundred yards apart, each behind a large tree commanding an opening, or avenue, through which the deer were expected to pass. Several of these "stands," and many more than we could occupy, were on the ridge, all of which should have been occupied to insure a successful issue to our sport. A few moments after we had taken our stands, and while listening for the least token of the "driver's" presence in the depths of the forest—the distant baying of dogs, in that peculiar note with which they open when they have roused their game, fell faintly upon our ears. The chorus of canine voices, however, soon grew louder and moreviolent—and as they awoke the echoes of the forests, and came down upon us like a storm—my heart leaped and the blood coursed merrily in my veins. All at once the deep voices of the hounds ceased as though they were at fault; but after a few moments' pause, a staunch old hunter opened again far to the right, and again the whole pack were in pursuit in full cry, and the crashing of trees and underbrush directly in front of us about a quarter of a mile in the wood, with the increased roar of the pack, warned us to be ready. The next moment the noise moved away to the right, and all at once, with a crash and a bound, a noble stag, with his head laid back upon his shoulders, crossed our line at the remotest stand, and disappeared in the thick woods along the river. The dogs followed like meteors. Away to the left another crashing was heard, and a beautiful doe leaped across the open space on the ridge, and was lost in the thicket. The sounds of affrighted deer, passing through the forest at a great distance, were occasionally heard, but these soon died away and we only heard the wild clamour of the dogs, which the driver, who was close at their heels, in vain essayed to recall by sounding his horn long and loud, and sending its hoarse notes into the deepest recesses of the wood.
After a great deal of trouble, by whipping, coaxing, and driving, nearly all the dogs were again collected, as it was in vain to pursue the deer to their retreats. Some of the old hunters slowly coming in at the last, laid themselves down by us panting and half dead with fatigue. By and by the driveragain started into the "drive" with the dogs; but an engagement for the evening, precluding my participation in a renewal of the spirit-stirring scene, I reluctantly left my agreeable party who were out for the day, and proceeded homeward. They returned late at night with, I believe, a single deer as the reward of their patience and unwearied spirits, two most important virtues in a thorough-bred deer hunter. Uncommon nerve and great presence of mind are also indispensable qualifications. "Once," remarked a hunting gentleman to me, "while waiting at my stand the approach of a buck, which some time before seeing him I had heard leaping along in immense bounds through the thicket—his sudden appearance in an open space about a hundred yards in front, bearing down directly toward me at fearful speed, so awed and unnerved me for the moment, that although my rifle was levelled at his broad breast, I had not the power to pull the trigger, and before I could recover myself the noble creature passed me like the wind." Yet this gentleman was a tried hunter, and on other occasions had brought down deer as they came toward him at full speed, at the distance of from sixty to a hundred yards.
On my return from the hunting ground, I lingered on the romantic cliff we had crossed in the morning, delighted at once more beholding scenery that reminded me of the rude features of my native state. Dismounting from my horse, which I secured to the only tree upon the cliff, I descended, after many hair-breadth escapes a ravine nearly two hundred feet indepth, which conducted me to the water side and near the mouth of the beautiful St. Catharine, which, after a winding course of more than eighty miles, empties itself into the Mississippi through an embouchure ten yards wide, and as accurately defined as the mouth of a canal. Near this spot is a silver mine lately re-discovered, after the lapse of a third of a century. Its history, I believe, is this. Some thirty or forty years ago, a Spaniard who had been a miner in Mexico, passing down the Mississippi, discovered ore which he supposed to be silver. He took a quantity of it into his pirogue, and on arriving at a planter's house on the banks of the river in Louisiana, tested it as correctly as circumstances would admit, and was satisfied that it was pure silver. He communicated the discovery to his host, gave him a few ingots of the metal and took his departure. What became of him is not known. The host from year to year resolved to visit the spot, but neglected it, or was prevented by the intrusion of more pressing employments, till four or five years since. He then communicated the discovery to a Mexican miner, an American or an Englishman, who stopped at his house, and to whom, on hearing him speak of mines, he showed the masses he had received so many years before from the Spaniard. The man on examining them and ascertaining the metal to be pure silver, became at once interested in the discovery, obtained the necessary information to enable him to find the spot, and immediately ascended the river. On arriving at the cliffs he commenced his search, and after a few days discovered the vein, in one ofthe lowest strata of the cliffs. He found it difficult, however, to engage the neighbouring planters in his scheme of working it, for what planter would exchange his cotton fields for a silver mine? Yet they treated him with attention, and seconded his efforts by lending him slaves. More than a hundred weight of the ore was obtained, and sent on to Philadelphia to undergo the process of fusion. It probably is not rich enough for amalgamation, as it contains a superior bulk of iron pyrites, blende, lead and earthy matter. The amount of pure silver procured from the ore has not been ascertained, the result of the process not having yet been made known. I obtained several pieces, which make a very pretty show in a cabinet, and this is probably the highest honour to which it will be exalted, at least till the surface of the earth refuses longer to bear ingots of silver, in the shape of the snowy cotton boll.
The peculiar features of these cliffs are a series of vast concavities, or inverted hollow cones, connected with each other by narrow gorges, whose bottoms are level with the river, and surrounded by perpendicular and overhanging walls of earth, often detached, like huge pyramids, and nearly three hundred feet in height. There are five clusters of these cliffs in this state, all situated on the eastern shore of the Mississippi, from forty to one hundred miles apart, of which this is the most important in height and magnitude, as well as in grandeur and variety of scenery. They are properly the heads or terminations of the high grounds of the United States—theantennæof the Alleghanies.[8]The hypothesis that they were promontories in past ages, with the waves of the Mexican Gulf breaking at their bases, has had the support of many scientific men. This opinion carries with it great probability, when the peculiar qualities of the Mississippi are considered in relation to its "forming effects." These effects are a consequence of the general truth of the proposition, that every mechanical destruction will be followed by a mechanical formation; hence the masses separated by the waters of the Mississippi, will be again deposited on the surface of the land, or its shores, about its mouth, and on the bottom of the sea. You are aware that one twelfth of the bulk of this vast volume of water is earth, as ascertained by its depositing that proportion in the bottom of a glass filled with the water. During the flood the proportion is greater, and the earthy particles are as dense as the water can hold in suspension. The average velocity of the current below the Missouri, is between one and two miles an hour, and it is calculated that it would require four months to discharge the column of water embraced between this point and its delta. Bearing constantly within its flood a mass of earth equal to one twelfth of its whole bulk, it follows that it must bear toward the sea, every four years, more than its cubical bulk of solid earth. Now where is this great column of earth deposited? Has it been rolling onward for centuries, without any visibleeffects? This will not be affirmed, and experience proves the contrary in the hourly mechanical depositions of the ochreous particles of this river, in its noble convexities, its extensive bottoms, and the growing capes at its mouth. But a small portion of the turbid mixture has been deposited in the bed of the river, particularly in its southern section, as moving water will not deposit at any great depth.[9]
Now when the general appearance and geological features of the South-West, including the south part of Mississippi and nearly the whole of Louisiana, are observed with reference to the preceding statements, the irresistible conviction of the observer is, that the immense plain now rich with sugar and cotton fields, a great emporium, numerous villages and a thousand villas, was formed by the mechanical deposits of the Mississippi upon the bed of theocean, precisely as they are now building up fields into the Mexican Gulf. Do not understand me that the present fertile surface of this region was the original bed of the ocean, but that it rose out of it, as the coral islands come up out of the sea, by the gradual accumulation of deposits. The appearance of these inland promontories or cliffs, which suggested these remarks, and the fact that the highlands of the south-west, all terminate along the southern border of this region, from fifty to one hundred miles from the sea, leaving a broad alluvial tract between, and presenting a well definedinlandsea-board, go far to strengthen the opinion I have adopted.
The chain of cliffs along the eastern shore of the Mississippi, have a parallel chain opposite to them on the other side of the great savana, skirted by the Mississippi, about forty miles distant. This savana or valley gradually widens to the south until near the mouth of the river, where it is increased to one hundred and forty or fifty miles in breadth. It is this great valley which is of mechanical formation, and its present site was in all probability covered by the waters of a bay similar to the Chesapeake, extending many leagues above Natchez to the nearest approximation of the cliffs on either side, where alone must have been an original mouth of this great river. Where the spectator, in looking westward from these bluffs; now beholds an extensive and level forest, in ages past rolled the waters of the Mexican sea—and where he now gazes upon a broad and placid riverflowing onward to mingle with the distant ocean, the very waves of that ocean rolled in loud surges, dashed against the lofty cliffs, and kissed the pebbles at his feet.
[8]There are five more cliffs above this state, between it and the mouth of the Ohio; and one on the western shore of the Mississippi at Helena, Arkansas.
[8]There are five more cliffs above this state, between it and the mouth of the Ohio; and one on the western shore of the Mississippi at Helena, Arkansas.
[9]The following extract from a private letter in the author's possession, bearing date New Orleans 28th April, 1804, contains some interesting facts, relative to the depth of the lower Mississippi, and other characteristics of this river, which were obtained by the writer from actual observation."In Nov. 1800, when there was scarcely any perceptible current, in company with Mr. Benj. Morgan and Capt. Roger Crane, I set off from just above the upper gate of this city and sounded the river, at every three or four boats' length, until we landed opposite to M. Bernody's house on the right bank of the river. The depth of water increased pretty regularly; viz. 10, 12, 13, 15, 17, 19, and 20 fathoms. The greatest depth was found at about 120 yards from Bernody's shore. This operation was accurately performed; and as the river rises about twelve feet on an average at this place, the depth at high water will be twenty two fathoms. A M. Dervengé, whose father was chief pilot in the time of the French, informed me that his father often told him that a little way below the English Turn there was fifty fathoms of water; and M. Laveau Trudo said that about the upper Plaquemine, there was sixty fathoms, or three hundred and sixty feet.In the year 1791, during five days that I lay at the Balize, I learned from M. Demaron Trudo, who was then commandant of that place, that there was about three feet difference between the high and low waters. From the best information I have been able to collect, there is a declension of eight or nine feet from the natural banks of the river at this city, to the banks upon which is the site of the house where the Spanish commandant lived before they removed up to Plaquemine, at the distance of about three leagues from the sea. There is a gradual slope or descent of the whole southern region of the Mississippi river, from the river Yazoo, in lat. 32° 30' N. to the ocean or Gulf of Mexico. The elevation of the bluff at Natchez is about 200 feet; at St. Francisville, seventy miles lower, it is a little more than 100 feet; at Baton Rouge, about thirty miles lower, it is less than 40 feet, at New Orleans, according to the above statement eight feet, and at the Balize less than two feet. This vast glacis, at a similar angle of inclination, extends for some leagues into the Gulf of Mexico, till lost in the natural bed of the ocean.The river, whose current is said to be the most rapid at the period when it is about to overflow its banks, runs in its swiftest vein or portion about five miles an hour. I allude to the line of upper current, and not to the mass, which moves much slower than the surface. The average velocity of the river when not in flood is not above two miles an hour. This is easily ascertained, by the progression and regular motion of its swells, and not by its apparent motion.In November, 1800, as before observed, the motion of the stream was so sluggish as to be scarcely perceptible. A vessel that then lay opposite the Government House, advanced against it with a light breeze. I was told by a respectable lady, Mdme. Robin, who lives about six leagues below the city, that the water of the river was so brackish that she was obliged to drink other water, and that there were an abundance of porpoises, sharks, mullet, and other sea-fish, even above her plantation, nearly one hundred miles from the Gulf. The citizens thought the water brackish opposite the town. It looked quite green like sea-water, and when held to the light was quite clear. Although I did not think it brackish, I found it vapid and disagreeable. This is a phenomenon of rare occurrence, and not satisfactorily accounted for."
[9]The following extract from a private letter in the author's possession, bearing date New Orleans 28th April, 1804, contains some interesting facts, relative to the depth of the lower Mississippi, and other characteristics of this river, which were obtained by the writer from actual observation.
"In Nov. 1800, when there was scarcely any perceptible current, in company with Mr. Benj. Morgan and Capt. Roger Crane, I set off from just above the upper gate of this city and sounded the river, at every three or four boats' length, until we landed opposite to M. Bernody's house on the right bank of the river. The depth of water increased pretty regularly; viz. 10, 12, 13, 15, 17, 19, and 20 fathoms. The greatest depth was found at about 120 yards from Bernody's shore. This operation was accurately performed; and as the river rises about twelve feet on an average at this place, the depth at high water will be twenty two fathoms. A M. Dervengé, whose father was chief pilot in the time of the French, informed me that his father often told him that a little way below the English Turn there was fifty fathoms of water; and M. Laveau Trudo said that about the upper Plaquemine, there was sixty fathoms, or three hundred and sixty feet.
In the year 1791, during five days that I lay at the Balize, I learned from M. Demaron Trudo, who was then commandant of that place, that there was about three feet difference between the high and low waters. From the best information I have been able to collect, there is a declension of eight or nine feet from the natural banks of the river at this city, to the banks upon which is the site of the house where the Spanish commandant lived before they removed up to Plaquemine, at the distance of about three leagues from the sea. There is a gradual slope or descent of the whole southern region of the Mississippi river, from the river Yazoo, in lat. 32° 30' N. to the ocean or Gulf of Mexico. The elevation of the bluff at Natchez is about 200 feet; at St. Francisville, seventy miles lower, it is a little more than 100 feet; at Baton Rouge, about thirty miles lower, it is less than 40 feet, at New Orleans, according to the above statement eight feet, and at the Balize less than two feet. This vast glacis, at a similar angle of inclination, extends for some leagues into the Gulf of Mexico, till lost in the natural bed of the ocean.
The river, whose current is said to be the most rapid at the period when it is about to overflow its banks, runs in its swiftest vein or portion about five miles an hour. I allude to the line of upper current, and not to the mass, which moves much slower than the surface. The average velocity of the river when not in flood is not above two miles an hour. This is easily ascertained, by the progression and regular motion of its swells, and not by its apparent motion.
In November, 1800, as before observed, the motion of the stream was so sluggish as to be scarcely perceptible. A vessel that then lay opposite the Government House, advanced against it with a light breeze. I was told by a respectable lady, Mdme. Robin, who lives about six leagues below the city, that the water of the river was so brackish that she was obliged to drink other water, and that there were an abundance of porpoises, sharks, mullet, and other sea-fish, even above her plantation, nearly one hundred miles from the Gulf. The citizens thought the water brackish opposite the town. It looked quite green like sea-water, and when held to the light was quite clear. Although I did not think it brackish, I found it vapid and disagreeable. This is a phenomenon of rare occurrence, and not satisfactorily accounted for."
Geography of Mississippi—Ridges and bottoms—The Mississippi at its efflux—Pine and table lands—General features of the state—Bayous—Back-water of rivers—Springs—St. Catharine's harp—Bankston springs—Mineral waters of this state—Petrifactions—Quartz crystals—"Thunderbolts"—Rivers—The Yazoo and Pearl.
Geography of Mississippi—Ridges and bottoms—The Mississippi at its efflux—Pine and table lands—General features of the state—Bayous—Back-water of rivers—Springs—St. Catharine's harp—Bankston springs—Mineral waters of this state—Petrifactions—Quartz crystals—"Thunderbolts"—Rivers—The Yazoo and Pearl.
Though not much given to theorising, I have been drawn into some undigested remarks in my last letter, upon a theory, which is beginning to command the attention of scientific men, to which the result of geological researches daily adds weight, and to which time, with correct observations and farther discoveries, must add the truth of demonstration.
This letter I will devote to a subject, naturally arising from the preceding, perhaps not entirely without interest—I mean the physical geography and geology of this state. In the limits of a letter it is impossible to treat this subject as the nature of it demands, yet I will endeavour to go so far into its detail, as to give you a tolerable idea of the general features of the region.
Besides the cliffs, or great head-lands, alluded to in my last letter, frowning, at long intervals, over the Mississippi, serrated ridges, formed of continuous hills projecting from these points, extend in various directions over the state. These again branch into lower ridges, which often terminate near the river, between the great bluffs, leaving a flat space from their base to the water, from a third of a mile to a league in breadth. These flats, or "bottoms," as they are termed in western phraseology, are inundated at the periodical floods, increasing, at those places, the breadth of the river to the dimensions of a lake. The forest-covered savana, nearly forty miles across, through which the Mississippi flows, and which is bordered by the mural high lands or cliffs alluded to in my last letter, is also overflowed at such seasons; so that the river then becomes, in reality, the breadth of its valley. The grandeur of such a spectacle as a river, forty miles in breadth, descending to the ocean between banks of lofty cliffs, too far distant to be within each other's horizon, challenges a parallel. But, as this vast plain is covered with a forest, the lower half of which only is inundated, the width of the river remains as usual to the eye of the spectator on the cliffs, who will have to call in the aid of his imagination to realize, that in the bosom of the vast forest outspread beneath him rolls a river, to which, in breadth, the noble stream before him is but a rivulet. The interior hills, or ridges, mentioned above, are usually covered with pine; which is found only on such eminences, and in no other section of the southor west, except an isolated wood in Missouri, for more than fifteen hundred miles. The surface of the whole state is thus diversified with hills, with the exception of an occasional interval on the borders of a stream, or a few leagues of prairie in the north part of the state, covered with thin forests of stunted oaks. These hills rise and fall in regular undulations, clothed with forests of inconceivable majesty, springing from a rich, black loam, peculiarly fitted to the production of cotton; though, according to a late writer on this plant, "it flourishes with equal luxuriance in the black alluvial soil of Alatamaha and in the glowing sands of St. Simon's."[10]
The general features of this state have suggested the idea of an immense ploughed field, whose gigantic furrows intersect each other at various angles.—Imagine the hills, formed by these intersections, clothed with verdure, whitened with cotton fields, or covered with noble woods, with streams winding along in the deep ravines, repeatedly turning back upon their course, in their serpentine windings, before they disembogue into the Mississippi on the west, or the Pearl on the east, and you will have a rude though generally correct idea of the bolder features of this state.
A "plain," or extensive level expanse, which is not a marsh, forms, consequently, no part of its scenery, hill and hollow being its stronger characteristics. For a hilly country it presents one striking peculiarity. The surface of the forests, viewedfrom the bluffs, or from some superior elevation in the interior, presents one uniform horizontal level, with scarcely an undulation in the line to break the perspective. Particularly is this observable about a mile from Natchez, from the summit of a hill on the road to the village of Washington. Here an extensive forest scene lies east of the observer, to appearance a perfect level. But as he travels over hill and through ravine, anticipating a delightful prairie to lie before him, over which he may pace, (orcanter, if he be a northerner) at his ease, he will find that the promised plain, like themiragebefore the fainting Arabian, for ever eludes his path.
There is another remarkable feature in this country, peculiar to the whole region through which the lower Mississippi flows which I can illustrate no better than by resorting to the idea of a ploughed field. As many of these intersecting furrows, or ravines, terminate with the ridges that confine them, near the river, with whose medium tides they are nearly level, they are inundated by the periodical effluxes, which, flowing up into the land, find a passage through other furrows, and discharge into some stream, that suddenly overflows its banks; or winding sluggishly through the glens, cut deep channels for themselves in the argillaceous soil, and through a chain of ravines again unite with the Mississippi, after having created, by their surplus waters, numerous marshes along their borders, and leaving around their course innumerable pools of stagnant water, which become the home of the lazyalligator,[11]and the countless water-fowls which inhabit these regions. These inlets are properly bayous. They radiate from the Mississippi, in the state of Louisiana, in countless numbers, forming a net-work of inlets along its banks for fifty miles on either side, increasing in numbers and size near its mouth; so that, for many leagues above it, an inextricable tissue of lakes and inlets, or bayous, form communications and passes from the river to the Gulf,[12]"accessible," says Flint, "by small vessels and bay-craft, and impossible to be navigated, except bypilots perfectly acquainted with the waters." The entrance of some of these bayous, which are in the vicinity of Natchez, is fortified against the effluxes of the river bylevées, constructed from one highland to another; and by this means the bottom lands in the rear are protected from the overflow, and, when cultivated, produce fine crops of cotton. Inundations are also caused when the Mississippi is high, by its waters flowing up into the small rivers and creeks, whose natural level is many feet below the high water mark, till they find a level.—The water of these streams is consequently forced back upon itself, and, rising above its banks, overflows all the adjacent country. This "back-water," as it is termed, is more difficult to be resisted by levées than the effluxes of the bayous; and for the want of some successful means of opposing its force, some of the finest "bottom lands" in the state remain uncultivated, and covered with water and forest.
The smaller rivers and streams in this state are wild and narrow torrents, wholly unlike those placid streams which flow through New-England, lined with grassy or rocky banks, and rolling over a stony bottom, which can be discerned from many feet above it, through the transparent fluid. Here the banks of the streams are precipices, and entirely of clay or sand, and cave in after every rain, which suddenly raises these torrents many feet in a few minutes; and such often is their impetuosity, that if their banks are too high to be inundated, they cut out new channels for themselves; and a plantermay, not improbably, in the morning after a heavy rain, find an acre or more added to his fields from an adjoining estate; to be repaid, in kind, after another rain. In the dry season the water of these streams—which, with the exception of three or four of the large ones, are more properly conduits for the rain water that falls upon the hills, than permanent streams—is tolerably clear, though a transparent sheet of water larger than a spring, whether in motion or at rest, I have not seen in this state. After a rain they become turbid, like the Mississippi, impetuous in their course, and dangerous to travellers. Few of these streams are covered with bridges, as their banks dissolve, during a rain, almost as rapidly as banks of snow—so light is the earth of which they are composed—and the points from which bridges would spring are soon washed away. The streams are therefore usually forded; and as their beds are of the finest sand, and abound in quicksands, carriages and horses are often swallowed up in fording them, and lives are not unfrequently lost.
The roads throughout the state, with the exception of these fords, are very good, winding through fine natural scenery, past cultivated fields, and pleasant villages.
In the neighbourhood of these streams, on the hills, and in the vales throughout the state, springs of clear cold water abound. There is a deep spring on the grounds attached to Jefferson College in this state, whose water is so transparent, that to the eye, the bottom appears to be reflected through no other medium than the air. The water is of a very mildtemperature in the winter, and of an icy coolness in the summer. The spring is in a deep glen, surrounded by lofty trees, one of which, from its shape, branching from the root into two trunks, and uniting again in an extraordinary manner by a transverse limb, thirty feet from the ground, is called "St. Catharine's Harp," and is one among the natural curiosities of that vicinity. In the interior of the state are several mineral springs, which of late years have become very fashionable resorts for those who do not choose, like the majority of Mississippians, to spend their summers and money at the Kentucky, Virginian, or New-York springs. The waters of most of these springs are chalybeate, with a large proportion of sulphuric acid combined with the iron. The most celebrated are the Brandywine, romantically situated in a deep glen in the interior of the state, and the Bankston springs, two hour's ride from the capital. The constituent qualities of the waters, as ascertained by a recent chemical analysis, are sulphate of magnesia, sulphate of soda and sulphur, which exist in such a state of combination as to render the waters not disagreeable to the taste, yet sufficiently beneficial to the patient. They are said to act favourably upon most of the diseases of the climate, such as affections of the liver, bowels, cutaneous and chronic diseases, congestive and bilious fevers, debility, and numerous other ills "that flesh is heir to." The location is highly romantic and healthy. In the words of another—"the circumjacent country is for several miles covered with forests, of which pine is theprincipal growth; its surface is elevated and undulating, entirely free from stagnant waters, and other local causes of disease. The site of the springs is not inferior in beauty to any spot in the southern country. They are situated in a narrow plane, surrounded, on one side by an almost perpendicular bluff from which they flow, on the other, by a gentle declivity, dividing itself into two twin ridges; which, after describing a graceful curve, unite again at a point on which stands the principal building, one hundred feet in length, and on either of these ridges, is built a row of new and comfortable apartments. Through the centre of the grove, a path leads from the principal building to the spring, forming at all hours of the day, a delightful promenade. The water at the fountain, is exceedingly cool and exhilarating. A dome supported by neat columns, rises above the fountain, which, with the aid of the surrounding hills and overhanging forest, renders it at all times impervious to the sun. The roads, which during the summer season are always good, communicate in various directions with Port Gibson, Vicksburg, Jackson, Clinton, and Raymond, affording at all times good society. The forest abounds with deer and other game, the chase of which will afford a healthy amusement to those who may be tempted to join in it."
The mineral waters in the state are chiefly sulphurous and chalybeate, with the exception, I believe, of one or two of the saline class.
In the vicinity of these springs, and also on most of the water courses in the state, and, with but anexception or two, in these places alone, are found the only stones in the state. Rock is almost unknown. I have not seen even a stone, within fifteen miles of Natchez, larger than the third part of a brick, and those that I have seen were found in the pebbly bed of some stream. There is a stratum of pebbles from one to three feet thick extending through this state. It is variously waved, sometimes in a plane, and at others forming various angles of inclination, and at an irregular depth from the surface, according to the thickness of the superimposed masses of earth which are composed of clay, loam, and sand. This stratum is penetrated and torn up by the torrents, which strew their beds with the pebbles. There is no rock except a species of soft sand-stone south of latitude 32° north, in this state, except in Bayou Pierre, (the stony bayou) and a cliff at Grand Gulf, forty miles above Natchez. This last is composed of common carbonate of lime and silex, but the quantity of each has not been accurately determined.
The sand-stone alluded to above, is in the intermediate state between clay and stone, in which the process of petrifaction is still in progress. In the north-east portion of the state, this species of stone, whose basis is clay, is found in a more matured state of petrifaction. Perfect gravel is seldom met with here, even in the stratum of pebbles before mentioned. These resemble in properties and colour, the clay so abundant in this region; a great proportion of the gravel is composed of a petrifaction of clay and minute shells, of the mollusca tribe.I have found in the dry bed of the St. Catharine's, pebbles, entirely composed of thousands of the most delicately formed shells, some of which, of singularly beautiful figures, I have not before met with. Concave spiral cones, the regular discoid volute, cylinders, a circular shell, a tenth of an inch in diameter, formed by several concentric circles, and a delicate shell formed by spiral whorls, with fragments of various other minute shells, principally compose them. The variety of shells in this state is very limited. All that have been found here have their surfaces covered with the smooth olive-green epidermis, characteristic of fresh water shells, and are all very much eroded. Agates of singular beauty have also been discovered, and minute quartz crystals are found imbedded in the cavities of pebbles composed of alumina and grains of quartz. Mica and feldspar I have not met with. About two years ago, on the plantation of Robert Field, Esq. in the vicinity of the white cliffs, a gentleman picked up from the ground a large colourless rock crystal, with six sided prisms and a pyramidal termination of three faces. Curiosity led him to examine the spot, and after digging a few minutes beneath the surface, he found three more, of different sizes, two of them nearly perfect crystals, but the third was an irregular mass of colourless transparent quartz. This is the only instance of the discovery of this mineral in the state, and how these came to be on that spot, which is entirely argillaceous and at a great distance from any rocks or pebbles, is a problem. Pure flint is not found in this state, yet theplough-share turns up on some plantations, numerous arrow-heads, formed of this material, and there is also a species of stone, artificially formed, in size and shape precisely resembling the common wedge for cleaving wood, with the angles smoothly rounded. They are found all over the south-western country, and the negroes term them "thunder bolts;" but wiser heads have sagely determined their origin from the moon. Planters call them spear-heads, for which they were probably constructed by the aborigines. The stone of which they are made is not found in this country. Some of them I believe are composed of mica and quartz. Many of them are a variety of the mica and of a brown colour, sometimes inclining to green, and highly polished. I have seen some on a plantation near Natchez, of an iron black colour resembling polished pieces of black marble.
The several strata which compose this state are an upper layer of rich black loam from one to three feet thick, the accumulation of centuries, and a second stratum of clay several feet in thickness, beneath which are various substrata of loam and sand, similar to that which constitutes the islands and "bottoms" of the Mississippi. With the exception of the Yazoo, which flows through a delightful country rich in soil and magnificent with forests, along whose banks the Mississippians are opening a new theatre for the accumulation of wealth, and where villages spring up annually with the yearly harvest—and the Pearl—a turbid and rapid torrent whose banks are lined with fine plantations and beautifulvillages—this state boasts no rivers of any magnitude; and these, when compared with the great Mississippi, are but streams; and in their chief characteristics they nearly resemble it.
But I have gone as far into geology as the limits of a letter writer will permit. A volume might be written upon the physical features of this country, without exhausting a subject prolific in uncommon interest, or half surveying a field, scarcely yet examined by the geologist.[13]