FROM St. Louis northward there are all the enlivening signs ofthe presence of active, energetic, intelligent, prosperous, practicalnineteenth-century populations. The people don't dream, they work.
The happy result is manifest all around in the substantial outsideaspect of things, and the suggestions of wholesome life and comfortthat everywhere appear.
Quincy is a notable example--a brisk, handsome, well-ordered city;and now, as formerly, interested in art, letters, and other high things.
But Marion City is an exception. Marion City has gone backwardsin a most unaccountable way. This metropolis promisedso well that the projectors tacked 'city' to its name in thevery beginning, with full confidence; but it was bad prophecy.
When I first saw Marion City, thirty-five years ago,it contained one street, and nearly or quite six houses.
It contains but one house now, and this one, in a state of ruin,is getting ready to follow the former five into the river.
Doubtless Marion City was too near to Quincy. It hadanother disadvantage: it was situated in a flat mud bottom,below high-water mark, whereas Quincy stands high up on the slopeof a hill.
In the beginning Quincy had the aspect and ways of a model New England town:
and these she has yet: broad, clean streets, trim, neat dwellingsand lawns, fine mansions, stately blocks of commercial buildings.
And there are ample fair-grounds, a well kept park, and manyattractive drives; library, reading-rooms, a couple of colleges,some handsome and costly churches, and a grand court-house, with groundswhich occupy a square. The population of the city is thirty thousand.
There are some large factories here, and manufacturing, of many sorts,is done on a great scale.
La Grange and Canton are growing towns, but I missed Alexandria;was told it was under water, but would come up to blow in the summer.
Keokuk was easily recognizable. I lived there in 1857--an extraordinaryyear there in real-estate matters. The 'boom' was something wonderful.
Everybody bought, everybody sold--except widows and preachers;they always hold on; and when the tide ebbs, they get left.
Anything in the semblance of a town lot, no matter how situated,was salable, and at a figure which would still have been high if the groundhad been sodded with greenbacks.
The town has a population of fifteen thousand now, and is progressing witha healthy growth. It was night, and we could not see details, for which wewere sorry, for Keokuk has the reputation of being a beautiful city.
It was a pleasant one to live in long ago, and doubtless has advanced,not retrograded, in that respect.
A mighty work which was in progress there in my day is finished now.
This is the canal over the Rapids. It is eight miles long,three hundred feet wide, and is in no place less than six feet deep.
Its masonry is of the majestic kind which the War Departmentusually deals in, and will endure like a Roman aqueduct.
The work cost four or five millions.
After an hour or two spent with former friends, we started upthe river again. Keokuk, a long time ago, was an occasionalloafing-place of that erratic genius, Henry Clay Dean.
I believe I never saw him but once; but he was much talked ofwhen I lived there. This is what was said of him--He began life poor and without education. But he educated himself--on the curbstones of Keokuk. He would sit down on a curbstonewith his book, careless or unconscious of the clatter of commerceand the tramp of the passing crowds, and bury himself in hisstudies by the hour, never changing his position except to drawin his knees now and then to let a dray pass unobstructed;and when his book was finished, its contents, however abstruse,had been burnt into his memory, and were his permanent possession.
In this way he acquired a vast hoard of all sorts of learning,and had it pigeon-holed in his head where he could put his intellectualhand on it whenever it was wanted.
His clothes differed in no respect from a 'wharf-rat's,' except thatthey were raggeder, more ill-assorted and inharmonious (and thereforemore extravagantly picturesque), and several layers dirtier.
Nobody could infer the master-mind in the top of that edifice fromthe edifice itself.
He was an orator--by nature in the first place, and later by the trainingof experience and practice. When he was out on a canvass, his name wasa lodestone which drew the farmers to his stump from fifty miles around.
His theme was always politics. He used no notes, for a volcano doesnot need notes. In 1862, a son of Keokuk's late distinguished citizen,Mr. Claggett, gave me this incident concerning Dean--The war feeling was running high in Keokuk (in '61), and a greatmass meeting was to be held on a certain day in the new Athenaeum.
A distinguished stranger was to address the house.
After the building had been packed to its utmost capacity withsweltering folk of both sexes, the stage still remained vacant--the distinguished stranger had failed to connect.
The crowd grew impatient, and by and by indignant and rebellious.
About this time a distressed manager discovered Dean on a curb-stone,explained the dilemma to him, took his book away from him,rushed him into the building the back way, and told him to makefor the stage and save his country.
Presently a sudden silence fell upon the grumbling audience, and everybody'seyes sought a single point--the wide, empty, carpetless stage. A figureappeared there whose aspect was familiar to hardly a dozen persons present.
It was the scarecrow Dean--in foxy shoes, down at the heels; socks ofodd colors, also 'down;' damaged trousers, relics of antiquity, and a worldtoo short, exposing some inches of naked ankle; an unbuttoned vest,also too short, and exposing a zone of soiled and wrinkled linenbetween it and the waistband; shirt bosom open; long black handkerchief,wound round and round the neck like a bandage; bob-tailed blue coat,reaching down to the small of the back, with sleeves which left fourinches of forearm unprotected; small, stiff-brimmed soldier-cap hung ona corner of the bump of--whichever bump it was. This figure moved gravelyout upon the stage and, with sedate and measured step, down to the front,where it paused, and dreamily inspected the house, saying no word.
The silence of surprise held its own for a moment, then was broken by a justaudible ripple of merriment which swept the sea of faces like the washof a wave. The figure remained as before, thoughtfully inspecting.
Another wave started--laughter, this time. It was followed by another,then a third--this last one boisterous.
And now the stranger stepped back one pace, took off his soldier-cap,tossed it into the wing, and began to speak, with deliberation,nobody listening, everybody laughing and whispering.
The speaker talked on unembarrassed, and presently delivereda shot which went home, and silence and attention resulted.
He followed it quick and fast, with other telling things; warmed tohis work and began to pour his words out, instead of dripping them;grew hotter and hotter, and fell to discharging lightningsand thunder--and now the house began to break into applause,to which the speaker gave no heed, but went hammering straight on;unwound his black bandage and cast it away, still thundering;presently discarded the bob tailed coat and flung it aside,firing up higher and higher all the time; finally flung the vestafter the coat; and then for an untimed period stood there,like another Vesuvius, spouting smoke and flame, lava and ashes,raining pumice-stone and cinders, shaking the moral earth withintellectual crash upon crash, explosion upon explosion, while the madmultitude stood upon their feet in a solid body, answering backwith a ceaseless hurricane of cheers, through a thrashing snowstormof waving handkerchiefs.
'When Dean came,' said Claggett, 'the people thoughthe was an escaped lunatic; but when he went, they thoughthe was an escaped archangel.'
Burlington, home of the sparkling Burdette, is another hill city;and also a beautiful one; unquestionably so; a fine and flourishing city,with a population of twenty-five thousand, and belted with busy factoriesof nearly every imaginable description. It was a very sober city, too--for the moment--for a most sobering bill was pending; a bill to forbidthe manufacture, exportation, importation, purchase, sale, borrowing,lending, stealing, drinking, smelling, or possession, by conquest,inheritance, intent, accident, or otherwise, in the State of Iowa, of eachand every deleterious beverage known to the human race, except water.
This measure was approved by all the rational people in the State;but not by the bench of Judges.
Burlington has the progressive modern city's full equipment of devicesfor right and intelligent government; including a paid fire department,a thing which the great city of New Orleans is without, but still employsthat relic of antiquity, the independent system.
In Burlington, as in all these Upper-River towns, one breathesa go-ahead atmosphere which tastes good in the nostrils.
An opera-house has lately been built there which is in strongcontrast with the shabby dens which usually do duty as theatersin cities of Burlington's size.
We had not time to go ashore in Muscatine, but had a daylightview of it from the boat. I lived there awhile, many years ago,but the place, now, had a rather unfamiliar look; so Isuppose it has clear outgrown the town which I used to know.
In fact, I know it has; for I remember it as a small place--which it isn't now. But I remember it best for a lunaticwho caught me out in the fields, one Sunday, and extracteda butcher-knife from his boot and proposed to carve me up with it,unless I acknowledged him to be the only son of the Devil.
I tried to compromise on an acknowledgment that he was the onlymember of the family I had met; but that did not satisfy him;he wouldn't have any half-measures; I must say he was the soleand only son of the Devil--he whetted his knife on his boot.
It did not seem worth while to make trouble about a little thinglike that; so I swung round to his view of the matter and savedmy skin whole. Shortly afterward, he went to visit his father;and as he has not turned up since, I trust he is there yet.
And I remember Muscatine--still more pleasantly--for its summer sunsets.
I have never seen any, on either side of the ocean, that equaled them.
They used the broad smooth river as a canvas, and painted on it everyimaginable dream of color, from the mottled daintinesses and delicaciesof the opal, all the way up, through cumulative intensities, to blindingpurple and crimson conflagrations which were enchanting to the eye,but sharply tried it at the same time. All the Upper Mississippiregion has these extraordinary sunsets as a familiar spectacle.
It is the true Sunset Land: I am sure no other country can show so gooda right to the name. The sunrises are also said to be exceedingly fine.
I do not know.
THE big towns drop in, thick and fast, now: and between stretchprocessions of thrifty farms, not desolate solitude. Hour by hour,the boat plows deeper and deeper into the great and populous North-west;and with each successive section of it which is revealed,one's surprise and respect gather emphasis and increase.
Such a people, and such achievements as theirs, compel homage.
This is an independent race who think for themselves, and who arecompetent to do it, because they are educated and enlightened;they read, they keep abreast of the best and newest thought,they fortify every weak place in their land with a school,a college, a library, and a newspaper; and they live under law.
Solicitude for the future of a race like this is not in order.
This region is new; so new that it may be said to be still in its babyhood.
By what it has accomplished while still teething, one may forecastwhat marvels it will do in the strength of its maturity. It is so newthat the foreign tourist has not heard of it yet; and has not visited it.
For sixty years, the foreign tourist has steamed up and down the riverbetween St. Louis and New Orleans, and then gone home and written his book,believing he had seen all of the river that was worth seeing or thathad anything to see. In not six of all these books is there mentionof these Upper River towns--for the reason that the five or six touristswho penetrated this region did it before these towns were projected.
The latest tourist of them all (1878) made the same old regulation trip--he had not heard that there was anything north of St. Louis.
Yet there was. There was this amazing region, bristling with great towns,projected day before yesterday, so to speak, and built next morning.
A score of them number from fifteen hundred to five thousand people.
Then we have Muscatine, ten thousand; Winona, ten thousand; Moline,ten thousand; Rock Island, twelve thousand; La Crosse, twelve thousand;Burlington, twenty-five thousand; Dubuque, twenty-five thousand;Davenport, thirty thousand; St. Paul, fifty-eight thousand, Minneapolis,sixty thousand and upward.
The foreign tourist has never heard of these; there is no note of themin his books. They have sprung up in the night, while he slept.
So new is this region, that I, who am comparatively young,am yet older than it is. When I was born, St. Paul had a populationof three persons, Minneapolis had just a third as many.
The then population of Minneapolis died two years ago; and whenhe died he had seen himself undergo an increase, in forty years,of fifty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine persons.
He had a frog's fertility.
I must explain that the figures set down above, as the population of St. Pauland Minneapolis, are several months old. These towns are far larger now.
In fact, I have just seen a newspaper estimate which gives the formerseventy-one thousand, and the latter seventy-eight thousand.
This book will not reach the public for six or seven months yet;none of the figures will be worth much then.
We had a glimpse of Davenport, which is another beautiful city,crowning a hill--a phrase which applies to all these towns; for theyare all comely, all well built, clean, orderly, pleasant to the eye,and cheering to the spirit; and they are all situated upon hills.
Therefore we will give that phrase a rest. The Indians have a traditionthat Marquette and Joliet camped where Davenport now stands, in 1673.
The next white man who camped there, did it about a hundred and seventyyears later--in 1834. Davenport has gathered its thirty thousandpeople within the past thirty years. She sends more children to herschools now, than her whole population numbered twenty-three years ago.
She has the usual Upper River quota of factories, newspapers,and institutions of learning; she has telephones, local telegraphs,an electric alarm, and an admirable paid fire department,consisting of six hook and ladder companies, four steam fire engines,and thirty churches. Davenport is the official residence of two bishops--Episcopal and Catholic.
Opposite Davenport is the flourishing town of Rock Island,which lies at the foot of the Upper Rapids. A great railroadbridge connects the two towns--one of the thirteen which fretthe Mississippi and the pilots, between St. Louis and St. Paul.
The charming island of Rock Island, three miles long and halfa mile wide, belongs to the United States, and the Government hasturned it into a wonderful park, enhancing its natural attractionsby art, and threading its fine forests with many miles of drives.
Near the center of the island one catches glimpses, through the trees,of ten vast stone four-story buildings, each of which covers an acreof ground. These are the Government workshops; for the Rock Islandestablishment is a national armory and arsenal.
We move up the river--always through enchanting scenery,there being no other kind on the Upper Mississippi--and pass Moline, a center of vast manufacturing industries;and Clinton and Lyons, great lumber centers; and presentlyreach Dubuque, which is situated in a rich mineral region.
The lead mines are very productive, and of wide extent.
Dubuque has a great number of manufacturing establishments; among thema plow factory which has for customers all Christendom in general.
At least so I was told by an agent of the concern who was onthe boat. He said--'You show me any country under the sun where they really know how to plow,and if I don't show you our mark on the plow they use, I'll eat that plow;and I won't ask for any Woostershyre sauce to flavor it up with, either.'
All this part of the river is rich in Indian history and traditions.
Black Hawk's was once a puissant name hereabouts; as was Keokuk's,further down. A few miles below Dubuque is the Tete de Mort--Death's-head rock, or bluff--to the top of which the French drovea band of Indians, in early times, and cooped them up there,with death for a certainty, and only the manner of it matterof choice--to starve, or jump off and kill themselves.
Black Hawk adopted the ways of the white people, toward the endof his life; and when he died he was buried, near Des Moines,in Christian fashion, modified by Indian custom; that is to say,clothed in a Christian military uniform, and with a Christian canein his hand, but deposited in the grave in a sitting posture.
Formerly, a horse had always been buried with a chief.
The substitution of the cane shows that Black Hawk's haughty naturewas really humbled, and he expected to walk when he got over.
We noticed that above Dubuque the water of the Mississippi wasolive-green--rich and beautiful and semi-transparent, with the sun on it.
Of course the water was nowhere as clear or of as fine a complexion as itis in some other seasons of the year; for now it was at flood stage,and therefore dimmed and blurred by the mud manufactured from caving banks.
The majestic bluffs that overlook the river, along through this region,charm one with the grace and variety of their forms, and the softbeauty of their adornment. The steep verdant slope, whose baseis at the water's edge is topped by a lofty rampart of broken,turreted rocks, which are exquisitely rich and mellow in color--mainly dark browns and dull greens, but splashed with other tints.
And then you have the shining river, winding here and there and yonder,its sweep interrupted at intervals by clusters of wooded islandsthreaded by silver channels; and you have glimpses of distant villages,asleep upon capes; and of stealthy rafts slipping along in the shadeof the forest walls; and of white steamers vanishing around remote points.
And it is all as tranquil and reposeful as dreamland, and has nothingthis-worldly about it--nothing to hang a fret or a worry upon.
Until the unholy train comes tearing along--which it presently does,ripping the sacred solitude to rags and tatters with its devil'swarwhoop and the roar and thunder of its rushing wheels--and straightwayyou are back in this world, and with one of its frets ready to handfor your entertainment: for you remember that this is the very roadwhose stock always goes down after you buy it, and always goes upagain as soon as you sell it. It makes me shudder to this day,to remember that I once came near not getting rid of my stock at all.
It must be an awful thing to have a railroad left on your hands.
The locomotive is in sight from the deck of the steamboat almostthe whole way from St. Louis to St. Paul--eight hundred miles.
These railroads have made havoc with the steamboat commerce.
The clerk of our boat was a steamboat clerk before these roadswere built. In that day the influx of population was so great,and the freight business so heavy, that the boats were not ableto keep up with the demands made upon their carrying capacity;consequently the captains were very independent and airy--pretty 'biggity,' as Uncle Remus would say. The clerk nut-shelled thecontrast between the former time and the present, thus--'Boat used to land--captain on hurricane roof--mighty stiff and straight--iron ramrod for a spine--kid gloves, plug tile, hair parted behind--man on shore takes off hat and says--' "Got twenty-eight tons of wheat, cap'n--be great favor if youcan take them."'Captain says--' " 'll take two of them"--and don't even condescend to look at him.
'But nowadays the captain takes off his old slouch, and smilesall the way around to the back of his ears, and gets off a bowwhich he hasn't got any ramrod to interfere with, and says--' "Glad to see you, Smith, glad to see you--you're looking well--haven't seen you looking so well for years--what you got for us?"' "Nuth'n", says Smith; and keeps his hat on, and just turnshis back and goes to talking with somebody else.
'Oh, yes, eight years ago, the captain was on top; but it's Smith's turn now.
Eight years ago a boat used to go up the river with every stateroom full,and people piled five and six deep on the cabin floor; and a soliddeck-load of immigrants and harvesters down below, into the bargain.
To get a first-class stateroom, you'd got to prove sixteen quarteringsof nobility and four hundred years of descent, or be personallyacquainted with the nigger that blacked the captain's boots.
But it's all changed now; plenty staterooms above, no harvesters below--there's a patent self-binder now, and they don't have harvestersany more; they've gone where the woodbine twineth--and they didn't goby steamboat, either; went by the train.'
Up in this region we met massed acres of lumber rafts coming down--but not floating leisurely along, in the old-fashioned way,manned with joyous and reckless crews of fiddling,song-singing, whiskey-drinking, breakdown-dancing rapscallions;no, the whole thing was shoved swiftly along by a powerfulstern-wheeler, modern fashion, and the small crews were quiet,orderly men, of a sedate business aspect, with not a suggestionof romance about them anywhere.
Along here, somewhere, on a black night, we ran some exceedinglynarrow and intricate island-chutes by aid of the electric light.
Behind was solid blackness--a crackless bank of it; ahead, a narrowelbow of water, curving between dense walls of foliage that almosttouched our bows on both sides; and here every individual leaf,and every individual ripple stood out in its natural color,and flooded with a glare as of noonday intensified.
The effect was strange, and fine, and very striking.
We passed Prairie du Chien, another of Father Marquette's camping-places;and after some hours of progress through varied and beautiful scenery,reached La Crosse. Here is a town of twelve or thirteen thousand population,with electric lighted streets, and with blocks of buildings which are statelyenough, and also architecturally fine enough, to command respect in any city.
It is a choice town, and we made satisfactory use of the hour allowed us,in roaming it over, though the weather was rainier than necessary.
WE added several passengers to our list, at La Crosse; among othersan old gentleman who had come to this north-western regionwith the early settlers, and was familiar with every part of it.
Pardonably proud of it, too. He said--'You'll find scenery between here and St. Paul that can givethe Hudson points. You'll have the Queen's Bluff--seven hundredfeet high, and just as imposing a spectacle as you can find anywheres;and Trempeleau Island, which isn't like any other island in America,I believe, for it is a gigantic mountain, with precipitous sides,and is full of Indian traditions, and used to be full of rattlesnakes;if you catch the sun just right there, you will have a picture thatwill stay with you. And above Winona you'll have lovely prairies;and then come the Thousand Islands, too beautiful for anything;green? why you never saw foliage so green, nor packed so thick;it's like a thousand plush cushions afloat on a looking-glass--when the water 's still; and then the monstrous bluffs on both sides ofthe river--ragged, rugged, dark-complected--just the frame that's wanted;you always want a strong frame, you know, to throw up the nice pointsof a delicate picture and make them stand out.'
The old gentleman also told us a touching Indian legend or two--but not very powerful ones.
After this excursion into history, he came back to the scenery,and described it, detail by detail, from the Thousand Islandsto St. Paul; naming its names with such facility, tripping alonghis theme with such nimble and confident ease, slamming in athree-ton word, here and there, with such a complacent air of 'tisn't-anything,-I-can-do-it-any-time-I-want-to, and letting offfine surprises of lurid eloquence at such judicious intervals,that I presently began to suspect--But no matter what I began to suspect. Hear him--'Ten miles above Winona we come to Fountain City, nestling sweetly at the feetof cliffs that lift their awful fronts, Jovelike, toward the blue depthsof heaven, bathing them in virgin atmospheres that have known no other contactsave that of angels' wings.
'And next we glide through silver waters, amid lovely and stupendousaspects of nature that attune our hearts to adoring admiration,about twelve miles, and strike Mount Vernon, six hundred feet high,with romantic ruins of a once first-class hotel perchedfar among the cloud shadows that mottle its dizzy heights--sole remnant of once-flourishing Mount Vernon, town of early days,now desolate and utterly deserted.
'And so we move on. Past Chimney Rock we fly--noble shaft of sixhundred feet; then just before landing at Minnieska our attention isattracted by a most striking promontory rising over five hundred feet--the ideal mountain pyramid. Its conic shape--thickly-wooded surfacegirding its sides, and its apex like that of a cone, cause the spectatorto wonder at nature's workings. From its dizzy heights superb viewsof the forests, streams, bluffs, hills and dales below and beyondfor miles are brought within its focus. What grander river scenerycan be conceived, as we gaze upon this enchanting landscape,from the uppermost point of these bluffs upon the valleys below?
The primeval wildness and awful loneliness of these sublime creationsof nature and nature's God, excite feelings of unbounded admiration,and the recollection of which can never be effaced from the memory,as we view them in any direction.
'Next we have the Lion's Head and the Lioness's Head, carved bynature's hand, to adorn and dominate the beauteous stream;and then anon the river widens, and a most charming and magnificentview of the valley before us suddenly bursts upon our vision;rugged hills, clad with verdant forests from summit to base,level prairie lands, holding in their lap the beautiful Wabasha,City of the Healing Waters, puissant foe of Bright's disease,and that grandest conception of nature's works, incomparable Lake Pepin--these constitute a picture whereon the tourist's eye may gazeuncounted hours, with rapture unappeased and unappeasable.
'And so we glide along; in due time encountering those majestic domes,the mighty Sugar Loaf, and the sublime Maiden's Rock--which latter,romantic superstition has invested with a voice; and oft-timesas the birch canoe glides near, at twilight, the dusky paddlerfancies he hears the soft sweet music of the long-departed Winona,darling of Indian song and story.
'Then Frontenac looms upon our vision, delightful resort of jadedsummer tourists; then progressive Red Wing; and Diamond Bluff, impressive andpreponderous in its lone sublimity; then Prescott and the St. Croix;and anon we see bursting upon us the domes and steeples of St. Paul,giant young chief of the North, marching with seven-league stride inthe van of progress, banner-bearer of the highest and newest civilization,carving his beneficent way with the tomahawk of commercial enterprise,sounding the warwhoop of Christian culture, tearing off the reeking scalpof sloth and superstition to plant there the steam-plow and the school-house--ever in his front stretch arid lawlessness, ignorance, crime, despair;ever in his wake bloom the jail, the gallows, and the pulpit; and ever----'
'Have you ever traveled with a panorama?'
'I have formerly served in that capacity.'
My suspicion was confirmed.
'Do you still travel with it?'
'No, she is laid up till the fall season opens. I am helping now to work upthe materials for a Tourist's Guide which the St. Louis and St. Paul PacketCompany are going to issue this summer for the benefit of travelers who goby that line.'
'When you were talking of Maiden's Rock, you spoke ofthe long-departed Winona, darling of Indian song and story.
Is she the maiden of the rock?--and are the two connected by legend?'
'Yes, and a very tragic and painful one. Perhaps the most celebrated,as well as the most pathetic, of all the legends of the Mississippi.'
We asked him to tell it. He dropped out of his conversationalvein and back into his lecture-gait without an effort,and rolled on as follows--'A little distance above Lake City is a famous point knownas Maiden's Rock, which is not only a picturesque spot, but isfull of romantic interest from the event which gave it its name,Not many years ago this locality was a favorite resort for the SiouxIndians on account of the fine fishing and hunting to be had there,and large numbers of them were always to be found in this locality.
Among the families which used to resort here, was one belongingto the tribe of Wabasha. We-no-na (first-born) was the nameof a maiden who had plighted her troth to a lover belongingto the same band. But her stern parents had promised her handto another, a famous warrior, and insisted on her wedding him.
The day was fixed by her parents, to her great grief.
She appeared to accede to the proposal and accompany them tothe rock, for the purpose of gathering flowers for the feast.
On reaching the rock, We-no-na ran to its summit and standing onits edge upbraided her parents who were below, for their cruelty,and then singing a death-dirge, threw herself from the precipice anddashed them in pieces on the rock below.'
'Dashed who in pieces--her parents?'
'Yes.'
'Well, it certainly was a tragic business, as you say.
And moreover, there is a startling kind of dramatic surpriseabout it which I was not looking for. It is a distinctimprovement upon the threadbare form of Indian legend.
There are fifty Lover's Leaps along the Mississippi from whosesummit disappointed Indian girls have jumped, but this is the onlyjump in the lot hat turned out in the right and satisfactory way.
What became of Winona?'
'She was a good deal jarred up and jolted: but she got herselftogether and disappeared before the coroner reached the fatal spot;and 'tis said she sought and married her true love, and wanderedwith him to some distant clime, where she lived happy ever after,her gentle spirit mellowed and chastened by the romantic incidentwhich had so early deprived her of the sweet guidance of a mother'slove and a father's protecting arm, and thrown her, all unfriended,upon the cold charity of a censorious world.'
I was glad to hear the lecturer's description of the scenery,for it assisted my appreciation of what I saw of it, and enabledme to imagine such of it as we lost by the intrusion of night.
As the lecturer remarked, this whole region is blanketed with Indiantales and traditions. But I reminded him that people usually merelymention this fact--doing it in a way to make a body's mouth water--and judiciously stopped there. Why? Because the impression left,was that these tales were full of incident and imagination--a pleasantimpression which would be promptly dissipated if the tales were told.
I showed him a lot of this sort of literature which I had been collecting,and he confessed that it was poor stuff, exceedingly sorry rubbish;and I ventured to add that the legends which he had himself told uswere of this character, with the single exception of the admirablestory of Winona. He granted these facts, but said that if I wouldhunt up Mr. Schoolcraft's book, published near fifty years ago,and now doubtless out of print, I would find some Indian inventionsin it that were very far from being barren of incident and imagination;that the tales in Hiawatha were of this sort, and they came fromSchoolcraft's book; and that there were others in the same bookwhich Mr. Longfellow could have turned into verse with good effect.
For instance, there was the legend of 'The Undying Head.'
He could not tell it, for many of the details had grown dimin his memory; but he would recommend me to find it and enlargemy respect for the Indian imagination. He said that this tale,and most of the others in the book, were current among the Indiansalong this part of the Mississippi when he first came here;and that the contributors to Schoolcraft's book had got them directlyfrom Indian lips, and had written them down with strict exactness,and without embellishments of their own.
I have found the book. The lecturer was right. There are severallegends in it which confirm what he said. I will offer two of them--'TheUndying Head,' and 'Peboan and Seegwun, an Allegory of the Seasons.'
The latter is used in Hiawatha; but it is worth reading in the original form,if only that one may see how effective a genuine poem can be withoutthe helps and graces of poetic measure and rhythm--PEBOAN AND SEEGWUN.
An old man was sitting alone in his lodge, by the sideof a frozen stream. It was the close of winter, and his firewas almost out, He appeared very old and very desolate.
His locks were white with age, and he trembled in every joint.
Day after day passed in solitude, and he heard nothing but the soundof the tempest, sweeping before it the new-fallen snow.
One day, as his fire was just dying, a handsome young man approachedand entered his dwelling. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth,his eyes sparkled with animation, and a smile played upon his lips.
He walked with a light and quick step. His forehead was boundwith a wreath of sweet grass, in place of a warrior's frontlet,and he carried a bunch of flowers in his hand.
'Ah, my son,' said the old man, 'I am happy to see you.
Come in. Come and tell me of your adventures, and what strangelands you have been to see. Let us pass the night together.
I will tell you of my prowess and exploits, and what I can perform.
You shall do the same, and we will amuse ourselves.'
He then drew from his sack a curiously wrought antique pipe,and having filled it with tobacco, rendered mild by a mixtureof certain leaves, handed it to his guest. When this ceremonywas concluded they began to speak.
'I blow my breath,' said the old man, 'and the stream stands still.
The water becomes stiff and hard as clear stone.'
'I breathe,' said the young man, 'and flowers spring up over the plain.'
'I shake my locks,' retorted the old man, 'and snow covers the land.
The leaves fall from the trees at my command, and my breath blows them away.
The birds get up from the water, and fly to a distant land.
The animals hide themselves from my breath, and the very ground becomes ashard as flint.'
'I shake my ringlets,' rejoined the young man, 'and warm showersof soft rain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their headsout of the earth, like the eyes of children glistening with delight.
My voice recalls the birds. The warmth of my breath unlocks the streams.
Music fills the groves wherever I walk, and all nature rejoices.'
At length the sun began to rise. A gentle warmth cameover the place. The tongue of the old man became silent.
The robin and bluebird began to sing on the top of the lodge.
The stream began to murmur by the door, and the fragrance of growingherbs and flowers came softly on the vernal breeze.
Daylight fully revealed to the young man the character of his entertainer.
When he looked upon him, he had the icy visage of Peboan.
[Winter.]> Streams began to flow from his eyes. As the sun increased,he grew less and less in stature, and anon had melted completely away.
Nothing remained on the place of his lodge-fire but the miskodeed,[The trailing arbutus.]> a small white flower, with a pink border, which isone of the earliest species of northern plants.
'The Undying Head' is a rather long tale, but it makes up in weird conceits,fairy-tale prodigies, variety of incident, and energy of movement,for what it lacks in brevity.
Speculations and ConclusionsWE reached St. Paul, at the head of navigation of the Mississippi,and there our voyage of two thousand miles from New Orleans ended. It isabout a ten-day trip by steamer. It can probably be done quicker by rail.
I judge so because I know that one may go by rail from St. Louis to Hannibal--a distance of at least a hundred and twenty miles--in seven hours.
This is better than walking; unless one is in a hurry.
The season being far advanced when we were in New Orleans, the rosesand magnolia blossoms were falling; but here in St. Paul it was the snow,In New Orleans we had caught an occasional withering breath from overa crater, apparently; here in St. Paul we caught a frequent benumbingone from over a glacier, apparently.
But I wander from my theme. St. Paul is a wonderful town.
It is put together in solid blocks of honest brick and stone,and has the air of intending to stay. Its post-office was establishedthirty-six years ago; and by and by, when the postmaster receiveda letter, he carried it to Washington, horseback, to inquire whatwas to be done with it. Such is the legend. Two frame houses werebuilt that year, and several persons were added to the population.
A recent number of the leading St. Paul paper, the 'Pioneer Press,'
gives some statistics which furnish a vivid contrast to that oldstate of things, to wit: Population, autumn of the present year(1882), 71,000; number of letters handled, first half ofthe year, 1,209,387; number of houses built during three-quartersof the year, 989; their cost, $3,186,000. The increase of lettersover the corresponding six months of last year was fifty per cent.
Last year the new buildings added to the city cost above $4,500,000.
St. Paul's strength lies in her commerce--I mean his commerce.
He is a manufacturing city, of course--all the cities of thatregion are--but he is peculiarly strong in the matter of commerce.
Last year his jobbing trade amounted to upwards of $52,000,000.
He has a custom-house, and is building a costly capitol to replacethe one recently burned--for he is the capital of the State.
He has churches without end; and not the cheap poor kind,but the kind that the rich Protestant puts up, the kind thatthe poor Irish 'hired-girl' delights to erect. What a passionfor building majestic churches the Irish hired-girl has.
It is a fine thing for our architecture but too often we enjoyher stately fanes without giving her a grateful thought.
In fact, instead of reflecting that 'every brick and every stonein this beautiful edifice represents an ache or a pain, and a handfulof sweat, and hours of heavy fatigue, contributed by the backand forehead and bones of poverty,' it is our habit to forgetthese things entirely, and merely glorify the mighty temple itself,without vouchsafing one praiseful thought to its humble builder,whose rich heart and withered purse it symbolizes.
This is a land of libraries and schools. St. Paul has three public libraries,and they contain, in the aggregate, some forty thousand books.
He has one hundred and sixteen school-houses, and pays out more thanseventy thousand dollars a year in teachers' salaries.
There is an unusually fine railway station; so large is it,in fact, that it seemed somewhat overdone, in the matterof size, at first; but at the end of a few months it wasperceived that the mistake was distinctly the other way.
The error is to be corrected.
The town stands on high ground; it is about seven hundred feetabove the sea level. It is so high that a wide view of riverand lowland is offered from its streets.
It is a very wonderful town indeed, and is not finished yet.
All the streets are obstructed with building material,and this is being compacted into houses as fast as possible,to make room for more--for other people are anxious to build,as soon as they can get the use of the streets to pile up their bricksand stuff in.
How solemn and beautiful is the thought, that the earliest pioneerof civilization, the van-leader of civilization, is never the steamboat,never the railroad, never the newspaper, never the Sabbath-school,never the missionary--but always whiskey! Such is the case.
Look history over; you will see. The missionary comes after the whiskey--I mean he arrives after the whiskey has arrived; next comesthe poor immigrant, with ax and hoe and rifle; next, the trader;next, the miscellaneous rush; next, the gambler, the desperado,the highwayman, and all their kindred in sin of both sexes; and next,the smart chap who has bought up an old grant that covers all the land;this brings the lawyer tribe; the vigilance committee brings the undertaker.
All these interests bring the newspaper; the newspaper starts up politicsand a railroad; all hands turn to and build a church and a jail--and behold, civilization is established for ever in the land.
But whiskey, you see, was the van-leader in this beneficent work.
It always is. It was like a foreigner--and excusable in a foreigner--to be ignorant of this great truth, and wander off into astronomyto borrow a symbol. But if he had been conversant with the facts,he would have said--Westward the Jug of Empire takes its way.
This great van-leader arrived upon the ground which St. Paul now occupies,in June 1837. Yes, at that date, Pierre Parrant, a Canadian, built thefirst cabin, uncorked his jug, and began to sell whiskey to the Indians.
The result is before us.
All that I have said of the newness, briskness, swift progress,wealth, intelligence, fine and substantial architecture,and general slash and go, and energy of St. Paul, will applyto his near neighbor, Minneapolis--with the additionthat the latter is the bigger of the two cities.
These extraordinary towns were ten miles apart, a few months ago,but were growing so fast that they may possibly be joined now,and getting along under a single mayor. At any rate, within five yearsfrom now there will be at least such a substantial ligament of buildingsstretching between them and uniting them that a stranger will not be ableto tell where the one Siamese twin leaves off and the other begins.
Combined, they will then number a population of two hundred andfifty thousand, if they continue to grow as they are now growing.
Thus, this center of population at the head of Mississippi navigation,will then begin a rivalry as to numbers, with that center of populationat the foot of it--New Orleans.
Minneapolis is situated at the falls of St. Anthony, which stretch acrossthe river, fifteen hundred feet, and have a fall of eighty-two feet--a waterpower which, by art, has been made of inestimable value,business-wise, though somewhat to the damage of the Falls as a spectacle,or as a background against which to get your photograph taken.
Thirty flouring-mills turn out two million barrels of the verychoicest of flour every year; twenty sawmills produce two hundredmillion feet of lumber annually; then there are woolen mills,cotton mills, paper and oil mills; and sash, nail, furniture,barrel, and other factories, without number, so to speak.
The great flouring-mills here and at St. Paul use the 'new process'
and mash the wheat by rolling, instead of grinding it.
Sixteen railroads meet in Minneapolis, and sixty-five passenger trains arriveand depart daily. In this place, as in St. Paul, journalism thrives.
Here there are three great dailies, ten weeklies, and three monthlies.
There is a university, with four hundred students--and, better still,its good efforts are not confined to enlightening the one sex.
There are sixteen public schools, with buildings which cost $500,000;there are six thousand pupils and one hundred and twenty-eight teachers.
There are also seventy churches existing, and a lot more projected.
The banks aggregate a capital of $3,000,000, and the wholesale jobbing tradeof the town amounts to $50,000,000 a year.
Near St. Paul and Minneapolis are several points of interest--Fort Snelling, a fortress occupying a river-bluff a hundredfeet high; the falls of Minnehaha, White-bear Lake, and so forth.
The beautiful falls of Minnehaha are sufficiently celebrated--they do not need a lift from me, in that direction.
The White-bear Lake is less known. It is a lovely sheet of water,and is being utilized as a summer resort by the wealth and fashionof the State. It has its club-house, and its hotel, with the modernimprovements and conveniences; its fine summer residences;and plenty of fishing, hunting, and pleasant drives.
There are a dozen minor summer resorts around about St. Pauland Minneapolis, but the White-bear Lake is the resort.
Connected with White-bear Lake is a most idiotic Indian legend.
I would resist the temptation to print it here, if I could,but the task is beyond my strength. The guide-book names the preserverof the legend, and compliments his 'facile pen.' Without furthercomment or delay then, let us turn the said facile pen looseupon the reader--A LEGEND OF WHITE-BEAR LAKE.
Every spring, for perhaps a century, or as long as there has been a nationof red men, an island in the middle of White-bear Lake has been visitedby a band of Indians for the purpose of making maple sugar.
Tradition says that many springs ago, while upon this island,a young warrior loved and wooed the daughter of his chief,and it is said, also, the maiden loved the warrior.
He had again and again been refused her hand by her parents,the old chief alleging that he was no brave, and his old consortcalled him a woman!
The sun had again set upon the 'sugar-bush,' and the bright moon rosehigh in the bright blue heavens, when the young warrior took down hisflute and went out alone, once more to sing the story of his love,the mild breeze gently moved the two gay feathers in his head-dress,and as he mounted on the trunk of a leaning tree, the damp snow fellfrom his feet heavily. As he raised his flute to his lips, his blanketslipped from his well-formed shoulders, and lay partly on the snow beneath.
He began his weird, wild love-song, but soon felt that he was cold,and as he reached back for his blanket, some unseen hand laid it gentlyon his shoulders; it was the hand of his love, his guardian angel.
She took her place beside him, and for the present they were happy;for the Indian has a heart to love, and in this pride he is as nobleas in his own freedom, which makes him the child of the forest.
As the legend runs, a large white-bear, thinking, perhaps, that polar snowsand dismal winter weather extended everywhere, took up his journey southward.
He at length approached the northern shore of the lake which now bearshis name, walked down the bank and made his way noiselessly throughthe deep heavy snow toward the island. It was the same spring ensuingthat the lovers met. They had left their first retreat, and were nowseated among the branches of a large elm which hung far over the lake.
(The same tree is still standing, and excites universal curiosityand interest.) For fear of being detected, they talked almost in a whisper,and now, that they might get back to camp in good time and therebyavoid suspicion, they were just rising to return, when the maiden uttereda shriek which was heard at the camp, and bounding toward the young brave,she caught his blanket, but missed the direction of her foot and fell,bearing the blanket with her into the great arms of the ferocious monster.
Instantly every man, woman, and child of the band were upon the bank,but all unarmed. Cries and wailings went up from every mouth.
What was to be done'? In the meantime this white and savage beast heldthe breathless maiden in his huge grasp, and fondled with his preciousprey as if he were used to scenes like this. One deafening yell fromthe lover warrior is heard above the cries of hundreds of his tribe,and dashing away to his wigwam he grasps his faithful knife,returns almost at a single bound to the scene of fear and fright,rushes out along the leaning tree to the spot where his treasure fell,and springing with the fury of a mad panther, pounced upon his prey.
The animal turned, and with one stroke of his huge paw broughtthe lovers heart to heart, but the next moment the warrior, with oneplunge of the blade of his knife, opened the crimson sluices of death,and the dying bear relaxed his hold.
That night there was no more sleep for the band or the lovers,and as the young and the old danced about the carcass of the dead monster,the gallant warrior was presented with another plume, and ereanother moon had set he had a living treasure added to his heart.
Their children for many years played upon the skin of the white-bear--from which the lake derives its name--and the maiden and the braveremembered long the fearful scene and rescue that made them one,for Kis-se-me-pa and Ka-go-ka could never forget their fearfulencounter with the huge monster that came so near sending them tothe happy hunting-ground.
It is a perplexing business. First, she fell down out of the tree--she and the blanket; and the bear caught her and fondled her--her and the blanket; then she fell up into the tree again--leaving the blanket; meantime the lover goes war-whoopinghome and comes back 'heeled,' climbs the tree, jumps down onthe bear, the girl jumps down after him--apparently, for shewas up the tree--resumes her place in the bear's arms alongwith the blanket, the lover rams his knife into the bear,and saves--whom, the blanket? No--nothing of the sort.
You get yourself all worked up and excited about that blanket,and then all of a sudden, just when a happy climax seemsimminent you are let down flat--nothing saved but the girl.
Whereas, one is not interested in the girl; she is notthe prominent feature of the legend. Nevertheless, there youare left, and there you must remain; for if you livea thousand years you will never know who got the blanket.
A dead man could get up a better legend than this one.
I don't mean a fresh dead man either; I mean a man that's been deadweeks and weeks.
We struck the home-trail now, and in a few hours were in thatastonishing Chicago--a city where they are always rubbing the lamp,and fetching up the genii, and contriving and achieving new impossibilities.
It is hopeless for the occasional visitor to try to keep up with Chicago--she outgrows his prophecies faster than he can make them.
She is always a novelty; for she is never the Chicago you saw when youpassed through the last time. The Pennsylvania road rushed us to NewYork without missing schedule time ten minutes anywhere on the route;and there ended one of the most enjoyable five-thousand-mile journeys I haveever had the good fortune to make.
APPENDIX A(FROM THE NEW ORLEANS TIMES DEMOCRAT OF MARCH 29, 1882.)VOYAGE OF THE TIMES-DEMOCRAT'S RELIEF BOAT THROUGH THE INUNDATEDREGIONSIT was nine o'clock Thursday morning when the 'Susie'
left the Mississippi and entered Old River, or what isnow called the mouth of the Red. Ascending on the left,a flood was pouring in through and over the levees onthe Chandler plantation, the most northern point in PointeCoupee parish. The water completely covered the place,although the levees had given way but a short time before.
The stock had been gathered in a large flat-boat, where,without food, as we passed, the animals were huddled together,waiting for a boat to tow them off. On the right-hand sideof the river is Turnbull's Island, and on it is a large plantationwhich formerly was pronounced one of the most fertile in the State.
The water has hitherto allowed it to go scot-free in usual floods,but now broad sheets of water told only where fields were.
The top of the protecting levee could be seen here and there,but nearly all of it was submerged.
The trees have put on a greener foliage since the water has poured in,and the woods look bright and fresh, but this pleasant aspect to the eyeis neutralized by the interminable waste of water. We pass mile after mile,and it is nothing but trees standing up to their branches in water.
A water-turkey now and again rises and flies ahead into the long avenueof silence. A pirogue sometimes flits from the bushes and crossesthe Red River on its way out to the Mississippi, but the sad-facedpaddlers never turn their heads to look at our boat. The puffingof the boat is music in this gloom, which affects one most curiously.
It is not the gloom of deep forests or dark caverns, but a peculiar kind ofsolemn silence and impressive awe that holds one perforce to its recognition.
We passed two negro families on a raft tied up in the willows this morning.
They were evidently of the well-to-do class, as they had a supply of mealand three or four hogs with them. Their rafts were about twenty feet square,and in front of an improvised shelter earth had been placed, on which theybuilt their fire.
The current running down the Atchafalaya was very swift,the Mississippi showing a predilection in that direction,which needs only to be seen to enforce the opinion of thatriver's desperate endeavors to find a short way to the Gulf.
Small boats, skiffs, pirogues, etc., are in great demand,and many have been stolen by piratical negroes,who take them where they will bring the greatest price.
From what was told me by Mr. C. P. Ferguson, a planternear Red River Landing, whose place has just gone under,there is much suffering in the rear of that place.
The negroes had given up all thoughts of a crevasse there,as the upper levee had stood so long, and when it didcome they were at its mercy. On Thursday a number weretaken out of trees and off of cabin roofs and brought in,many yet remaining.
One does not appreciate the sight of earth until he has traveledthrough a flood. At sea one does not expect or look for it,but here, with fluttering leaves, shadowy forest aisles, house-topsbarely visible, it is expected. In fact a grave-yard, if the moundswere above water, would be appreciated. The river here is knownonly because there is an opening in the trees, and that is all.
It is in width, from Fort Adams on the left bank of the Mississippito the bank of Rapides Parish, a distance of about sixty miles.
A large portion of this was under cultivation, particularly alongthe Mississippi and back of the Red. When Red River properwas entered, a strong current was running directly across it,pursuing the same direction as that of the Mississippi.
After a run of some hours, Black River was reached.
Hardly was it entered before signs of suffering became visible.
All the willows along the banks were stripped of their leaves.
One man, whom your correspondent spoke to, said that he had had onehundred and fifty head of cattle and one hundred head of hogs.
At the first appearance of water he had started to drivethem to the high lands of Avoyelles, thirty-five miles off,but he lost fifty head of the beef cattle and sixty hogs.
Black River is quite picturesque, even if its shores are under water.
A dense growth of ash, oak, gum, and hickory make the shoresalmost impenetrable, and where one can get a view down someavenue in the trees, only the dim outlines of distant trunkscan be barely distinguished in the gloom.
A few miles up this river, the depth of water on the bankswas fully eight feet, and on all sides could be seen,still holding against the strong current, the tops of cabins.
Here and there one overturned was surrounded by drift-wood, formingthe nucleus of possibly some future island.
In order to save coal, as it was impossible to get that fuel at any pointto be touched during the expedition, a look-out was kept for a wood-pile.
On rounding a point a pirogue, skilfully paddled by a youth, shot out,and in its bow was a girl of fifteen, of fair face, beautiful black eyes,and demure manners. The boy asked for a paper, which was thrown to him,and the couple pushed their tiny craft out into the swell of the boat.
Presently a little girl, not certainly over twelve years, paddled outin the smallest little canoe and handled it with all the deftnessof an old voyageur. The little one looked more like an Indianthan a white child, and laughed when asked if she were afraid.
She had been raised in a pirogue and could go anywhere.
She was bound out to pick willow leaves for the stock, and she pointedto a house near by with water three inches deep on the floors.
At its back door was moored a raft about thirty feet square,with a sort of fence built upon it, and inside of this some sixteencows and twenty hogs were standing. The family did not complain,except on account of losing their stock, and promptly brought asupply of wood in a flat.
From this point to the Mississippi River, fifteen miles, there is not a spotof earth above water, and to the westward for thirty-five miles thereis nothing but the river's flood. Black River had risen during Thursday,the 23rd, 1 inches, and was going up at night still.
As we progress up the river habitations become more frequent,but are yet still miles apart. Nearly all of them are deserted,and the out-houses floated off. To add to the gloom, almost everyliving thing seems to have departed, and not a whistle of a birdnor the bark of the squirrel can be heard in this solitude.
Sometimes a morose gar will throw his tail aloft and disappear in the river,but beyond this everything is quiet--the quiet of dissolution.
Down the river floats now a neatly whitewashed hen-house, thena cluster of neatly split fence-rails, or a door and a bloated carcass,solemnly guarded by a pair of buzzards, the only bird to be seen,which feast on the carcass as it bears them along. A picture-framein which there was a cheap lithograph of a soldier on horseback,as it floated on told of some hearth invaded by the water and despoiledof this ornament.
At dark, as it was not prudent to run, a place alongside the woods was huntedand to a tall gum-tree the boat was made fast for the night.
A pretty quarter of the moon threw a pleasant light over forest and river,making a picture that would be a delightful piece of landscape study,could an artist only hold it down to his canvas. The motion ofthe engines had ceased, the puffing of the escaping steam was stilled,and the enveloping silence closed upon us, and such silence it was!
Usually in a forest at night one can hear the piping of frogs,the hum of insects, or the dropping of limbs; but here nature was dumb.
The dark recesses, those aisles into this cathedral, gave forth no sound,and even the ripplings of the current die away.
At daylight Friday morning all hands were up, and up the Black we started.
The morning was a beautiful one, and the river, which is remarkablystraight, put on its loveliest garb. The blossoms of the haw perfumedthe air deliciously, and a few birds whistled blithely along the banks.
The trees were larger, and the forest seemed of older growth than below.
More fields were passed than nearer the mouth, but the same scenepresented itself--smoke-houses drifting out in the pastures, negro quartersanchored in confusion against some oak, and the modest residence justshowing its eaves above water. The sun came up in a glory of carmine,and the trees were brilliant in their varied shades of green.
Not a foot of soil is to be seen anywhere, and the water is apparently growingdeeper and deeper, for it reaches up to the branches of the largest trees.
All along, the bordering willows have been denuded of leaves, showing how longthe people have been at work gathering this fodder for their animals. An oldman in a pirogue was asked how the willow leaves agreed with his cattle.
He stopped in his work, and with an ominous shake of his head replied:
'Well, sir, it 's enough to keep warmth in their bodies and that'sall we expect, but it's hard on the hogs, particularly the small ones.
They is dropping off powerful fast. But what can you do? It 'sall we've got.'
At thirty miles above the mouth of Black River the waterextends from Natchez on the Mississippi across to the pinehills of Louisiana, a distance of seventy-three miles,and there is hardly a spot that is not ten feet under it.
The tendency of the current up the Black is toward the west.
In fact, so much is this the case, the waters of Red Riverhave been driven down from toward the Calcasieu country,and the waters of the Black enter the Red some fifteen milesabove the mouth of the former, a thing never before seen by eventhe oldest steamboatmen. The water now in sight of us is entirelyfrom the Mississippi.
Up to Trinity, or rather Troy, which is but a shortdistance below, the people have nearly all moved out,those remaining having enough for their present personal needs.
Their cattle, though, are suffering and dying off quite fast,as the confinement on rafts and the food they get breeds disease.
After a short stop we started, and soon came to a section wherethere were many open fields and cabins thickly scattered about.
Here were seen more pictures of distress. On the inside of the housesthe inmates had built on boxes a scaffold on which they placedthe furniture. The bed-posts were sawed off on top, as the ceilingwas not more than four feet from the improvised floor. The buildingslooked very insecure, and threatened every moment to float off.
Near the houses were cattle standing breast high in the water,perfectly impassive. They did not move in their places, but stoodpatiently waiting for help to come. The sight was a distressing one,and the poor creatures will be sure to die unless speedily rescued.
Cattle differ from horses in this peculiar quality. A horse,after finding no relief comes, will swim off in search of food,whereas a beef will stand in its tracks until with exhaustion it drops inthe water and drowns.
At half-past twelve o'clock a hail was given from a flat-boatinside the line of the bank. Rounding to we ran alongside,and General York stepped aboard. He was just then engagedin getting off stock, and welcomed the 'Times-Democrat'
boat heartily, as he said there was much need for her.
He said that the distress was not exaggerated in the least.
People were in a condition it was difficult even for one to imagine.
The water was so high there was great danger of their housesbeing swept away. It had already risen so high that it wasapproaching the eaves, and when it reaches this point there isalways imminent risk of their being swept away. If this occurs,there will be great loss of life. The General spoke of the gallantwork of many of the people in their attempts to save their stock,but thought that fully twenty-five per cent. had perished.
Already twenty-five hundred people had received rations from Troy,on Black River, and he had towed out a great many cattle,but a very great quantity remained and were in dire need.
The water was now eighteen inches higher than in 1874, and there wasno land between Vidalia and the hills of Catahoula.
At two o'clock the 'Susie' reached Troy, sixty-five miles abovethe mouth of Black River. Here on the left comes in Little River;just beyond that the Ouachita, and on the right the Tensas.
These three rivers form the Black River. Troy, or a portionof it, is situated on and around three large Indian mounds,circular in shape, which rise above the present waterabout twelve feet. They are about one hundred and fiftyfeet in diameter, and are about two hundred yards apart.
The houses are all built between these mounds, and hence are allflooded to a depth of eighteen inches on their floors.
These elevations, built by the aborigines, hundreds of years ago,are the only points of refuge for miles. When we arrived we found themcrowded with stock, all of which was thin and hardly able to stand up.
They were mixed together, sheep, hogs, horses, mules, and cattle.
One of these mounds has been used for many years as the grave-yard,and to-day we saw attenuated cows lying against the marble tomb-stones,chewing their cud in contentment, after a meal of corn furnishedby General York. Here, as below, the remarkable skill of the womenand girls in the management of the smaller pirogues was noticed.
Children were paddling about in these most ticklish crafts with all thenonchalance of adepts.
General York has put into operation a perfect system in regardto furnishing relief. He makes a personal inspection of the placewhere it is asked, sees what is necessary to be done, and then,having two boats chartered, with flats, sends them promptlyto the place, when the cattle are loaded and towed to the pinehills and uplands of Catahoula. He has made Troy his headquarters,and to this point boats come for their supply of feed for cattle.
On the opposite side of Little River, which branches to the leftout of Black, and between it and the Ouachita, is situatedthe town of Trinity, which is hourly threatened with destruction.
It is much lower than Troy, and the water is eight and ninefeet deep in the houses. A strong current sweeps through it,and it is remarkable that all of its houses have not gone before.
The residents of both Troy and Trinity have been cared for, yet someof their stock have to be furnished with food.
As soon as the 'Susie' reached Troy, she was turned over to General York,and placed at his disposition to carry out the work of relief more rapidly.
Nearly all her supplies were landed on one of the mounds to lighten her,and she was headed down stream to relieve those below. At Tom Hooper's place,a few miles from Troy, a large flat, with about fifty head of stock on board,was taken in tow. The animals were fed, and soon regained some strength.
To-day we go on Little River, where the suffering is greatest.
DOWN BLACK RIVERSaturday Evening, March 25.
We started down Black River quite early, under the direction of General York,to bring out what stock could be reached. Going down river a flatin tow was left in a central locality, and from there men poled her backin the rear of plantations, picking up the animals wherever found.
In the loft of a gin-house there were seventeen head found, and aftera gangway was built they were led down into the flat without difficulty.
Taking a skiff with the General, your reporter was pulled up to a littlehouse of two rooms, in which the water was standing two feet on the floors.
In one of the large rooms were huddled the horses and cows of the place,while in the other the Widow Taylor and her son were seated on a scaffoldraised on the floor. One or two dug-outs were drifting about in the roamready to be put in service at any time. When the flat was brought up,the side of the house was cut away as the only means of gettingthe animals out, and the cattle were driven on board the boat.
General York, in this as in every case, inquired if the family desiredto leave, informing them that Major Burke, of 'The Times-Democrat,'
has sent the 'Susie' up for that purpose. Mrs. Taylor said she thankedMajor Burke, but she would try and hold out. The remarkable tenacityof the people here to their homes is beyond all comprehension. Just below,at a point sixteen miles from Troy, information was received that the houseof Mr. Tom Ellis was in danger, and his family were all in it. We steamedthere immediately, and a sad picture was presented. Looking out of the halfof the window left above water, was Mrs. Ellis, who is in feeble health,whilst at the door were her seven children, the oldest not fourteen years.
One side of the house was given up to the work animals, some twelve head,besides hogs. In the next room the family lived, the water coming within twoinches of the bed-rail. The stove was below water, and the cooking was doneon a fire on top of it. The house threatened to give way at any moment:
one end of it was sinking, and, in fact, the building looked a mere shell.
As the boat rounded to, Mr. Ellis came out in a dug-out, and GeneralYork told him that he had come to his relief; that 'The Times-Democrat'
boat was at his service, and would remove his family at once to the hills,and on Monday a flat would take out his stock, as, until that time,they would be busy. Notwithstanding the deplorable situation himselfand family were in, Mr. Ellis did not want to leave. He said he thoughthe would wait until Monday, and take the risk of his house falling.
The children around the door looked perfectly contented, seeming to carelittle for the danger they were in. These are but two instances of the many.
After weeks of privation and suffering, people still cling to their housesand leave only when there is not room between the water and the ceilingto build a scaffold on which to stand. It seemed to be incomprehensible,yet the love for the old place was stronger than that for safety.
After leaving the Ellis place, the next spot touched atwas the Oswald place. Here the flat was towed alongsidethe gin-house where there were fifteen head standing in water;and yet, as they stood on scaffolds, their heads were abovethe top of the entrance. It was found impossible to getthem out without cutting away a portion of the front;and so axes were brought into requisition and a gap made.
After much labor the horses and mules were securely placedon the flat.
At each place we stop there are always three, four, or more dug-outsarriving, bringing information of stock in other places in need.
Notwithstanding the fact that a great many had driven a part of theirstock to the hills some time ago, there yet remains a large quantity,which General York, who is working with indomitable energy, will getlanded in the pine hills by Tuesday.
All along Black River the 'Susie' has been visited by scoresof planters, whose tales are the repetition of those alreadyheard of suffering and loss. An old planter, who has lived onthe river since 1844, said there never was such a rise, and he wassatisfied more than one quarter of the stock has been lost.
Luckily the people cared first for their work stock, and when theycould find it horses and mules were housed in a place of safety.
The rise which still continues, and was two inches last night,compels them to get them out to the hills; hence it isthat the work of General York is of such a great value.
From daylight to late at night he is going this way and that,cheering by his kindly words and directing with calm judgmentwhat is to be done. One unpleasant story, of a certainmerchant in New Orleans, is told all along the river.
It appears for some years past the planters have been dealingwith this individual, and many of them had balances in his hands.
When the overflow came they wrote for coffee, for meal, and,in fact, for such little necessities as were required.
No response to these letters came, and others were written,and yet these old customers, with plantations under water,were refused even what was necessary to sustain life. It is needlessto say he is not popular now on Back River.
The hills spoken of as the place of refuge for the people and stock on BlackRiver are in Catahoula parish, twenty-four miles from Black River.
After filling the flat with cattle we took on board the familyof T. S. Hooper, seven in number, who could not longer remainin their dwelling, and we are now taking them up Little Riverto the hills.
THE FLOOD STILL RISINGTroy: March 27, 1882, noon.
The flood here is rising about three and a half inches everytwenty-four hours, and rains have set in which will increase this.
General York feels now that our efforts ought to be directed towardssaving life, as the increase of the water has jeopardized many houses.
We intend to go up the Tensas in a few minutes, and then wewill return and go down Black River to take off families.
There is a lack of steam transportation here to meet the emergency.
The General has three boats chartered, with flats in tow,but the demand for these to tow out stock is greater than theycan meet with promptness. All are working night and day,and the 'Susie' hardly stops for more than an hour anywhere.
The rise has placed Trinity in a dangerous plight, and momentarilyit is expected that some of the houses will float off.
Troy is a little higher, yet all are in the water.
Reports have come in that a woman and child have beenwashed away below here, and two cabins floated off.
Their occupants are the same who refused to come off daybefore yesterday. One would not believe the utter passivenessof the people.
As yet no news has been received of the steamer 'Delia,' which issupposed to be the one sunk in yesterday's storm on Lake Catahoula.
She is due here now, but has not arrived. Even the mail here ismost uncertain, and this I send by skiff to Natchez to get it to you.
It is impossible to get accurate data as to past crops, etc., asthose who know much about the matter have gone, and those who remainare not well versed in the production of this section.
General York desires me to say that the amount of rationsformerly sent should be duplicated and sent at once.
It is impossible to make any estimate, for the people are fleeingto the hills, so rapid is the rise. The residents here arein a state of commotion that can only be appreciated when seen,and complete demoralization has set in,If rations are drawn for any particular section hereabouts, they wouldnot be certain to be distributed, so everything should be sent to Troyas a center, and the General will have it properly disposed of.
He has sent for one hundred tents, and, if all go to the hills who arein motion now, two hundred will be required.
APPENDIX A(FROM THE NEW ORLEANS TIMES DEMOCRAT OF MARCH 29, 1882.)VOYAGE OF THE TIMES-DEMOCRAT'S RELIEF BOAT THROUGH THE INUNDATEDREGIONSIT was nine o'clock Thursday morning when the 'Susie'
left the Mississippi and entered Old River, or what isnow called the mouth of the Red. Ascending on the left,a flood was pouring in through and over the levees onthe Chandler plantation, the most northern point in PointeCoupee parish. The water completely covered the place,although the levees had given way but a short time before.
The stock had been gathered in a large flat-boat, where,without food, as we passed, the animals were huddled together,waiting for a boat to tow them off. On the right-hand sideof the river is Turnbull's Island, and on it is a large plantationwhich formerly was pronounced one of the most fertile in the State.
The water has hitherto allowed it to go scot-free in usual floods,but now broad sheets of water told only where fields were.
The top of the protecting levee could be seen here and there,but nearly all of it was submerged.
The trees have put on a greener foliage since the water has poured in,and the woods look bright and fresh, but this pleasant aspect to the eyeis neutralized by the interminable waste of water. We pass mile after mile,and it is nothing but trees standing up to their branches in water.
A water-turkey now and again rises and flies ahead into the long avenueof silence. A pirogue sometimes flits from the bushes and crossesthe Red River on its way out to the Mississippi, but the sad-facedpaddlers never turn their heads to look at our boat. The puffingof the boat is music in this gloom, which affects one most curiously.
It is not the gloom of deep forests or dark caverns, but a peculiar kind ofsolemn silence and impressive awe that holds one perforce to its recognition.
We passed two negro families on a raft tied up in the willows this morning.
They were evidently of the well-to-do class, as they had a supply of mealand three or four hogs with them. Their rafts were about twenty feet square,and in front of an improvised shelter earth had been placed, on which theybuilt their fire.
The current running down the Atchafalaya was very swift,the Mississippi showing a predilection in that direction,which needs only to be seen to enforce the opinion of thatriver's desperate endeavors to find a short way to the Gulf.
Small boats, skiffs, pirogues, etc., are in great demand,and many have been stolen by piratical negroes,who take them where they will bring the greatest price.
From what was told me by Mr. C. P. Ferguson, a planternear Red River Landing, whose place has just gone under,there is much suffering in the rear of that place.
The negroes had given up all thoughts of a crevasse there,as the upper levee had stood so long, and when it didcome they were at its mercy. On Thursday a number weretaken out of trees and off of cabin roofs and brought in,many yet remaining.
One does not appreciate the sight of earth until he has traveledthrough a flood. At sea one does not expect or look for it,but here, with fluttering leaves, shadowy forest aisles, house-topsbarely visible, it is expected. In fact a grave-yard, if the moundswere above water, would be appreciated. The river here is knownonly because there is an opening in the trees, and that is all.
It is in width, from Fort Adams on the left bank of the Mississippito the bank of Rapides Parish, a distance of about sixty miles.
A large portion of this was under cultivation, particularly alongthe Mississippi and back of the Red. When Red River properwas entered, a strong current was running directly across it,pursuing the same direction as that of the Mississippi.
After a run of some hours, Black River was reached.
Hardly was it entered before signs of suffering became visible.
All the willows along the banks were stripped of their leaves.
One man, whom your correspondent spoke to, said that he had had onehundred and fifty head of cattle and one hundred head of hogs.
At the first appearance of water he had started to drivethem to the high lands of Avoyelles, thirty-five miles off,but he lost fifty head of the beef cattle and sixty hogs.
Black River is quite picturesque, even if its shores are under water.
A dense growth of ash, oak, gum, and hickory make the shoresalmost impenetrable, and where one can get a view down someavenue in the trees, only the dim outlines of distant trunkscan be barely distinguished in the gloom.
A few miles up this river, the depth of water on the bankswas fully eight feet, and on all sides could be seen,still holding against the strong current, the tops of cabins.
Here and there one overturned was surrounded by drift-wood, formingthe nucleus of possibly some future island.
In order to save coal, as it was impossible to get that fuel at any pointto be touched during the expedition, a look-out was kept for a wood-pile.
On rounding a point a pirogue, skilfully paddled by a youth, shot out,and in its bow was a girl of fifteen, of fair face, beautiful black eyes,and demure manners. The boy asked for a paper, which was thrown to him,and the couple pushed their tiny craft out into the swell of the boat.
Presently a little girl, not certainly over twelve years, paddled outin the smallest little canoe and handled it with all the deftnessof an old voyageur. The little one looked more like an Indianthan a white child, and laughed when asked if she were afraid.
She had been raised in a pirogue and could go anywhere.
She was bound out to pick willow leaves for the stock, and she pointedto a house near by with water three inches deep on the floors.
At its back door was moored a raft about thirty feet square,with a sort of fence built upon it, and inside of this some sixteencows and twenty hogs were standing. The family did not complain,except on account of losing their stock, and promptly brought asupply of wood in a flat.
From this point to the Mississippi River, fifteen miles, there is not a spotof earth above water, and to the westward for thirty-five miles thereis nothing but the river's flood. Black River had risen during Thursday,the 23rd, 1 inches, and was going up at night still.
As we progress up the river habitations become more frequent,but are yet still miles apart. Nearly all of them are deserted,and the out-houses floated off. To add to the gloom, almost everyliving thing seems to have departed, and not a whistle of a birdnor the bark of the squirrel can be heard in this solitude.
Sometimes a morose gar will throw his tail aloft and disappear in the river,but beyond this everything is quiet--the quiet of dissolution.
Down the river floats now a neatly whitewashed hen-house, thena cluster of neatly split fence-rails, or a door and a bloated carcass,solemnly guarded by a pair of buzzards, the only bird to be seen,which feast on the carcass as it bears them along. A picture-framein which there was a cheap lithograph of a soldier on horseback,as it floated on told of some hearth invaded by the water and despoiledof this ornament.
At dark, as it was not prudent to run, a place alongside the woods was huntedand to a tall gum-tree the boat was made fast for the night.
A pretty quarter of the moon threw a pleasant light over forest and river,making a picture that would be a delightful piece of landscape study,could an artist only hold it down to his canvas. The motion ofthe engines had ceased, the puffing of the escaping steam was stilled,and the enveloping silence closed upon us, and such silence it was!
Usually in a forest at night one can hear the piping of frogs,the hum of insects, or the dropping of limbs; but here nature was dumb.
The dark recesses, those aisles into this cathedral, gave forth no sound,and even the ripplings of the current die away.
At daylight Friday morning all hands were up, and up the Black we started.
The morning was a beautiful one, and the river, which is remarkablystraight, put on its loveliest garb. The blossoms of the haw perfumedthe air deliciously, and a few birds whistled blithely along the banks.
The trees were larger, and the forest seemed of older growth than below.
More fields were passed than nearer the mouth, but the same scenepresented itself--smoke-houses drifting out in the pastures, negro quartersanchored in confusion against some oak, and the modest residence justshowing its eaves above water. The sun came up in a glory of carmine,and the trees were brilliant in their varied shades of green.
Not a foot of soil is to be seen anywhere, and the water is apparently growingdeeper and deeper, for it reaches up to the branches of the largest trees.
All along, the bordering willows have been denuded of leaves, showing how longthe people have been at work gathering this fodder for their animals. An oldman in a pirogue was asked how the willow leaves agreed with his cattle.
He stopped in his work, and with an ominous shake of his head replied:
'Well, sir, it 's enough to keep warmth in their bodies and that'sall we expect, but it's hard on the hogs, particularly the small ones.
They is dropping off powerful fast. But what can you do? It 'sall we've got.'
At thirty miles above the mouth of Black River the waterextends from Natchez on the Mississippi across to the pinehills of Louisiana, a distance of seventy-three miles,and there is hardly a spot that is not ten feet under it.
The tendency of the current up the Black is toward the west.
In fact, so much is this the case, the waters of Red Riverhave been driven down from toward the Calcasieu country,and the waters of the Black enter the Red some fifteen milesabove the mouth of the former, a thing never before seen by eventhe oldest steamboatmen. The water now in sight of us is entirelyfrom the Mississippi.
Up to Trinity, or rather Troy, which is but a shortdistance below, the people have nearly all moved out,those remaining having enough for their present personal needs.
Their cattle, though, are suffering and dying off quite fast,as the confinement on rafts and the food they get breeds disease.
After a short stop we started, and soon came to a section wherethere were many open fields and cabins thickly scattered about.
Here were seen more pictures of distress. On the inside of the housesthe inmates had built on boxes a scaffold on which they placedthe furniture. The bed-posts were sawed off on top, as the ceilingwas not more than four feet from the improvised floor. The buildingslooked very insecure, and threatened every moment to float off.
Near the houses were cattle standing breast high in the water,perfectly impassive. They did not move in their places, but stoodpatiently waiting for help to come. The sight was a distressing one,and the poor creatures will be sure to die unless speedily rescued.
Cattle differ from horses in this peculiar quality. A horse,after finding no relief comes, will swim off in search of food,whereas a beef will stand in its tracks until with exhaustion it drops inthe water and drowns.
At half-past twelve o'clock a hail was given from a flat-boatinside the line of the bank. Rounding to we ran alongside,and General York stepped aboard. He was just then engagedin getting off stock, and welcomed the 'Times-Democrat'
boat heartily, as he said there was much need for her.
He said that the distress was not exaggerated in the least.
People were in a condition it was difficult even for one to imagine.
The water was so high there was great danger of their housesbeing swept away. It had already risen so high that it wasapproaching the eaves, and when it reaches this point there isalways imminent risk of their being swept away. If this occurs,there will be great loss of life. The General spoke of the gallantwork of many of the people in their attempts to save their stock,but thought that fully twenty-five per cent. had perished.
Already twenty-five hundred people had received rations from Troy,on Black River, and he had towed out a great many cattle,but a very great quantity remained and were in dire need.
The water was now eighteen inches higher than in 1874, and there wasno land between Vidalia and the hills of Catahoula.
At two o'clock the 'Susie' reached Troy, sixty-five miles abovethe mouth of Black River. Here on the left comes in Little River;just beyond that the Ouachita, and on the right the Tensas.
These three rivers form the Black River. Troy, or a portionof it, is situated on and around three large Indian mounds,circular in shape, which rise above the present waterabout twelve feet. They are about one hundred and fiftyfeet in diameter, and are about two hundred yards apart.
The houses are all built between these mounds, and hence are allflooded to a depth of eighteen inches on their floors.
These elevations, built by the aborigines, hundreds of years ago,are the only points of refuge for miles. When we arrived we found themcrowded with stock, all of which was thin and hardly able to stand up.
They were mixed together, sheep, hogs, horses, mules, and cattle.
One of these mounds has been used for many years as the grave-yard,and to-day we saw attenuated cows lying against the marble tomb-stones,chewing their cud in contentment, after a meal of corn furnishedby General York. Here, as below, the remarkable skill of the womenand girls in the management of the smaller pirogues was noticed.
Children were paddling about in these most ticklish crafts with all thenonchalance of adepts.
General York has put into operation a perfect system in regardto furnishing relief. He makes a personal inspection of the placewhere it is asked, sees what is necessary to be done, and then,having two boats chartered, with flats, sends them promptlyto the place, when the cattle are loaded and towed to the pinehills and uplands of Catahoula. He has made Troy his headquarters,and to this point boats come for their supply of feed for cattle.
On the opposite side of Little River, which branches to the leftout of Black, and between it and the Ouachita, is situatedthe town of Trinity, which is hourly threatened with destruction.
It is much lower than Troy, and the water is eight and ninefeet deep in the houses. A strong current sweeps through it,and it is remarkable that all of its houses have not gone before.
The residents of both Troy and Trinity have been cared for, yet someof their stock have to be furnished with food.
As soon as the 'Susie' reached Troy, she was turned over to General York,and placed at his disposition to carry out the work of relief more rapidly.
Nearly all her supplies were landed on one of the mounds to lighten her,and she was headed down stream to relieve those below. At Tom Hooper's place,a few miles from Troy, a large flat, with about fifty head of stock on board,was taken in tow. The animals were fed, and soon regained some strength.
To-day we go on Little River, where the suffering is greatest.
DOWN BLACK RIVERSaturday Evening, March 25.
We started down Black River quite early, under the direction of General York,to bring out what stock could be reached. Going down river a flatin tow was left in a central locality, and from there men poled her backin the rear of plantations, picking up the animals wherever found.
In the loft of a gin-house there were seventeen head found, and aftera gangway was built they were led down into the flat without difficulty.
Taking a skiff with the General, your reporter was pulled up to a littlehouse of two rooms, in which the water was standing two feet on the floors.
In one of the large rooms were huddled the horses and cows of the place,while in the other the Widow Taylor and her son were seated on a scaffoldraised on the floor. One or two dug-outs were drifting about in the roamready to be put in service at any time. When the flat was brought up,the side of the house was cut away as the only means of gettingthe animals out, and the cattle were driven on board the boat.
General York, in this as in every case, inquired if the family desiredto leave, informing them that Major Burke, of 'The Times-Democrat,'
has sent the 'Susie' up for that purpose. Mrs. Taylor said she thankedMajor Burke, but she would try and hold out. The remarkable tenacityof the people here to their homes is beyond all comprehension. Just below,at a point sixteen miles from Troy, information was received that the houseof Mr. Tom Ellis was in danger, and his family were all in it. We steamedthere immediately, and a sad picture was presented. Looking out of the halfof the window left above water, was Mrs. Ellis, who is in feeble health,whilst at the door were her seven children, the oldest not fourteen years.
One side of the house was given up to the work animals, some twelve head,besides hogs. In the next room the family lived, the water coming within twoinches of the bed-rail. The stove was below water, and the cooking was doneon a fire on top of it. The house threatened to give way at any moment:
one end of it was sinking, and, in fact, the building looked a mere shell.
As the boat rounded to, Mr. Ellis came out in a dug-out, and GeneralYork told him that he had come to his relief; that 'The Times-Democrat'
boat was at his service, and would remove his family at once to the hills,and on Monday a flat would take out his stock, as, until that time,they would be busy. Notwithstanding the deplorable situation himselfand family were in, Mr. Ellis did not want to leave. He said he thoughthe would wait until Monday, and take the risk of his house falling.
The children around the door looked perfectly contented, seeming to carelittle for the danger they were in. These are but two instances of the many.
After weeks of privation and suffering, people still cling to their housesand leave only when there is not room between the water and the ceilingto build a scaffold on which to stand. It seemed to be incomprehensible,yet the love for the old place was stronger than that for safety.
After leaving the Ellis place, the next spot touched atwas the Oswald place. Here the flat was towed alongsidethe gin-house where there were fifteen head standing in water;and yet, as they stood on scaffolds, their heads were abovethe top of the entrance. It was found impossible to getthem out without cutting away a portion of the front;and so axes were brought into requisition and a gap made.
After much labor the horses and mules were securely placedon the flat.
At each place we stop there are always three, four, or more dug-outsarriving, bringing information of stock in other places in need.
Notwithstanding the fact that a great many had driven a part of theirstock to the hills some time ago, there yet remains a large quantity,which General York, who is working with indomitable energy, will getlanded in the pine hills by Tuesday.
All along Black River the 'Susie' has been visited by scoresof planters, whose tales are the repetition of those alreadyheard of suffering and loss. An old planter, who has lived onthe river since 1844, said there never was such a rise, and he wassatisfied more than one quarter of the stock has been lost.
Luckily the people cared first for their work stock, and when theycould find it horses and mules were housed in a place of safety.
The rise which still continues, and was two inches last night,compels them to get them out to the hills; hence it isthat the work of General York is of such a great value.
From daylight to late at night he is going this way and that,cheering by his kindly words and directing with calm judgmentwhat is to be done. One unpleasant story, of a certainmerchant in New Orleans, is told all along the river.
It appears for some years past the planters have been dealingwith this individual, and many of them had balances in his hands.
When the overflow came they wrote for coffee, for meal, and,in fact, for such little necessities as were required.
No response to these letters came, and others were written,and yet these old customers, with plantations under water,were refused even what was necessary to sustain life. It is needlessto say he is not popular now on Back River.
The hills spoken of as the place of refuge for the people and stock on BlackRiver are in Catahoula parish, twenty-four miles from Black River.
After filling the flat with cattle we took on board the familyof T. S. Hooper, seven in number, who could not longer remainin their dwelling, and we are now taking them up Little Riverto the hills.
THE FLOOD STILL RISINGTroy: March 27, 1882, noon.
The flood here is rising about three and a half inches everytwenty-four hours, and rains have set in which will increase this.
General York feels now that our efforts ought to be directed towardssaving life, as the increase of the water has jeopardized many houses.
We intend to go up the Tensas in a few minutes, and then wewill return and go down Black River to take off families.
There is a lack of steam transportation here to meet the emergency.
The General has three boats chartered, with flats in tow,but the demand for these to tow out stock is greater than theycan meet with promptness. All are working night and day,and the 'Susie' hardly stops for more than an hour anywhere.
The rise has placed Trinity in a dangerous plight, and momentarilyit is expected that some of the houses will float off.
Troy is a little higher, yet all are in the water.
Reports have come in that a woman and child have beenwashed away below here, and two cabins floated off.
Their occupants are the same who refused to come off daybefore yesterday. One would not believe the utter passivenessof the people.
As yet no news has been received of the steamer 'Delia,' which issupposed to be the one sunk in yesterday's storm on Lake Catahoula.
She is due here now, but has not arrived. Even the mail here ismost uncertain, and this I send by skiff to Natchez to get it to you.
It is impossible to get accurate data as to past crops, etc., asthose who know much about the matter have gone, and those who remainare not well versed in the production of this section.
General York desires me to say that the amount of rationsformerly sent should be duplicated and sent at once.
It is impossible to make any estimate, for the people are fleeingto the hills, so rapid is the rise. The residents here arein a state of commotion that can only be appreciated when seen,and complete demoralization has set in,If rations are drawn for any particular section hereabouts, they wouldnot be certain to be distributed, so everything should be sent to Troyas a center, and the General will have it properly disposed of.
He has sent for one hundred tents, and, if all go to the hills who arein motion now, two hundred will be required.
APPENDIX BTHE MISSISSIPPI RIVER COMMISSIONTHE condition of this rich valley of the Lower Mississippi,immediately after and since the war, constituted oneof the disastrous effects of war most to be deplored.
Fictitious property in slaves was not only righteously destroyed,but very much of the work which had depended upon the slave laborwas also destroyed or greatly impaired, especially the levee system.
It might have been expected by those who have not investigated the subject,that such important improvements as the construction and maintenanceof the levees would have been assumed at once by the several States.
But what can the State do where the people are under subjection torates of interest ranging from 18 to 30 per cent., and are also underthe necessity of pledging their crops in advance even of planting,at these rates, for the privilege of purchasing all of their supplies at 100per cent. profit?
It has needed but little attention to make it perfectly obviousthat the control of the Mississippi River, if undertaken at all,must be undertaken by the national government, and cannotbe compassed by States. The river must be treated as a unit;its control cannot be compassed under a divided or separatesystem of administration.
Neither are the States especially interested competentto combine among themselves for the necessary operations.
The work must begin far up the river; at least as far as Cairo,if not beyond; and must be conducted upon a consistent general planthroughout the course of the river.
It does not need technical or scientific knowledge to comprehend the elementsof the case if one will give a little time and attention to the subject,and when a Mississippi River commission has been constituted, as the existingcommission is, of thoroughly able men of different walks in life,may it not be suggested that their verdict in the case should be acceptedas conclusive, so far as any a priori theory of construction or controlcan be considered conclusive?
It should be remembered that upon this board are General Gilmore,General Comstock, and General Suter, of the United States Engineers;Professor Henry Mitchell (the most competent authority on the questionof hydrography), of the United States Coast Survey; B. B. Harrod,the State Engineer of Louisiana; Jas. B. Eads, whose successwith the jetties at New Orleans is a warrant of his competency,and Judge Taylor, of Indiana.
It would be presumption on the part of any single man, however skilled,to contest the judgment of such a board as this.
The method of improvement proposed by the commission is atonce in accord with the results of engineering experienceand with observations of nature where meeting our wants.
As in nature the growth of trees and their proneness where underminedto fall across the slope and support the bank secures at somepoints a fair depth of channel and some degree of permanence,so in the project of the engineer the use of timber and brushand the encouragement of forest growth are the main features.
It is proposed to reduce the width where excessive by brushwood dykes,at first low, but raised higher and higher as the mud of the riversettles under their shelter, and finally slope them back atthe angle upon which willows will grow freely. In this work thereare many details connected with the forms of these shelter dykes,their arrangements so as to present a series of settling basins,etc., a description of which would only complicate the conception.
Through the larger part of the river works of contractionwill not be required, but nearly all the banks on the concaveside of the beds must be held against the wear of the stream,and much of the opposite banks defended at critical points.
The works having in view this conservative object may begenerally designated works of revetment; and these alsowill be largely of brushwood, woven in continuous carpets,or twined into wire-netting. This veneering process has beensuccessfully employed on the Missouri River; and in some casesthey have so covered themselves with sediments, and have becomeso overgrown with willows, that they may be regarded as permanent.
In securing these mats rubble-stone is to be used in small quantities,and in some instances the dressed slope between high and low riverwill have to be more or less paved with stone.
Any one who has been on the Rhine will have observed operations not unlikethose to which we have just referred; and, indeed, most of the riversof Europe flowing among their own alluvia have required similar treatmentin the interest of navigation and agriculture.
The levee is the crowning work of bank revetment, although not necessarilyin immediate connection. It may be set back a short distance fromthe revetted bank; but it is, in effect, the requisite parapet.
The flood river and the low river cannot be brought into register,and compelled to unite in the excavation of a single permanent channel,without a complete control of all the stages; and even the abnormalrise must be provided against, because this would endanger the levee,and once in force behind the works of revetment would tear them also away.
Under the general principle that the local slope of a riveris the result and measure of the resistance of its bed, it isevident that a narrow and deep stream should have less slope,because it has less frictional surface in proportion to capacity;i.e., less perimeter in proportion to area of cross section.
The ultimate effect of levees and revetments confiningthe floods and bringing all the stages of the river intoregister is to deepen the channel and let down the slope.
The first effect of the levees is to raise the surface;but this, by inducing greater velocity of flow, inevitablycauses an enlargement of section, and if this enlargementis prevented from being made at the expense of the banks,the bottom must give way and the form of the waterwaybe so improved as to admit this flow with less rise.
The actual experience with levees upon the Mississippi River,with no attempt to hold the banks, has been favorable,and no one can doubt, upon the evidence furnished in the reportsof the commission, that if the earliest levees had beenaccompanied by revetment of banks, and made complete,we should have to-day a river navigable at low water,and an adjacent country safe from inundation.
Of course it would be illogical to conclude that the constrained rivercan ever lower its flood slope so as to make levees unnecessary,but it is believed that, by this lateral constraint, the riveras a conduit may be so improved in form that even those rarefloods which result from the coincident rising of many tributarieswill find vent without destroying levees of ordinary height.
That the actual capacity of a channel through alluvium dependsupon its service during floods has been often shown, but thiscapacity does not include anomalous, but recurrent, floods.
It is hardly worth while to consider the projects for relievingthe Mississippi River floods by creating new outlets,since these sensational propositions have commended themselvesonly to unthinking minds, and have no support among engineers.
Were the river bed cast-iron, a resort to openings for surpluswaters might be a necessity; but as the bottom is yielding,and the best form of outlet is a single deep channel,as realizing the least ratio of perimeter to area of cross section,there could not well be a more unphilosophical method of treatmentthan the multiplication of avenues of escape.
In the foregoing statement the attempt has been made to condensein as limited a space as the importance of the subject would permit,the general elements of the problem, and the general featuresof the proposed method of improvement which has been adoptedby the Mississippi River Commission.
The writer cannot help feeling that it is somewhat presumptuous onhis part to attempt to present the facts relating to an enterprisewhich calls for the highest scientific skill; but it is a matterwhich interests every citizen of the United States, and is oneof the methods of reconstruction which ought to be approved.
It is a war claim which implies no private gain, and no compensationexcept for one of the cases of destruction incident to war,which may well be repaired by the people of the whole country.
EDWARD ATKINSON.
Boston: April 14, 1882.
APPENDIX CRECEPTION OF CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S BOOK IN THE UNITED STATESHAVING now arrived nearly at the end of our travels,I am induced, ere I conclude, again to mention what I consideras one of the most remarkable traits in the national characterof the Americans; namely, their exquisite sensitiveness andsoreness respecting everything said or written concerning them.
Of this, perhaps, the most remarkable example I can give isthe effect produced on nearly every class of readers by theappearance of Captain Basil Hall's 'Travels in North America.'
In fact, it was a sort of moral earthquake, and the vibration itoccasioned through the nerves of the republic, from one cornerof the union to the other, was by no means over when I leftthe country in July 1831, a couple of years after the shock.
I was in Cincinnati when these volumes came out, but itwas not till July 1830, that I procured a copy of them.
One bookseller to whom I applied told me that he had had a fewcopies before he understood the nature of the work, but that,after becoming acquainted with it, nothing should inducehim to sell another. Other persons of his profession must,however, have been less scrupulous; for the book was readin city, town, village, and hamlet, steamboat, and stage-coach,and a sort of war-whoop was sent forth perfectly unprecedentedin my recollection upon any occasion whatever.
An ardent desire for approbation, and a delicate sensitiveness under censure,have always, I believe, been considered as amiable traits of character;but the condition into which the appearance of Captain Hall's work threwthe republic shows plainly that these feelings, if carried to excess,produce a weakness which amounts to imbecility.
It was perfectly astonishing to hear men who, on other subjects,were of some judgment, utter their opinions upon this.
I never heard of any instance in which the commonsense generallyfound in national criticism was so overthrown by passion.
I do not speak of the want of justice, and of fair andliberal interpretation: these, perhaps, were hardly to be expected.
Other nations have been called thin-skinned, but the citizensof the union have, apparently, no skins at all; they wince if abreeze blows over them, unless it be tempered with adulation.
It was not, therefore, very surprising that the acute and forcibleobservations of a traveler they knew would be listened to should bereceived testily. The extraordinary features of the business were,first, the excess of the rage into which they lashed themselves;and, secondly, the puerility of the inventions by which theyattempted to account for the severity with which they fancied theyhad been treated.
Not content with declaring that the volumes contained no word of truth,from beginning to end (which is an assertion I heard made very nearlyas often as they were mentioned), the whole country set to workto discover the causes why Captain Hall had visited the United States,and why he had published his book.
I have heard it said with as much precision and gravityas if the statement had been conveyed by an official report,that Captain Hall had been sent out by the British Governmentexpressly for the purpose of checking the growing admirationof England for the Government of the United States,--that it was by a commission from the treasury he had come,and that it was only in obedience to orders that he had foundanything to object to.
I do not give this as the gossip of a coterie; I am persuaded that itis the belief of a very considerable portion of the country.
So deep is the conviction of this singular people that they cannotbe seen without being admired, that they will not admit the possibilitythat any one should honestly and sincerely find aught to disapprovein them or their country.
The American Reviews are, many of them, I believe, well known in England;I need not, therefore, quote them here, but I sometimes wonderedthat they, none of them, ever thought of translating Obadiah'scurse into classic American; if they had done so, on placing(he, Basil Hall) between brackets, instead of (he, Obadiah)it would have saved them a world of trouble.
I can hardly describe the curiosity with which I sat down at lengthto peruse these tremendous volumes; still less can I do justice to mysurprise at their contents. To say that I found not one exaggeratedstatement throughout the work is by no means saying enough.
It is impossible for any one who knows the country not to see thatCaptain Hall earnestly sought out things to admire and commend.
When he praises, it is with evident pleasure; and when he finds fault,it is with evident reluctance and restraint, excepting where motivespurely patriotic urge him to state roundly what it is for the benefitof his country should be known.
In fact, Captain Hall saw the country to the greatest possible advantage.
Furnished, of course, with letters of introduction to the mostdistinguished individuals, and with the still more influentialrecommendation of his own reputation, he was received in fulldrawing-room style and state from one end of the union to the other.
He saw the country in full dress, and had little or no opportunityof judging of it unhouselled, unanointed, unannealed, with all itsimperfections on its head, as I and my family too often had.
Captain Hall had certainly excellent opportunities of makinghimself acquainted with the form of the government and the laws;and of receiving, moreover, the best oral commentary upon them,in conversation with the most distinguished citizens.
Of these opportunities he made excellent use; nothing important methis eye which did not receive that sort of analytical attentionwhich an experienced and philosophical traveler alone can give.
This has made his volumes highly interesting and valuable;but I am deeply persuaded, that were a man of equal penetrationto visit the United States with no other means of becomingacquainted with the national character than the ordinary working-dayintercourse of life, he would conceive an infinitely lower ideaof the moral atmosphere of the country than Captain Hall appearsto have done; and the internal conviction on my mind is strong,that if Captain Hall had not placed a firm restraint on himself,he must have given expression to far deeper indignation than any he hasuttered against many points in the American character, with whichhe shows from other circumstances that he was well acquainted.
His rule appears to have been to state just so much of the truthas would leave on the mind of his readers a correct impression,at the least cost of pain to the sensitive folks he was writing about.
He states his own opinions and feelings, and leaves it to beinferred that he has good grounds for adopting them; but he sparesthe Americans the bitterness which a detail of the circumstanceswould have produced.
If any one chooses to say that some wicked antipathy to twelvemillions of strangers is the origin of my opinion, I mustbear it; and were the question one of mere idle speculation,I certainly would not court the abuse I must meet for stating it.
But it is not so.
. . . . . . .
The candor which he expresses, and evidently feels, they mistake for irony,or totally distrust; his unwillingness to give pain to persons fromwhom he has received kindness, they scornfully reject as affectation,and although they must know right well, in their own secret hearts,how infinitely more they lay at his mercy than he has chosen to betray;they pretend, even to themselves, that he has exaggerated the bad pointsof their character and institutions; whereas, the truth is, that he haslet them off with a degree of tenderness which may be quite suitablefor him to exercise, however little merited; while, at the same time,he has most industriously magnified their merits, whenever he could possiblyfind anything favorable.
APPENDIX CRECEPTION OF CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S BOOK IN THE UNITED STATESHAVING now arrived nearly at the end of our travels,I am induced, ere I conclude, again to mention what I consideras one of the most remarkable traits in the national characterof the Americans; namely, their exquisite sensitiveness andsoreness respecting everything said or written concerning them.
Of this, perhaps, the most remarkable example I can give isthe effect produced on nearly every class of readers by theappearance of Captain Basil Hall's 'Travels in North America.'
In fact, it was a sort of moral earthquake, and the vibration itoccasioned through the nerves of the republic, from one cornerof the union to the other, was by no means over when I leftthe country in July 1831, a couple of years after the shock.
I was in Cincinnati when these volumes came out, but itwas not till July 1830, that I procured a copy of them.
One bookseller to whom I applied told me that he had had a fewcopies before he understood the nature of the work, but that,after becoming acquainted with it, nothing should inducehim to sell another. Other persons of his profession must,however, have been less scrupulous; for the book was readin city, town, village, and hamlet, steamboat, and stage-coach,and a sort of war-whoop was sent forth perfectly unprecedentedin my recollection upon any occasion whatever.
An ardent desire for approbation, and a delicate sensitiveness under censure,have always, I believe, been considered as amiable traits of character;but the condition into which the appearance of Captain Hall's work threwthe republic shows plainly that these feelings, if carried to excess,produce a weakness which amounts to imbecility.
It was perfectly astonishing to hear men who, on other subjects,were of some judgment, utter their opinions upon this.
I never heard of any instance in which the commonsense generallyfound in national criticism was so overthrown by passion.
I do not speak of the want of justice, and of fair andliberal interpretation: these, perhaps, were hardly to be expected.
Other nations have been called thin-skinned, but the citizensof the union have, apparently, no skins at all; they wince if abreeze blows over them, unless it be tempered with adulation.
It was not, therefore, very surprising that the acute and forcibleobservations of a traveler they knew would be listened to should bereceived testily. The extraordinary features of the business were,first, the excess of the rage into which they lashed themselves;and, secondly, the puerility of the inventions by which theyattempted to account for the severity with which they fancied theyhad been treated.
Not content with declaring that the volumes contained no word of truth,from beginning to end (which is an assertion I heard made very nearlyas often as they were mentioned), the whole country set to workto discover the causes why Captain Hall had visited the United States,and why he had published his book.
I have heard it said with as much precision and gravityas if the statement had been conveyed by an official report,that Captain Hall had been sent out by the British Governmentexpressly for the purpose of checking the growing admirationof England for the Government of the United States,--that it was by a commission from the treasury he had come,and that it was only in obedience to orders that he had foundanything to object to.
I do not give this as the gossip of a coterie; I am persuaded that itis the belief of a very considerable portion of the country.
So deep is the conviction of this singular people that they cannotbe seen without being admired, that they will not admit the possibilitythat any one should honestly and sincerely find aught to disapprovein them or their country.
The American Reviews are, many of them, I believe, well known in England;I need not, therefore, quote them here, but I sometimes wonderedthat they, none of them, ever thought of translating Obadiah'scurse into classic American; if they had done so, on placing(he, Basil Hall) between brackets, instead of (he, Obadiah)it would have saved them a world of trouble.
I can hardly describe the curiosity with which I sat down at lengthto peruse these tremendous volumes; still less can I do justice to mysurprise at their contents. To say that I found not one exaggeratedstatement throughout the work is by no means saying enough.
It is impossible for any one who knows the country not to see thatCaptain Hall earnestly sought out things to admire and commend.
When he praises, it is with evident pleasure; and when he finds fault,it is with evident reluctance and restraint, excepting where motivespurely patriotic urge him to state roundly what it is for the benefitof his country should be known.
In fact, Captain Hall saw the country to the greatest possible advantage.
Furnished, of course, with letters of introduction to the mostdistinguished individuals, and with the still more influentialrecommendation of his own reputation, he was received in fulldrawing-room style and state from one end of the union to the other.
He saw the country in full dress, and had little or no opportunityof judging of it unhouselled, unanointed, unannealed, with all itsimperfections on its head, as I and my family too often had.
Captain Hall had certainly excellent opportunities of makinghimself acquainted with the form of the government and the laws;and of receiving, moreover, the best oral commentary upon them,in conversation with the most distinguished citizens.
Of these opportunities he made excellent use; nothing important methis eye which did not receive that sort of analytical attentionwhich an experienced and philosophical traveler alone can give.
This has made his volumes highly interesting and valuable;but I am deeply persuaded, that were a man of equal penetrationto visit the United States with no other means of becomingacquainted with the national character than the ordinary working-dayintercourse of life, he would conceive an infinitely lower ideaof the moral atmosphere of the country than Captain Hall appearsto have done; and the internal conviction on my mind is strong,that if Captain Hall had not placed a firm restraint on himself,he must have given expression to far deeper indignation than any he hasuttered against many points in the American character, with whichhe shows from other circumstances that he was well acquainted.
His rule appears to have been to state just so much of the truthas would leave on the mind of his readers a correct impression,at the least cost of pain to the sensitive folks he was writing about.
He states his own opinions and feelings, and leaves it to beinferred that he has good grounds for adopting them; but he sparesthe Americans the bitterness which a detail of the circumstanceswould have produced.
If any one chooses to say that some wicked antipathy to twelvemillions of strangers is the origin of my opinion, I mustbear it; and were the question one of mere idle speculation,I certainly would not court the abuse I must meet for stating it.
But it is not so.
. . . . . . .
The candor which he expresses, and evidently feels, they mistake for irony,or totally distrust; his unwillingness to give pain to persons fromwhom he has received kindness, they scornfully reject as affectation,and although they must know right well, in their own secret hearts,how infinitely more they lay at his mercy than he has chosen to betray;they pretend, even to themselves, that he has exaggerated the bad pointsof their character and institutions; whereas, the truth is, that he haslet them off with a degree of tenderness which may be quite suitablefor him to exercise, however little merited; while, at the same time,he has most industriously magnified their merits, whenever he could possiblyfind anything favorable.
APPENDIX DTHE UNDYING HEADIN a remote part of the North lived a man and his sister,who had never seen a human being. Seldom, if ever, had the manany cause to go from home; for, as his wants demanded food,he had only to go a little distance from the lodge, and there,in some particular spot, place his arrows, with their barbsin the ground. Telling his sister where they had been placed,every morning she would go in search, and never fail offinding each stuck through the heart of a deer. She had thenonly to drag them into the lodge and prepare their food.
Thus she lived till she attained womanhood, when one dayher brother, whose name was Iamo, said to her: 'Sister, the timeis at hand when you will be ill. Listen to my advice.
If you do not, it will probably be the cause of my death.
Take the implements with which we kindle our fires.
Go some distance from our lodge and build a separate fire.
When you are in want of food, I will tell you where to find it.
You must cook for yourself, and I will for myself.
When you are ill, do not attempt to come near the lodge,or bring any of the utensils you use. Be sure alwaysto fasten to your belt the implements you need, for youdo not know when the time will come. As for myself, I mustdo the best I can.' His sister promised to obey him in allhe had said.
Shortly after, her brother had cause to go from home.
She was alone in her lodge, combing her hair. She had just untiedthe belt to which the implements were fastened, when suddenlythe event, to which her brother had alluded, occurred.
She ran out of the lodge, but in her haste forgot the belt.
Afraid to return, she stood for some time thinking.
Finally, she decided to enter the lodge and get it.
For, thought she, my brother is not at home, and I willstay but a moment to catch hold of it. She went back.
Running in suddenly, she caught hold of it, and was coming outwhen her brother came in sight. He knew what was the matter.
'Oh,' he said, 'did I not tell you to take care.
But now you have killed me.' She was going on her way,but her brother said to her, 'What can you do there now.
The accident has happened. Go in, and stay where youhave always stayed. And what will become of you?
You have killed me.'
He then laid aside his hunting-dress and accoutrements, and soonafter both his feet began to turn black, so that he could not move.
Still he directed his sister where to place the arrows,that she might always have food. The inflammation continuedto increase, and had now reached his first rib; and he said:
'Sister, my end is near. You must do as I tell you.
You see my medicine-sack, and my war-club tied to it. It containsall my medicines, and my war-plumes, and my paints of all colors.
As soon as the inflammation reaches my breast, you will takemy war-club. It has a sharp point, and you will cut off my head.
When it is free from my body, take it, place its neck in the sack,which you must open at one end. Then hang it up in its former place.
Do not forget my bow and arrows. One of the last youwill take to procure food. The remainder, tie in my sack,and then hang it up, so that I can look towards the door.
Now and then I will speak to you, but not often.' His sister againpromised to obey.
In a little time his breast was affected. 'Now,' said he,'take the club and strike off my head.' She was afraid, but he toldher to muster courage. 'Strike,' said he, and a smile was on his face.
Mustering all her courage, she gave the blow and cut off the head.
'Now,' said the head, 'place me where I told you.'
And fearfully she obeyed it in all its commands.
Retaining its animation, it looked around the lodge as usual,and it would command its sister to go in such places as it thoughtwould procure for her the flesh of different animals she needed.
One day the head said: 'The time is not distant when I shall be freedfrom this situation, and I shall have to undergo many sore evils.
So the superior manito decrees, and I must bear all patiently.'
In this situation we must leave the head.
In a certain part of the country was a village inhabited by anumerous and warlike band of Indians. In this village was a familyof ten young men--brothers. It was in the spring of the yearthat the youngest of these blackened his face and fasted.
His dreams were propitious. Having ended his fast, he wentsecretly for his brothers at night, so that none in the villagecould overhear or find out the direction they intended to go.
Though their drum was heard, yet that was a common occurrence.
Having ended the usual formalities, he told how favorablehis dreams were, and that he had called them togetherto know if they would accompany him in a war excursion.
They all answered they would. The third brother from the eldest,noted for his oddities, coming up with his war-club when his brotherhad ceased speaking, jumped up. 'Yes,' said he, 'I will go,and this will be the way I will treat those I am going to fight;'
and he struck the post in the center of the lodge, and gave a yell.
The others spoke to him, saying: 'Slow, slow, Mudjikewis, when youare in other people's lodges.' So he sat down. Then, in turn,they took the drum, and sang their songs, and closed with a feast.
The youngest told them not to whisper their intentionto their wives, but secretly to prepare for their journey.
They all promised obedience, and Mudjikewis was the firstto say so.
The time for their departure drew near. Word was given toassemble on a certain night, when they would depart immediately.
Mudjikewis was loud in his demands for his moccasins.
Several times his wife asked him the reason. 'Besides,' said she,'you have a good pair on.' 'Quick, quick,' said he, 'since youmust know, we are going on a war excursion; so be quick.'
He thus revealed the secret. That night they met and started.
The snow was on the ground, and they traveled all night, lest othersshould follow them. When it was daylight, the leader took snowand made a ball of it, then tossing it into the air, he said:
'It was in this way I saw snow fall in a dream, so that I could notbe tracked.' And he told them to keep close to each other for fearof losing themselves, as the snow began to fall in very large flakes.
Near as they walked, it was with difficulty they could see each other.
The snow continued falling all that day and the following night,so it was impossible to track them.
They had now walked for several days, and Mudjikewis wasalways in the rear. One day, running suddenly forward,he gave the SAW-SAW-QUAN, and strucka tree with his war-club, and it broke into pieces as if struckwith lightning. 'Brothers,' said he, 'this will be the way Iwill serve those we are going to fight.' The leader answered,'Slow, slow, Mudjikewis, the one I lead you to is not to be thoughtof so lightly.' Again he fell back and thought to himself:
'What! what! who can this be he is leading us to?'
He felt fearful and was silent. Day after day they traveled on,till they came to an extensive plain, on the borders of whichhuman bones were bleaching in the sun. The leader spoke:
'They are the bones of those who have gone before us.
None has ever yet returned to tell the sad tale of their fate.'
Again Mudjikewis became restless, and, running forward,gave the accustomed yell. Advancing to a large rock whichstood above the ground, he struck it, and it fell to pieces.
'See, brothers,' said he, 'thus will I treat those whom we aregoing to fight.' 'Still, still,' once more said the leader;'he to whom I am leading you is not to be comparedto the rock.'
Mudjikewis fell back thoughtful, saying to himself: 'I wonderwho this can be that he is going to attack;' and he was afraid.
Still they continued to see the remains of former warriors,who had been to the place where they were now going,some of whom had retreated as far back as the place where theyfirst saw the bones, beyond which no one had ever escaped.
At last they came to a piece of rising ground, from which theyplainly distinguished, sleeping on a distant mountain,a mammoth bear.
The distance between them was very great, but the size of the animalcaused him to be plainly seen. 'There,' said the leader,'it is he to whom I am leading you; here our troubles will commence,for he is a mishemokwa and a manito. It is he who has that weprize so dearly (i.e. wampum), to obtain which, the warriors whosebones we saw, sacrificed their lives. You must not be fearful:
be manly. We shall find him asleep.' Then the leader wentforward and touched the belt around the animal's neck.
'This,' said he, 'is what we must get. It contains the wampum.'
Then they requested the eldest to try and slip the belt overthe bear's head, who appeared to be fast asleep, as he was notin the least disturbed by the attempt to obtain the belt.
All their efforts were in vain, till it came to the onenext the youngest. He tried, and the belt moved nearlyover the monster's head, but he could get it no farther.
Then the youngest one, and the leader, made his attempt, and succeeded.
Placing it on the back of the oldest, he said, 'Now we must run,'
and off they started. When one became fatigued with its weight,another would relieve him. Thus they ran till they had passedthe bones of all former warriors, and were some distance beyond,when looking back, they saw the monster slowly rising.
He stood some time before he missed his wampum. Soon they heard histremendous howl, like distant thunder, slowly filling all the sky;and then they heard him speak and say, 'Who can it be that hasdared to steal my wampum? earth is not so large but that Ican find them;' and he descended from the hill in pursuit.
As if convulsed, the earth shook with every jump he made.
Very soon he approached the party. They, however, kept the belt,exchanging it from one to another, and encouraging each other;but he gained on them fast. 'Brothers,' said the leader,'has never any one of you, when fasting, dreamed of some friendlyspirit who would aid you as a guardian?' A dead silence followed.
'Well,' said he, 'fasting, I dreamed of being in dangerof instant death, when I saw a small lodge, with smoke curlingfrom its top. An old man lived in it, and I dreamed he helped me;and may it be verified soon,' he said, running forward andgiving the peculiar yell, and a howl as if the sounds camefrom the depths of his stomach, and what is called CHECAUDUM.
Getting upon a piece of rising ground, behold! a lodge, with smokecurling from its top, appeared. This gave them all new strength,and they ran forward and entered it. The leader spoke tothe old man who sat in the lodge, saying, 'Nemesho, help us;we claim your protection, for the great bear will kill us.'
'Sit down and eat, my grandchildren,' said the old man.
'Who is a great manito?' said he. 'There is none but me;but let me look,' and he opened the door of the lodge, when,lo! at a little distance he saw the enraged animal coming on,with slow but powerful leaps. He closed the door.
'Yes,' said he, 'he is indeed a great manito: my grandchildren,you will be the cause of my losing my life; you asked my protection,and I granted it; so now, come what may, I will protect you.
When the bear arrives at the door, you must run out of the otherdoor of the lodge.' Then putting his hand to the side ofthe lodge where he sat, he brought out a bag which he opened.
Taking out two small black dogs, he placed them before him.
'These are the ones I use when I fight,' said he; and he commencedpatting with both hands the sides of one of them, and he beganto swell out, so that he soon filled the lodge by his bulk;and he had great strong teeth. When he attained his fullsize he growled, and from that moment, as from instinct,he jumped out at the door and met the bear, who in another leapwould have reached the lodge. A terrible combat ensued.
The skies rang with the howls of the fierce monsters.
The remaining dog soon took the field. The brothers, at the onset,took the advice of the old man, and escaped through the oppositeside of the lodge. They had not proceeded far before they heardthe dying cry of one of the dogs, and soon after of the other.
'Well,' said the leader, 'the old man will share their fate:
so run; he will soon be after us.' They started with fresh vigor,for they had received food from the old man: but very soon the bearcame in sight, and again was fast gaining upon them. Again the leaderasked the brothers if they could do nothing for their safety.
All were silent. The leader, running forward, did as before.
'I dreamed,' he cried, 'that, being in great trouble, an oldman helped me who was a manito; we shall soon see his lodge.'
Taking courage, they still went on. After going a short distancethey saw the lodge of the old manito. They entered immediatelyand claimed his protection, telling him a manito was after them.
The old man, setting meat before them, said: 'Eat! who is amanito? there is no manito but me; there is none whom I fear;'
and the earth trembled as the monster advanced. The old manopened the door and saw him coming. He shut it slowly, and said:
'Yes, my grandchildren, you have brought trouble upon me.'
Procuring his medicine-sack, he took out his small war-clubs ofblack stone, and told the young men to run through the other sideof the lodge. As he handled the clubs, they became very large,and the old man stepped out just as the bear reached the door.
Then striking him with one of the clubs, it broke in pieces;the bear stumbled. Renewing the attempt with the otherwar-club, that also was broken, but the bear fell senseless.
Each blow the old man gave him sounded like a clap of thunder,and the howls of the bear ran along till they filled theheavens.
The young men had now run some distance, when they looked back.
They could see that the bear was recovering from the blows.
First he moved his paws, and soon they saw him riseon his feet. The old man shared the fate of the first,for they now heard his cries as he was torn in pieces.
Again the monster was in pursuit, and fast overtaking them.
Not yet discouraged, the young men kept on their way;but the bear was now so close, that the leader once more appliedto his brothers, but they could do nothing. 'Well,' said he,'my dreams will soon be exhausted; after this I have but one more.'
He advanced, invoking his guardian spirit to aid him.
'Once,' said he, 'I dreamed that, being sorely pressed, I came to alarge lake, on the shore of which was a canoe, partly out of water,having ten paddles all in readiness. Do not fear,' he cried,'we shall soon get it.' And so it was, even as he had said.
Coming to the lake, they saw the canoe with ten paddles,and immediately they embarked. Scarcely had they reached the centerof the lake, when they saw the bear arrive at its borders.
Lifting himself on his hind legs, he looked all around.
Then he waded into the water; then losing his footing he turned back,and commenced making the circuit of the lake. Meantime the partyremained stationary in the center to watch his movements.
He traveled all around, till at last he came to the place fromwhence he started. Then he commenced drinking up the water,and they saw the current fast setting in towards his open mouth.
The leader encouraged them to paddle hard for the opposite shore.
When only a short distance from land, the current had increasedso much, that they were drawn back by it, and all their effortsto reach it were in vain.
Then the leader again spoke, telling them to meet their fates manfully.
'Now is the time, Mudjikewis,' said he, 'to show your prowess.
Take courage and sit at the bow of the canoe; and when it approacheshis mouth, try what effect your club will have on his head.'
He obeyed, and stood ready to give the blow; while the leader,who steered, directed the canoe for the open mouth of the monster.
Rapidly advancing, they were just about to enter his mouth, when Mudjikewisstruck him a tremendous blow on the head, and gave the SAW-SAW-QUAN.
The bear's limbs doubled under him, and he fell, stunned by the blow.
But before Mudjikewis could renew it, the monster disgorged allthe water he had drank, with a force which sent the canoe with greatvelocity to the opposite shore. Instantly leaving the canoe,again they fled, and on they went till they were completely exhausted.
The earth again shook, and soon they saw the monster hardafter them. Their spirits drooped, and they felt discouraged.
The leader exerted himself, by actions and words, to cheer them up;and once more he asked them if they thought of nothing, or coulddo nothing for their rescue; and, as before, all were silent.
'Then,' he said, 'this is the last time I can apply to my guardian spirit.
Now, if we do not succeed, our fates are decided.' He ran forward,invoking his spirit with great earnestness, and gave the yell.
'We shall soon arrive,' said he to his brothers, 'at the place wheremy last guardian spirit dwells. In him I place great confidence.
Do not, do not be afraid, or your limbs will be fear-bound. We shallsoon reach his lodge. Run, run,' he cried.
Returning now to Iamo, he had passed all the time in the samecondition we had left him, the head directing his sister,in order to procure food, where to place the magic arrows,and speaking at long intervals. One day the sister saw the eyesof the head brighten, as if with pleasure. At last it spoke.
'Oh, sister,' it said, 'in what a pitiful situation youhave been the cause of placing me! Soon, very soon, a partyof young men will arrive and apply to me for aid; but alas!
How can I give what I would have done with so much pleasure?
Nevertheless, take two arrows, and place them where you havebeen in the habit of placing the others, and have meat preparedand cooked before they arrive. When you hear them comingand calling on my name, go out and say, "Alas! it is longago that an accident befell him. I was the cause of it."If they still come near, ask them in, and set meat before them.
And now you must follow my directions strictly. When the bearis near, go out and meet him. You will take my medicine-sack, bowsand arrows, and my head. You must then untie the sack, and spreadout before you my paints of all colors, my war-eagle feathers,my tufts of dried hair, and whatever else it contains.
As the bear approaches, you will take all these articles,one by one, and say to him, "This is my deceased brother's paint,"and so on with all the other articles, throwing each of themas far as you can. The virtues contained in them will causehim to totter; and, to complete his destruction, you will takemy head, and that too you will cast as far off as you can,crying aloud, "See, this is my deceased brother's head."He will then fall senseless. By this time the young menwill have eaten, and you will call them to your assistance.
You must then cut the carcass into pieces, yes, into small pieces,and scatter them to the four winds; for, unless you do this,he will again revive.' She promised that all should bedone as he said. She had only time to prepare the meat,when the voice of the leader was heard calling upon Iamo for aid.
The woman went out and said as her brother had directed.
But the war party being closely pursued, came up to the lodge.
She invited them in, and placed the meat before them.
While they were eating, they heard the bear approaching.
Untying the medicine-sack and taking the head, she had allin readiness for his approach. When he came up she didas she had been told; and, before she had expended the paintsand feathers, the bear began to totter, but, still advancing,came close to the woman. Saying as she was commanded, she thentook the head, and cast it as far from her as she could.
As it rolled along the ground, the blood, excited by the feelingsof the head in this terrible scene, gushed from the nose and mouth.
The bear, tottering, soon fell with a tremendous noise.
Then she cried for help, and the young men camerushing out, having partially regained their strength andspirits.
Mudjikewis, stepping up, gave a yell and struck him a blow uponthe head. This he repeated, till it seemed like a mass of brains,while the others, as quick as possible, cut him into very small pieces,which they then scattered in every direction. While thus employed,happening to look around where they had thrown the meat,wonderful to behold, they saw starting up and turning off in everydirection small black bears, such as are seen at the present day.
The country was soon overspread with these black animals.
And it was from this monster that the present race of bearsderived their origin.
Having thus overcome their pursuer, they returned to the lodge.
In the meantime, the woman, gathering the implements she had used,and the head, placed them again in the sack. But the head did notspeak again, probably from its great exertion to overcome the monster.
Having spent so much time and traversed so vast a country in their flight,the young men gave up the idea of ever returning to their own country,and game being plenty, they determined to remain where they now were.
One day they moved off some distance from the lodge for thepurpose of hunting, having left the wampum with the woman.
They were very successful, and amused themselves, as all youngmen do when alone, by talking and jesting with each other.
One of them spoke and said, 'We have all this sport to ourselves;let us go and ask our sister if she will not let us bring the headto this place, as it is still alive. It may be pleased to hear us talk,and be in our company. In the meantime take food to our sister.'
They went and requested the head. She told them to take it,and they took it to their hunting-grounds, and tried to amuse it,but only at times did they see its eyes beam with pleasure.
One day, while busy in their encampment, they were unexpectedly attackedby unknown Indians. The skirmish was long contested and bloody;many of their foes were slain, but still they were thirty to one.
The young men fought desperately till they were all killed.
The attacking party then retreated to a height of ground,to muster their men, and to count the number of missing and slain.
One of their young men had stayed away, and, in endeavoringto overtake them, came to the place where the head was hung up.
Seeing that alone retain animation, he eyed it for some timewith fear and surprise. However, he took it down and openedthe sack, and was much pleased to see the beautiful feathers,one of which he placed on his head.
Starting off, it waved gracefully over him till he reached his party,when he threw down the head and sack, and told them how he hadfound it, and that the sack was full of paints and feathers.
They all looked at the head and made sport of it.
Numbers of the young men took the paint and painted themselves,and one of the party took the head by the hair and said--'Look, you ugly thing, and see your paints on the faces of warriors.'
But the feathers were so beautiful, that numbers of themalso placed them on their heads. Then again they used allkinds of indignity to the head, for which they were in turnrepaid by the death of those who had used the feathers.
Then the chief commanded them to throw away all except the head.
'We will see,' said he, 'when we get home, what we can do with it.
We will try to make it shut its eyes.'
When they reached their homes they took it to the council-lodge,and hung it up before the fire, fastening it with raw hide soaked,which would shrink and become tightened by the action of the fire.
'We will then see,' they said, 'if we cannot make it shut its eyes.'
Meantime, for several days, the sister had been waiting for the youngmen to bring back the head; till, at last, getting impatient,she went in search of it. The young men she found lying withinshort distances of each other, dead, and covered with wounds.
Various other bodies lay scattered in different directions around them.
She searched for the head and sack, but they were nowhere to be found.
She raised her voice and wept, and blackened her face. Then shewalked in different directions, till she came to the place from whencethe head had been taken. Then she found the magic bow and arrows,where the young men, ignorant of their qualities, had left them.
She thought to herself that she would find her brother's head, and cameto a piece of rising ground, and there saw some of his paints and feathers.
These she carefully put up, and hung upon the branch of a tree tillher return.
At dusk she arrived at the first lodge of a very extensive village.
Here she used a charm, common among Indians when they wish to meetwith a kind reception. On applying to the old man and womanof the lodge, she was kindly received. She made known her errand.
The old man promised to aid her, and told her the head was hung up beforethe council-fire, and that the chiefs of the village, with their young men,kept watch over it continually. The former are considered as manitoes.
She said she only wished to see it, and would be satisfied if she could onlyget to the door of the lodge. She knew she had not sufficient power to takeit by force. 'Come with me,' said the Indian, 'I will take you there.'
They went, and they took their seats near the door. The council-lodgewas filled with warriors, amusing themselves with games, and constantlykeeping up a fire to smoke the head, as they said, to make dry meat.
They saw the head move, and not knowing what to make of it, one spokeand said: 'Ha! ha! It is beginning to feel the effects of the smoke.'
The sister looked up from the door, and her eyes met those of her brother,and tears rolled down the cheeks of the head. 'Well,' said the chief,'I thought we would make you do something at last. Look! look at it--shedding tears,' said he to those around him; and they all laughed and passedtheir jokes upon it. The chief, looking around, and observing the woman,after some time said to the man who came with her: 'Who have you got there?
I have never seen that woman before in our village.' 'Yes,' replied the man,'you have seen her; she is a relation of mine, and seldom goes out. She staysat my lodge, and asked me to allow her to come with me to this place.'
In the center of the lodge sat one of those young men who are always forward,and fond of boasting and displaying themselves before others.
'Why,' said he, 'I have seen her often, and it is to this lodge I go almostevery night to court her.' All the others laughed and continued their games.
The young man did not know he was telling a lie to the woman's advantage,who by that means escaped.
She returned to the man's lodge, and immediately set out for herown country. Coming to the spot where the bodies of her adoptedbrothers lay, she placed them together, their feet toward the east.
Then taking an ax which she had, she cast it up into the air,crying out, 'Brothers, get up from under it, or it will fall on you.'
This she repeated three times, and the third time the brothers all aroseand stood on their feet.
Mudjikewis commenced rubbing his eyes and stretching himself.
'Why,' said he, 'I have overslept myself.' 'No, indeed,'
said one of the others, 'do you not know we were all killed,and that it is our sister who has brought us to life?'
The young men took the bodies of their enemies and burned them.
Soon after, the woman went to procure wives for them,in a distant country, they knew not where; but she returnedwith ten young women, which she gave to the ten young men,beginning with the eldest. Mudjikewis stepped to and fro,uneasy lest he should not get the one he liked.
But he was not disappointed, for she fell to his lot.
And they were well matched, for she was a female magician.
They then all moved into a very large lodge, and their sistertold them that the women must now take turns in goingto her brother's head every night, trying to untie it.
They all said they would do so with pleasure. The eldestmade the first attempt, and with a rushing noise she fledthrough the air.
Toward daylight she returned. She had been unsuccessful, as she succeededin untying only one of the knots. All took their turns regularly,and each one succeeded in untying only one knot each time.
But when the youngest went, she commenced the work as soonas she reached the lodge; although it had always been occupied,still the Indians never could see any one. For ten nights now,the smoke had not ascended, but filled the lodge and drove them out.
This last night they were all driven out, and the young woman carriedoff the head.
The young people and the sister heard the young womancoming high through the air, and they heard her saying:
'Prepare the body of our brother.' And as soon as they heard it,they went to a small lodge where the black body of Iamo lay.
His sister commenced cutting the neck part, from which the neckhad been severed. She cut so deep as to cause it to bleed;and the others who were present, by rubbing the body andapplying medicines, expelled the blackness. In the meantime,the one who brought it, by cutting the neck of the head, caused thatalso to bleed.
As soon as she arrived, they placed that close to the body,and, by aid of medicines and various other means, succeeded inrestoring Iamo to all his former beauty and manliness.
All rejoiced in the happy termination of their troubles,and they had spent some time joyfully together, when Iamo said:
'Now I will divide the wampum,' and getting the belt which containedit, he commenced with the eldest, giving it in equal portions.
But the youngest got the most splendid and beautiful,as the bottom of the belt held the richest and rarest.
They were told that, since they had all once died, and wererestored to life, they were no longer mortal, but spirits,and they were assigned different stations in the invisible world.
Only Mudjikewis's place was, however, named. He was to directthe west wind, hence generally called Kebeyun, there to remain for ever.
They were commanded, as they had it in their power, to do goodto the inhabitants of the earth, and, forgetting their sufferingsin procuring the wampum, to give all things with a liberal hand.
And they were also commanded that it should also be held by them sacred;those grains or shells of the pale hue to be emblematic of peace,while those of the darker hue would lead to evil and war.
The spirits then, amid songs and shouts, took their flight to theirrespective abodes on high; while Iamo, with his sister Iamoqua,descended into the depths below.
The End