168 A WEEK ON WALDEN'S BIDGE. 



narrower and narrower till it rushes through 

 the " Suck." Even at that elevation we 

 could hear the roar of the rapids. A short 

 distance above the Suck, and almost at 

 our feet, lay Williams Island. A farmer's 

 Eden it looked, with its broad, newly- 

 planted fields, and its house surrounded by 

 outbuildings and orchard-trees. The view 

 included Chattanooga, Missionary Ridge, 

 and much else ; but its special charm was 

 its foreground, the part peculiar to itself, — 

 the valley, the river, and Raccoon Mountain. 

 Along the river-banks were small clearings, 

 each with its one cabin, and generally a 

 figure or two ploughing or planting. A 

 man in a strangely long boat — a dugout, 

 probably — was making his difficult way 

 upstream with a paddle. The Tennessee, 

 in the neighborhood of Chattanooga, at all 

 events, is too swift for pleasure-boating. 

 Seen from above, as I commonly saw it, it 

 looked tranquil enough ; but when I came 

 down to its edge, now and then, the speed 

 and energetic sweep of the smooth current 

 laid fast hold upon me. From the mountains 

 to the sea is a long, long journey, and no 

 wonder the river felt in haste. 



