FAMILIAR SCENES O.N THE MISSISSiTn. 1 19 



homes, gave an expression of nialignit}', as well as sor- 

 row, and then silently and sluggishly sank into roposo. 

 as if nothing unusual had occurred. 



" That old fellow brags well of his infernal deeds," 

 observed one of the white men accompanying the In- 

 dians, " and the red-skinned devils about here drink it 

 in as a Cuba hound would blood." 



The intense heat of the weather, and the quietness 

 that reigned* so profoundly among the Indians, broken 

 only by the saw and hammer of the carpenter making 

 coflBns at the capstan, made us sigh for a landing-place, 

 and a separation from such melancholy scenes. This 

 desire was encouraged from the well-known fact, that 

 the savages grew every hour more troublesome, and the 

 song of the dying old chief had neither allayed their 

 feelings, nor made them more contented. 



The morning following the death of the old chief 

 had been preceded by one of those nights in which the 

 fog rose from the water so thick, that, in the hyperboli- 

 cal language of the boatman, you could make feather- 

 beds of it. The pilot had " felt his way along " for 

 many hours, until the sudden crash that shook every 

 thing in the boat, convinced us that we were aground. 

 The engine stopped, and left us in perfect silence and 

 obscurity. 



Long after our accustomed hour of rising, we went 



3]S!T/r«.v V^ v# ijj^ 



'# • •• • 



