THE MISSISSIPPI. 103 
never be confounded by astonis:ment, or excited by ad- 
miration. You may float upon its bosom, and be lost 
amid its world of waters, and yet see nothing of its vast- 
ness; for the river has no striking beauty; its waves 
run scarce as high as a child can reach; upon its banks 
we find no towering precipices, no cloud-capped moun- 
tains—all, all is dull,—a dreary waste. 
Let us float however, day after day, upon its appa- 
rently sluggish surface, and by comparison once begin 
to comprehend its magnitude, and the mind becomes 
overwhelmed with fearful admiration. There seems to 
rise up from its muddy waters a spirit robed in mystery, 
that points back for its beginning to the deluge, and 
whispers audibly, ‘TI roll on, and on, and on, altering, 
but ot altered, while time exists!” 
Here, too, we behold a power terrible in its loneli- 
ness; for on the Mississippi a sameness meets your eye 
every where, with scarce a single change of scene. 
A river incomprehensible, illimitable, and mysterious, 
flows ever onward, tossing to and fro under its depths, 
in its own channel, as if fretting in its ordered limits ; 
swallowing its banks here, and disgorging them else- 
where, so suddenly that the attentive pilot, as he repeats 
his frequent route, feels that he knows not where he is, 
and often hesitates fearfully along in the mighty flood, 
guided only by the certain lead; and again and again is 
he startled by the ominous cry, “ Less fathom deep!” 
