A FLOOD. 157 



by boats, laden with produce, which running out from all the smaller 

 streams, float silently towards the City of New Orleans, their owners 

 meanwhile not very well assured of finding a landing-place even there. 

 The water is covered with yellow foam and pumice, the latter having 

 floated from the Rocky Mountains of the north-west. The eddies are 

 larger and more powerful than ever. Here and there tracts of forest are 

 observed undermined, the trees gradually giving way, and falling into 

 the stream. Cattle, horses, bears and deer are seen at times attempting 

 to swim across the impetuous mass of ioaming and boiling water ; whilst 

 here and there a Vulture or an Eagle is observed perched on a bloated 

 carcass, tearing it up in pieces, as regardless of the flood, as on former 

 occasions it would have been of the numerous sawyers and planters, with 

 which the surface of the river is covered, when the water is low. Even 

 the steamer is frequently distressed. The numberless trees and logs that 

 float along break its paddles and retard its progress. Besides, it is on 

 such occasions difficult to procure fuel to maintain its fires ; and it is 

 only at very distant intervals that a wood-yard can be found which the 

 water has not carried off". 



Following the river in your canoe, you reach those parts of the shores 

 that are protected against the overflowing of the waters, and are called 

 Levees. There you find the whole population of the district at work re- 

 pairing and augmenting those artificial barriers, which are several feet 

 above the level of the fields. Every person appears to dread the 

 opening of a crevasse, by which the waters may rush into his fields. In 

 spite of all exertions, however, the crevasse opens, the water bursts impe- 

 tuously over the plantations, and lays waste the crops which so lately were 

 blooming in all the luxuriance of spring. It opens up a new channel, 

 which, for aught I know to the contrary, may carry its waters even to 

 the Mexican Gulf. 



I have floated on the Mississippi and Ohio when thus swollen, and 

 have in different places visited the submersed lands of the interior, pro- 

 pelling a light canoe by the aid of a paddle. In this manner I have tra- 

 versed immense portions of the country overflowed by the waters of 

 these rivers, and, particularly whilst floating over the Mississippi bottom- 

 lands, I have been struck with awe at the sight. Little or no current is 

 met with, unless when the canoe passes over the bed of a bayou. All is 

 silent and melancholy, unless when the mournful bleeting of the hem- 

 med in Deer reaches your ear, or the dismal scream of an Eagle or a 



