158 A FLOOD. 



Raven is heard, as the foul bird rises, disturbed by your approach, from 

 the carcass on which it was allaying its craving appetite. Bears, Cou- 

 gars, Lynxes, and all other quadrupeds that can ascend the trees, are ob- 

 served crouched among their top branches. Hungry in the midst of 

 abundance, although they see floating around them the animals on which 

 they usually prey, they dare not venture to swim to them. Fatigued 

 by the exertions which they have made in reaching the dry land, they 

 will there stand the hunter's fire, as if to die by a ball were better than 

 to perish amid the waste of waters. On occasions like this, all these ani- 

 mals are shot by hundreds. 



Opposite the City of Natchez, which stands on a bluff bank of consi- 

 derable elevation, the extent of inundated land is immense, the greater 

 portion of the tract lying between the Mississippi and the Red River, 

 which is more than thirty miles in breadth, being under water. The 

 mail-bag has often been carried through the immersed forests, in a canoe, 

 for even a greater distance, in order to be forwarded to Natchitochez. 



But now, kind reader, observe this great flood gradually subsiding, 

 and again see the mighty changes which it has effected. The waters 

 have now been carried into the distant ocean. The earth is everywhere 

 covered by a deep deposit of muddy loam, which in drying splits into 

 deep and narrow chasms, presenting a reticulated appearance, and from 

 which, as the weather becomes warmer, disagreeable, and at times noxious, 

 exhalations arise, and fill the lower stratum of the atmosphere as with a 

 dense fog. The banks of the river have almost everywhere been broken 

 down in a greater or less degree. Large streams are now found to exist, 

 where none were formerly to be seen, having forced their way in direct 

 lines from the upper parts of the bends. These are by the navigator 

 called short-cuts. Some of them have proved large enough to produce a 

 change in the navigation of the Mississippi. If I mistake not, one of 

 these, known by the name of the Grand Cut-off, and only a few miles in 

 length, has diverted the river from its natural course, and has shortened 

 it by fifty miles. The upper parts of the islands present a bulwark con- 

 sisting of an enormous mass of floated trees of all kinds, which have 

 lodged there. Large sand-banks have been completely removed by the 

 impetuous whirls of the waters, and have been deposited in other places. 

 Some appear quite new to the eye of the navigator, who has to mark 

 their situation and bearings in his log-book. The trees on the margins of 

 the banks have in many parts given way. They are seen bending over 



