FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 28, 1903. 
Floating Down the Mississippi. 
II. — St. Louis. 
I LEFT Northwood just as the leaves began to as- 
sume their most gorgeous autumn hues. One is 
tempted to think that each season in the Adirondacks 
is the loveHest. Winter is cold and clear and crisp, 
and summer warm and beautiful, and in the spring the 
trout bite, and in the fall the leaves turn — so at any 
time the resident there turns his back on the region 
with regret, even if going to some place more famed 
or of more human interest. The first stage of my jour- 
ney down the Mississippi River was, of course, to 
the banks — shores — of that stream. 1 went by way of 
Buffalo, stayed there over night that I might see as 
much of the land as possible by daylight. I had in. 
mind a continuous dajdight tour, but had to wait five 
or six hours at Cleveland, and so had only a glimpse, 
as one might say, of the wide, flat prairie lands of Illi- 
nois. Of course, I don't know what I didn't sec, but 
all that I did from Cleveland to East St. Louis were 
some clumps of trees somewhat like bouquets, arranged 
around bouses and farm buildings, some monstrously 
large corn fields and long fences. Some of the woods 
were natural, and there were enough trees to interrupt 
one's view of the horizon at the end of the prairie — a 
very monotonous view, but entirely necessary in the 
economy of the world, and one not without its beauty 
to humanity. In fact, the traveler into the mountain 
country is usually told that he ought to go over in the 
next county, for "there's a good country, yes sir! 
Finest farms ye ever see; that's a fact, stranger!" To 
the man who Avants to see fine farms I commend the 
cultivated prairie. 
When the train pitched down into the valley of the 
big river and the names on the stations, corresponding 
with those on the time table indicated that the Missis- 
sippi was "coming, but an hour late," my interest grew 
as I watched the ground go past. After a time we 
came to a multitude of switches, and almost immediate- 
ly we were going pellmell through banks of freight 
cars, as usual, just when I wanted most to see what 
was beyond. But we climbed an embankment, and then 
there were ponds of water, a something that seemed to 
be a dirty, yellow creek — cahokia? — then more freight 
cars and a town on many of w'hose buildings the water 
mark, done in yellow, was conspicuous. Some of the 
houses were out of joint, one corner hoisted and the 
other settled in a more or less extravagant manner. 
About this time the porter came and said, "Brush you, 
sir!" and as he brushed I didn't notice what the train 
was doing. A few moments later, when I sat down, I 
observed that to the left was a wide stream, and after 
a couple of sweeps of the eye came to the conclusion 
that it was the Mississippi River, down which my way 
was to lead. The train had just crossed it. It was 
here that I felt disappointed by what I had come to 
gaze upon. Such looking water I had seen only in 
foul puddles in roads or roadside ditches, and I act- 
ually reassured myself as to the size by a memory of 
the Tennessee. I presume that the ride across the 
prairies had changed the focus of the eyes, and the 
proportion and perspective of things was too well cal- 
culated to show the immensity of the features that 
were before me. But at each look the size seemed to 
increase — which it has not failed to do down to this 
writing, in a chute opposite St. Genevieve with my boat 
tied to Moro Island willows. 
The river is the last thing an average citizen of St. 
Louis would take a visitor to look at as a town sight, 
perhaps, especially these days when they are thinking 
mostly about a fair which they expect to hold next 
year. "Have you seen the fair grounds yet?" is likely 
to be the first thing any one asks a stranger, but these 
citizens are seldom associated in the remotest degree 
with the everlasting continuousperformance— vaudeville. 
comed}^ tragedy, aj^e! and opera, too, which is called 
The Mississippi, and various other things, depending 
on circumstances. The ones faithful to the river do 
not say, "Have you seen the Mississippi?" but "You 
just ought to have seen it," at some memorable time, as 
last spring, when its waters crept up the streets lead- 
ing down to the levee, when dismembered houses 
floated past with big trees stripped of all but the largest 
roots and branches, plunging and sawing their way 
through the other drift, and when the wail of human 
distress was heard and answered from side to side of 
the continent because the Mississippi was "out of its 
banks." 
After one has talked with a man who has floated on, 
fished in. watched, loved and drank the Big River for 
a dozen years, a mere city looses its hold on one's in- 
terest somehbw, . and the thought of such common 
things as stores, theaters, principal streets and such 
like fail to awaken curiosit}', but St. Louis has claims 
almost if not quite equal to those of its neighbor, the 
river. 
I was in town ten days, and was unusually fortu- 
nate in having a cousin, Jimmie Smiley, for guide. Be- 
ing a useful citizen, Jimmie works by day, so we had 
to see the sights by night. It will be remembered that 
one of St. Louis's famous mayors said to some citi- 
zens who complained that there were too few lights in 
town. "You haf the moon yet, ain't idt?" I was told 
the first night that I would better leave my valuables 
at home lest I get held up. I expected to see a pretty 
bad town, something wild, wooly and hilarious after 
that, but judged by New York, St. Louis looked a good 
deal more reputable, clear-eyed, quiet, with a good 
deal of the big country village in the bearing of its 
people. The newspapers have items from surrounding 
towns like a county seat local, but they have the na- 
tional news, too. One is startled by such words as 
"saloonist" and "feudists," and there is a noticeable 
use of the "prominent citizen" style of personal. And 
these papers live in as fine offices as one can find any- 
Fhere— clean, wealthy and not gaudy, but dignified, so 
it is plain that they satisfy their constituents, and "old- 
est subscribers." 
The City H^ll is a good, big structure looking up 
Walnut street. "I don't suppose it will ever be fin- 
ished," Jimmie said. Answering to "why?" merely the 
word "Politics." "What's the matter here in politics, 
anyhow?" I asked. "Don't the people vote?" "That's 
just the trouble," Jimmie replied, "they vote too often." 
It v/as light on a dark subject. 
I don't know any better way of describing St. Louis 
and its nature than to make mention of certain signs 
posted conspicuously on some of the churches, which 
read about like this: 
I NOTICE! I 
5 $50 Reward will be paid for 3 
J Information leading to the 5 
S Arrest and Conviction of « 
, * Any One * 
5 Doing Damage to tliis Edifice. * 
St. Louis has churches, and it is needful that the 
lovch' stained glass windows be protected from the 
missiles of irreverent individuals. One may guess from 
this that St. Louis is a place of many contrasts. One 
can travel along Olive street and, noticing the fur- 
nished room houses and the occupants on the front 
steps, will see that to this city many young men have 
come in order to "push ahead." The competition in 
"getting on" is great — so large and by such able men 
that the city is spreading out in a fashion that leads 
some of the leading citizens, and others, to believe and 
say that it will one day m?ke Chicago rustle for an 
alliance. If they could have the river made into a deep 
sea highway, and St. Louis an ocean port, then St. 
Louis in the middle of the continent, with its command 
of traffic North, West and South — well, it is said the 
town is beyond the days of boomers, but the citizen 
can still wax eloquent, more especially the real estate 
dealer. 
A good deal of Western history centers at St. Louis, 
beginning 'way back with Laclede, and coming down 
to the expeditions to explore the West of a few years 
ago. The history of New Orleans, with its foreign con- 
nections — French and Spanish — has perhaps a more in- 
dividual character, but one must consider St. Louis as 
a part of the great West, the center of the romantic 
trade wdiich gave rise to such things as the keelboat- 
man, the raftsmen, the American houseboatman, the 
inland steamboat traffic — with its greed manifested of 
old, in races of a most remarkable character. Local 
historians, in the face of scores of records of steam- 
boat explosions and other disasters, say that it is utter- 
ly impossible to collect anything like even approximate- 
ly accurate data of the losses in life, property or even 
the number of boats that were destroyed on the river. 
That long, stone-faced levee of St. Louis, almost empty 
now, but once the scene of the smoky confusion at- 
tendant on much steamer traffic, has in its story much 
romance. Something like sixteen hundred lives were 
lost right there in one explosion, and who can tell 
what gamblers, slave roustabouts, rich planters, poor 
fortune seekers, successful and unsuccessful- lovers 
came to that place, now in the shadows of the elevated 
steel railroad structure which ruiiS aloirg the top of 
the levee? 
This part of the story of St. Louis has come to an 
end now. A new story is likely to begin there on the 
levee — a mere step, with sloping river face — some day, 
for Major Casey, under the Mississippi River Commis- 
sion, is taming the great river as far as Cairo slowly, 
but it is believed, surely, and a new trade may come 
to give the river a book of figures, but ncA^er such an- 
other as one can get hints of in Mark Twain's com- 
parativelj' tame "Life on the Mississippi," Devol's 
rather exaggerative "Life of a Mississippi Gambler," 
or Gould's curious compilation called the "History of 
Steamboats on the Mississippi." And these hinLs are 
all that remain of the vast number of happenings which 
are commonlj' called of "human interest." If there 
were much more than hints, it would take a consider- 
able library to contain them. As it is, the Mississippi 
River Commission ought to collect all the documents 
relating to the river. As things are now done, if a 
steamer blows up, the name is merely marked off the 
list. There are some private collections of Mississippi 
books, and every historical society of a State adjoin- 
ing the river have river materials naturally. In St. 
Louis there are collectors of Americana relating to the 
Big river, or, perhaps, the local reporter would call 
them "collectors of Mississippiana," and let it go at 
that. 
Just at present most of the young people of the city 
are going to dances, public and private. The dancing 
masters have large classes, clearing considerable proiiis 
from the price of admission as well as from pupils. 
Hashagen's is a distinct and unique institution. Three 
or four brothers, having in mind, perhaps, the Coney 
Island music hall and vaudeville, and a dancing plat- 
form, combined the two with a beer garden, Avith such 
'.success that the season opened a few nights ago with 
an attendance of 4,000 persons or thereabouts, not one 
in a hundred of the men present was able to boast a 
mustache. A large proportion of the girls were in 
short dresses. Clerks, office boys, errand boys, girls 
from the tobacco factories, cash girls, and the like 
Avere there in the hundreds — "owning the place." Every 
night, Sundays included, a thousand or two go to this 
hall and dance, meet their friends, and Avatch more or 
less amateur talent do various stunts on the stage in 
a great room adjoining the "ball room" at th€ rate of 
25 cents for the men and 10 cents for the women. Beer, 
the universal St. Louis drink, and soda water are sold 
at the tables, the waiters are not insistent. When 
the dancing fad gives Avay to something else Has- 
hagen's Avill fade Avith the other halls, but for the pres- 
ent the alternates of dance and show, both short, com- 
mands a larger attendance by far, than the "Avine gar- 
dens," and their mere shows — and much more re- 
putable. 
In the summer time St. Louis has the usual resorts 
to Avhich the citizens go to get fresh air, and one may 
ride 18 or 20 miles out of tOAvn on a trolley car. 
Jimmie told of taking such a ride and being stalled by 
tilt car jumping the track. He got home some time 
after daybreak. But to the Easterner these things 
aren't a circumstance to the excursions on the river 
in Avhich there are tAvo or three big river steamers 
engaged. When the floods are at the highest the 
steamers adA^ertise "Flood excursions," and invite every 
one to go out and look at the high Avater. The prices 
are surprising. One may go to the flood for the rea- 
sonable price of 25 cents, and the sights at such times 
are not to be imagined. Last spring homes of every 
loAA'land description passed under the Eads Bridge, 
some of them in such good condition as to make the 
counting of the stories, and even rooms, possible. 
Thousands Avent to see the sights of the drift and shore. 
In East St. Louis newspaper men, who took photo- 
graphs, Avere run out of tOAvn by real estate dealers. 
The real St. Louis — in Missouri — is on a bank so 
high that only the Avater front is affected — a water front 
of Avarehouses and roustcr saloons. 
Probably the feature of excursion life in St. Louis 
that is most interesting is the fact that all summer 
long, night after night, two or three of the largest 
boats on the river carry people free down the river 
forty miles or so and back again. No fare is asked, 
but the bar bills pay expenses and the profit necessary. 
One can fancy the result of "free excursions" on New 
\ork's East Side, Avhich turns out so strong Avhen a 
5-cent fare to Coney Island is had. So far as I learned, 
it costs the citizen of St. Louis to be amused about 25 
per cent, of what it does even an Adirondack Avoods- 
man. I don't knoAV about the theaters, for the sights 
of any toAAm- — the real ones — are to my mind far more 
interesting than any imitation ever seen before the foot- 
lights — but this is not to say that I Avon't go aboard the 
floating theaters, of Avhich there are several on the big 
nvcr, at the first opportunity. It is said these, shows 
are considerable to look at. 
I found the days of my stay in St. Louis to be of 
constant interest. Ki the office of the Mississippi 
River Commission Captain Ladue told of some_ of the 
features which make the commission one of the most 
remarkable institutions under the Government — its 
fight Avith the river, which changes its height countless 
times every year, and at each change begins to undo 
the AA'ork of a dozen other stages, and begins other 
Avork of its OAvn. Captain Ladue gave me many facts 
that Avere necessary to understand Avhat is done by and 
to the river. In speaking of one feature of the Avork, 
he said: 
"We Avork down with our dredges and get a' channel 
made Avhich is good and fit; but just then along comes 
a flood bulling right through, undoing' all that was 
done before, and compelling another dredging." 
A barber at Commerce said later to me: "Yesseh! 
The St. Francis has the look of goin', but hit ain't 
the body. This yere Mississippi — ^hit don't look hit, 
but hit sure has the body; yesseh!" 
There was that in the tone of Captain Ladue's voice 
Avhen he spoke of the Mississippi flood "bulling 
through" that told the Avhole story of the GoA-ernment 
Avork on the river. The tone was indicative of the 
weariness in the Avork of dredging, of doing the things 
over and over again. I secured the maps of the river 
issued by the commission, and these are the most in- 
teresting descriptions of the river's nature that one can 
find — sand bars, and toAvheads, cutoffs and bends. 
Mr. Horace Kephart helped me in regard to my in- 
experience in river camping more than I ever Avas 
before in so short a period. He suggested carrying a 
sponge to Avash out the boat, and a few days later, in 
the hardest shower of the season, that sponge saved 
me many kinds of discomfort, as I squeezed it dry after 
soaking up some of the Avater Avhich fell in the ends 
of the boat just at daylight. The Avarning as to the 
caving banks, mud in the mouths of creeks, not landing 
in AvilloAvs, etc., have all come into use — so I have many 
reasons for being grateful to Mr. Kephart, and to St. 
Lo'-:is, Avhere I met him. 
Cn Oct. 3 I was all ready to start doAvn the river. I 
had made all my purchases of groceries, and other 
things, and Avith a day to spare to remember forgotten 
t'-ings throAvn in, I ordered an expressman to come 
'lound to take my duffle doAvn to Medarts, Avhere it 
Avas all to be loaded on the clinker skiff and sent afloat. 
Time 9 A. M., on Saturday, Oct. 3, sure. But it was 
10:30 on Saturday Avhen the expressman came, and 
another delay getting into the Avater, so it Avas finally 
2:35 P. M. Avhen Jimmie and I Avent afloat in a strong 
Avind up stream, Avhich tried the boat considerably more 
than I wished once we were beyond the eddy, where we 
launched. '■ ; ■ 
Jimmie Avas going doAvn the river and spend the first 
night Avith me for luck, and then come back on the 
cars. H aving launched at the loAver end of the city, Ave 
soon had a distant a^cav of the sort that is ahvays beau- 
tiful — a Avind throAving the black coal smoke above dim- 
ly seen buildings, beyond a Avide, tossing sea-hke ex- 
panse of Avater, growing more distant, more ethereal, 
the slosh and chuck of the Avaves being the only sounds 
to be heard, save in the rush and tumble Avhen piles 
of rip-rap sent the current away from caving banks. 
We dropped beloAV Carondelet, and then were running 
through the AvilloAv land. 
Raymond S. Spears. 
Vifg-ioia Shootingf. 
A NUMBER of sportsmen are taking advantage of the 
opportunities offered by the management of the Hotel 
Chamberlin, at Old Point Comfort, and several good 
bags have recently been brought in from the game pre- 
serve on the peninsula, near JamestOAvn. Mr. E. N. Gal- 
lagher and Mr. C. B. CaldAvell, of Philadelphia, got over 
one htmdred sora, and Mr. Homer, of Philadelphia, thirty- 
six quail and a Avild turkey. 
The camp in connection Avith the preserve is perfectly 
comfortable and convenient. The cabin is of pine logs, 
and has a very large open fire, with facilities for the best 
sort of camp_ cooking. Patrons of the preserve who re- 
main over night for early morning shooting are abso- 
lutely sure of comfort. 
There are great numbers of wild turkeys particularly. 
No section of Virginia is so rich in this magnificent game 
bird as the section embraced by the game preserve of the 
Chamberlin, 
