PINETUM BRITANNICUM. 
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beauty is wholly wanting: “ The varied windings and intricate bendings of the lakes,” says Darby, “ relieve 
the sameness, whilst the rich green of the luxuriant growth of forest trees, the long line of woods melting 
into the distant sky, the multifarious tints of the Willow, Cotton, and other fluviatic trees, rendered 
venerable by the long train of waving moss, amaze the fancy.” (Darby’s “ Louisiana,” p. 69.) 
One not unfrequent incident in the life of the Swamp Cypress is its growing on floating islands 
in the creeks connected with the Mississippi, and by its long roots anchoring them and converting 
them in time into stationary land. “ One of my fellow passengers,” says Sir C. Lyell (“ Second Visit,” 
vol. ii. p. 186), “urged me to visit Lake Solitude, ‘because,’ said he, ‘there is a floating island in it, well 
wooded, on which a friend of mine once landed from a canoe, when, to his surprise, it began to sink 
with his weight. In great alarm he climbed a Cypress tree, which also began immediately to go down 
with him as fast as he ascended. He mounted higher and higher into its boughs, until at length it 
ceased to subside, and looking round he saw in every direction, for a distance' of 50 yards, the whole 
wood in motion.’ ” On inquiry Sir Charles learned the explanation of this marvellous tale. It appears 
“ that there is always a bayou or channel connecting, during floods, each deserted bend or lake with the 
main river, through which large floating logs may pass. These often form rafts and become covered 
with soil supporting shrubs and trees. At first such green islands are blown from one part of the lake 
to another by the winds ; but the deciduous Cypress, if it springs up in such a soil, sends down 
strong roots, many feet or yards long, so as to cast anchor in the muddy bottom, rendering the island 
stationary.” 
It is to such a locality as this that M. Bossu refers when one day he had the misfortune to see 
his boat hemmed in by the branches of a tree that was set under water ; he was benighted in this 
disagreeable situation, and obliged to wait for the break of day. But as this river rises and falls by 
the floods, he then found himself quite in the air in his boat. They were 25 leagues from the mouth of the 
river, but the Mobilian savages that accompanied him comforted him by the hope that the next tide 
would set him afloat again; and accordingly the tide, mounting up the river from Mobile Bay, delivered 
him from his disagreeable situation in a few hours. (Bossu’s “ Travels through Louisiana,” p. 227, 1781.) 
Mr Darby’s description of the great raft, 10 miles in length, which choked the Atchafalaya, gives us a 
more pleasing idea of such an island than we should have expected : “ In the fall season,” says he, “ when 
the waters are low, the surface of the raft is perfectly covered by the most beautiful flora, whose varied dyes, 
and the hum of the honey bee, seen in thousands, compensate to the traveller for the deep silence and 
lonely appearance of Nature at this remote spot. The smooth surface of that part of the river unoccupied 
by the raft, many species of papilionaceous flowers, and the recent growth of Willow and Cotton trees, 
relieves the sameness of the picture. Even the alligator, otherwise the most loathsome and disgusting of 
animated beings, serves to increase the impressive solemnity of the scene.” 
But it must not be supposed that in all these Cyprieres the ground is perpetually a swamp as in som"e': 
in many it is so only for a portion of the year. Darby tells us that “ the lands that are inundated by the 
spring freshes in the low lands of the Atchafalaya remain almost entirely devoid of water on the retiring of 
the floods. N o portion of woodland in America is more completely without water in the fall season than 
this. Miles in succession of those regions that were in former times supposed to be eternally submerged, 
are, in fact, eight months of the year almost totally deprived of water for the ordinary necessities of animal 
existence. This observation will be found circumstantially correct in all the range that divides the delta 
from the prairies, or heights, to 8 or 10 miles distant from either.” At the other season all is changed, and 
one universal inundation covers everything. From the mouth of the Courtableau to the head of the Cow 
Island, the breadth of the overflow between the Atchafalaya, Opelousas, and Allacapas is about 8 miles 
wide. This space is an immense lake for many months ; the currents of the smaller bayous are lost in the 
maze, and only remain distinguishable by the openings of their channels. The many lakes that mingle 
with the outlets of the river, and with each other, render this region most inconceivably intricate. It is with 
the 
