Nicholas Berthoud, Esq., proposed to me to accompany him in his
keel-boat to New Orleans. At one o'clock the steam-boat "Columbus"
hauled off from the landing and took our bark in tow. The steamer was
soon ploughing along at full speed, and little else engaged our minds
than the thought of our soon arriving at the emporium of the commerce of
the Mississippi. Towards evening, however, several inquiries were made
respecting particular portions of the luggage, among which ought to have
been one of my portfolios, containing a number of drawings made by me
while gliding down the Ohio and Mississippi from Cincinnati to Natchez,
and of which some were to me peculiarly valuable, being of birds
previously unfigured, and perhaps undescribed. The portfolio was nowhere
to be found, and I recollected that I had brought it under my arm to the
margin of the stream, and there left it to the care of one of my
friend's servants, who, in the hurry of our departure, had neglected to
take it on board. Besides the drawings of birds, there was in this
collection a sketch in black chalk to which I always felt greatly
attached while from home. It is true the features which it represented
were indelibly engraved in my heart; but the portrait of her to whom I
owe so much of the happiness that I have enjoyed was not the less dear
to me. When I thought during the following night of the loss I had
sustained in consequence of my own negligence, imagined the possible
fate of the collection, and saw it in the hands of one of the numerous
boatmen lounging along the shores, who might paste the drawings to the
walls of his cabin, nail them to the steering-oars of his flatboat, or
distribute them among his fellows, I felt little less vexed than I did
some years before when the rats, as you know, devoured a much larger
collection.
It was useless to fret myself, and so I began to devise a scheme for
recovering the drawings. I wrote to Mr. Garnier and my venerable friend
Charles Carre. Mr. Berthoud also wrote to a mercantile acquaintance. The
letters were forwarded to Natchez from the first landing-place at which
we stopped, and in the course of time we reached the great eddy running
by the levee, or artificial embankment, at New Orleans. But before I
present you with the answers to the letters sent to our acquaintances at
Natchez, allow me to offer a statement of our adventures upon the
Mississippi.
After leaving the eddy at Natchez, we passed a long file of exquisitely
beautiful bluffs. At the end of twenty hours we reached Bayou Sara,
where we found two brigs at anchor, several steamers, and a number of
flatboats, the place being of considerable mercantile importance. Here
the "Columbus" left us to shift for ourselves, her commander being
anxious to get to Baton Rouge by a certain hour, in order to secure a
good cargo of cotton. We now proceeded along the great stream, sometimes
floating and sometimes rowing. The shores gradually became lower and
flatter, orange-trees began to make their appearance around the
dwellings of the wealthy planters, and the verdure along the banks
assumed a brighter tint. The thermometer stood at 68 deg. in the shade at
noon; Butterflies fluttered among the flowers, of which many were in
full blow; and we expected to have seen Alligators half awake floating
on the numberless logs that accompanied us in our slow progress. The
eddies were covered with Ducks of various kinds, more especially with
the beautiful species that breeds by preference on the great sycamores
that every now and then present themselves along our southern waters.
Baton Rouge is a very handsome place, but at present I have no time to
describe it. Levees now began to stretch along the river, and wherever
there was a sharp point on the shore, negroes were there amusing
themselves by raising shrimps, and now and then a catfish, with
scooping-nets.
The river increased in breadth and depth, and the sawyers and planters,
logs so called, diminished in number the nearer we drew towards the
famed city. At every bend we found the plantations increased, and now
the whole country on both sides became so level and destitute of trees
along the water's edge that we could see over the points before us, and
observe the great stream stretching along for miles. Within the levees
the land is much lower than the surface of the river when the water is
high; but at this time we could see over the levee from the deck of our
boat only the upper windows of the planters' houses, or the tops of the
trees about them, and the melancholy-looking cypresses covered with
Spanish moss forming the background. Persons rode along the levees at
full speed; Pelicans, Gulls, Vultures, and Carrion Crows sailed over the
stream, and at times there came from the shore a breeze laden with the
delicious perfume of the orange-trees, which were covered with blossoms
and golden fruits.
Having passed Bayou Lafourche, our boat was brought to on account of the
wind, which blew with violence. We landed, and presently made our way to
the swamps, where we shot a number of those beautiful birds called
Boat-tailed Grakles. The Mocking-birds on the fence stakes saluted us
with so much courtesy and with such delightful strains that we could not
think of injuring them; but we thought it no harm to shoot a whole
covey of Partridges. In the swamps we met with warblers of various
kinds, lively and beautiful, waiting in these their winter retreats for
the moment when Boreas should retire to his icy home, and the gentle
gales of the South should waft them toward their breeding-places in the
North. Thousands of Swallows flew about us, the Cat-birds mewed in
answer to their chatterings, the Cardinal Grosbeak elevated his glowing
crest as he stood perched on the magnolia branch, the soft notes of the
Doves echoed among the woods, nature smiled upon us, and we were happy.
On the fourth of January we stopped at Bonnet Carre, where I entered a
house to ask some questions about birds. I was received by a venerable
French gentleman, whom I found in charge of about a dozen children of
both sexes, and who was delighted to hear that I was a student of
nature. He was well acquainted with my old friend Charles Carre, and
must, I thought, be a good man, for he said he never suffered any of his
pupils to rob a bird of her eggs or young, although, said he with a
smile, "they are welcome to peep at them and love them." The boys at
once surrounded me, and from them I received satisfactory answers to
most of my queries respecting birds.
The 6th of January was so cold that the thermometer fell to 30 deg., and we
had seen ice on the running-boards of our keel-boat. This was quite
unlooked for, and we felt uncomfortable; but before the middle of the
day, all nature was again in full play. Several beautiful steamers
passed us. The vegetation seemed not to have suffered from the frost;
green peas, artichokes, and other vegetables were in prime condition.
This reminds me that on one of my late journeys I ate green peas in
December in the Floridas, and had them once a week at least in my course
over the whole of the Union, until I found myself and my family feeding
on the same vegetable more than a hundred miles to the north of the St.
John's River in New Brunswick.
Early on the 7th, thousands of tall spars, called masts by the mariners,
came in sight; and as we drew nearer, we saw the port filled with ships
of many nations, each bearing the flag of its country. At length we
reached the levee, and found ourselves once more at New Orleans. In a
short time my companions dispersed, and I commenced a search for
something that might tend to compensate me for the loss of my drawings.
On the 16th of March following, I had the gratification of receiving a
letter from Mr. A. P. Bodley, of Natchez, informing me that my portfolio
had been found and deposited at the office of the "Mississippi
Republican," whence an order from me would liberate it. Through the
kindness of Mr. Garnier, I received it on the 5th of April. So very
generous had been the finder of it, that when I carefully examined the
drawings in succession, I found them all present and uninjured, save
one, which had probably been kept by way of commission.
THE ORIGINAL PAINTER
As I was lounging one fair and very warm morning on the levee at New
Orleans, I chanced to observe a gentleman whose dress and other
accompaniments greatly attracted my attention. I wheeled about, and
followed him for a short space, when, judging by everything about him
that he was a true original, I accosted him.
But here, kind reader, let me give you some idea of his exterior. His
head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of which might cope with those
worn by the fair sex in 1830; his neck was exposed to the weather; the
broad frill of a shirt, then fashionable, flapped about his breast,
whilst an extraordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over the top of
his coat. The latter was of a light green color, harmonizing well with a
pair of flowing yellow nankeen trousers, and a pink waistcoat, from the
bosom of which, amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the
magnolia, protruded part of a young Alligator, which seemed more anxious
to glide through the muddy waters of some retired swamp than to spend
its life swinging to and fro among folds of the finest lawn. The
gentleman held in one hand a cage full of richly-plumed Nonpareils,
whilst in the other he sported a silk umbrella, on which I could plainly
read, "Stolen from I," these words being painted in large white
characters. He walked as if conscious of his own importance--that is,
with a good deal of pomposity, singing, "My love is but a lassie yet,"
and that with such thorough imitation of the Scotch emphasis that had
not his physiognomy brought to my mind a denial of his being from
"within a mile of Edinburgh," I should have put him down in my journal
for a true Scot. But no: his tournure, nay, the very shape of his
visage, pronounced him an American from the farthest parts of our
eastern Atlantic shores.
All this raised my curiosity to such a height that I accosted him with,
"Pray, sir, will you allow me to examine the birds you have in that
cage?" The gentleman stopped, straightened his body, almost closed his
left eye, then spread his legs apart, and, with a look altogether
quizzical, answered, "Birds, sir; did you say birds?" I nodded, and he
continued, "What the devil do you know about birds, sir?"
Reader, this answer brought a blush into my face. I felt as if caught in
a trap; for I was struck by the force of the gentleman's
question--which, by the way, was not much in discordance with a not
unusual mode of granting an answer in the United States. Sure enough,
thought I, little or perhaps nothing do I know of the nature of those
beautiful denizens of the air; but the next moment vanity gave me a
pinch, and urged me to conceive that I knew at least as much about birds
as the august personage in my presence. "Sir," replied I, "I am a
student of Nature, and admire her works, from the noblest figure of man
to the crawling reptile which you have in your bosom."--"Ah!" replied
he, "a--a--a naturalist, I presume!"--"Just so, my good sir," was my
answer. The gentleman gave me the cage; and I observed, from the corner
of one of my eyes, that his were cunningly inspecting my face. I
examined the pretty Finches as long as I wished, returned the cage, made
a low bow, and was about to proceed on my walk, when this odd sort of
being asked me a question quite accordant with my desire of knowing more
of him: "Will you come with me, sir? If you will, you shall see some
more curious birds, some of which are from different parts of the world.
I keep quite a collection." I assured him I should feel gratified, and
accompanied him to his lodgings.
We entered a long room, where, to my surprise, the first objects that
attracted my attention were a large easel with a full-length unfinished
portrait upon it, a table with palettes and pencils, and a number of
pictures of various sizes placed along the walls. Several cages
containing birds were hung near the windows, and two young gentlemen
were busily engaged in copying some finished portraits. I was delighted
with all I saw. Each picture spoke for itself: the drawing, the
coloring, the handling, the composition, and the keeping--all proved,
that, whoever was the artist, he certainly was possessed of superior
talents.
I did not know if my companion was the painter of the picture, but, as
we say in America, I strongly guessed, and, without waiting any longer,
paid him the compliments which I thought he fairly deserved. "Ay," said
he, "the world is pleased with my work. I wish I were so too; but time
and industry are required, as well as talents, to make a good artist. If
you will examine the birds, I'll to my labor." So saying, the artist
took up his palette, and was searching for a rest-stick; but not finding
the one with which he usually supported his hand, he drew the rod of a
gun, and was about to sit, when he suddenly threw down his implements on
the table, and, taking the gun, walked to me and asked if "I had ever
seen a percussion-lock." I had not, for that improvement was not yet in
vogue. He not only explained the superiority of the lock in question,
but undertook to prove that it was capable of acting effectually under
water. The bell was rung, a flat basin of water was produced, the gun
was charged with powder, and the lock fairly immersed. The report
terrified the birds, causing them to beat against the gilded walls of
their prisons. I remarked this to the artist. He replied, "The devil
take the birds!--more of them in the market; why, sir, I wish to show
you that I am a marksman as well as a painter." The easel was cleared of
the large picture, rolled to the further end of the room, and placed
against the wall. The gun was loaded in a trice, and the painter,
counting ten steps from the easel, and taking aim at the supporting-pin
on the left, fired. The bullet struck the head of the wooden pin fairly,
and sent the splinters in all directions. "A bad shot, sir," said this
extraordinary person. "The ball ought to have driven the pin farther
into the hole, but it struck on one side; I'll try at the hole itself."
After reloading his piece, the artist took aim again, and fired. The
bullet this time had accomplished its object, for it had passed through
the aperture and hit the wall behind. "Mr. ----, ring the bell and close
the windows," said the painter, and, turning to me, continued, "Sir, I
will show you the _ne plus ultra_ of shooting." I was quite amazed, and
yet so delighted that I bowed my assent. A servant having appeared, a
lighted candle was ordered. When it arrived, the artist placed it in a
proper position, and retiring some yards, put out the light with a
bullet, in the manner which I have elsewhere in this volume described.
When light was restored, I observed the uneasiness of the poor little
Alligator, as it strove to effect its escape from the artist's
waistcoat. I mentioned this to him. "True, true," he replied. "I had
quite forgot the reptile; he shall have a dram;" and unbuttoning his
vest, unclasped a small chain, and placed the Alligator in the basin of
water on the table.
Perfectly satisfied with the acquaintance which I had formed with this
renowned artist, I wished to withdraw, fearing I might inconvenience him
by my presence. But my time was not yet come. He bade me sit down, and
paying no more attention to the young pupils in the room than if they
had been a couple of cabbages, said, "If you have leisure and will stay
awhile, I will show you how I paint, and will relate to you an incident
of my life which will prove to you how sadly situated an artist is at
times." In full expectation that more eccentricities were to be
witnessed, or that the story would prove a valuable one, even to a
naturalist, who is seldom a painter, I seated myself at his side, and
observed with interest how adroitly he transferred the colors from his
glistening palette to the canvas before him. I was about to compliment
him on his facility of touch, when he spoke as follows:--
"This is, sir, or, I ought to say rather, this will be the portrait of
one of our best navy officers--a man as brave as Caesar, and as good a
sailor as ever walked the deck of a seventy-four. Do you paint, sir?" I
replied, "Not yet."--"Not yet! what do you mean?"--"I mean what I say: I
intend to paint as soon as I can draw better than I do at
present."--"Good," said he; "you are quite right. To draw is the first
object; but, sir, if you should ever paint, and paint portraits, you
will often meet with difficulties. For instance, the brave Commodore of
whom this is the portrait, although an excellent man at everything
else, is the worst sitter I ever saw; and the incident I promised to
relate to you, as one curious enough, is connected with his bad mode of
sitting. Sir, I forgot to ask if you would take any refreshment--a glass
of wine, or--" I assured him I needed nothing more than his agreeable
company, and he proceeded. "Well, sir, the first morning that the
Commodore came to sit, he was in full uniform, and with his sword at his
side. After a few moments of conversation, and when all was ready on my
part, I bade him ascend this _throne_, place himself in the attitude
which I contemplated, and assume an air becoming an officer of the navy.
He mounted, placed himself as I had desired, but merely looked at me as
if I had been a block of stone. I waited a few minutes, when, observing
no change on his placid countenance, I ran the chalk over the canvas to
form a rough outline. This done, I looked up to his face again, and
opened a conversation which I thought would warm his warlike nature; but
in vain. I waited and waited, talked and talked, until, my
patience--sir, you must know I am not overburdened with phlegm--being
almost run out, I rose, threw my palette and brushes on the floor,
stamped, walking to and fro about the room, and vociferated such
calumnies against our navy that I startled the good Commodore. He still
looked at me with a placid countenance, and, as he has told me since,
thought I had lost my senses. But I observed him all the while, and,
fully as determined to carry my point as he would be to carry off an
enemy's ship, I gave my oaths additional emphasis, addressed him as a
representative of the navy, and, steering somewhat clear of personal
insult, played off my batteries against the craft. The Commodore walked
up to me, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and told me, in a
resolute manner, that if I intended to insult the navy, he would
instantly cut off my ears. His features exhibited all the spirit and
animation of his noble nature, and as I had now succeeded in rousing
the lion, I judged it time to retreat. So, changing my tone, I begged
his pardon, and told him he now looked precisely as I wished to
represent him. He laughed, and, returning to his seat, assumed a bold
countenance. And now, sir, see the picture!"
At some future period I may present you with other instances of the odd
ways in which this admired artist gave animation to his sitters. For the
present, kind reader, we shall leave him finishing the Commodore, while
we return to our proper studies.
THE COUGAR
There is an extensive swamp in the section of the State of Mississippi
which lies partly in the Choctaw territory. It commences at the borders
of the Mississippi, at no great distance from a Chickasaw village
situated near the mouth of a creek known by the name of Vanconnah, and
partly inundated by the swellings of several large bayous, the principal
of which, crossing the swamp in its whole extent, discharges its waters
not far from the mouth of the Yazoo River. This famous bayou is called
False River. The swamp of which I am speaking follows the windings of
the Yazoo, until the latter branches off to the northeast, and at this
point forms the stream named Cold Water River, below which the Yazoo
receives the draining of another bayou inclining towards the northwest
and intersecting that known by the name of False River at a short
distance from the place where the latter receives the waters of the
Mississippi. This tedious account of the situation of the swamp is given
with the view of pointing it out to all students of nature who may
happen to go that way, and whom I would earnestly urge to visit its
interior, as it abounds in rare and interesting productions,--birds,
quadrupeds, and reptiles, as well as molluscous animals, many of which,
I am persuaded, have never been described.
In the course of one of my rambles, I chanced to meet with a squatter's
cabin on the banks of the Cold Water River. In the owner of this hut,
like most of those adventurous settlers in the uncultivated tracts of
our frontier districts, I found a person well versed in the chase, and
acquainted with the habits of some of the larger species of quadrupeds
and birds. As he who is desirous of instruction ought not to disdain
listening to any one who has knowledge to communicate, however humble
may be his lot, or however limited his talents, I entered the squatter's
cabin, and immediately opened a conversation with him respecting the
situation of the swamp, and its natural productions. He told me he
thought it the very place I ought to visit, spoke of the game which it
contained, and pointed to some Bear and Deer skins, adding that the
individuals to which they had belonged formed but a small portion of the
number of those animals which he had shot within it. My heart swelled
with delight, and on asking if he would accompany me through the great
morass, and allow me to become an inmate of his humble but hospitable
mansion, I was gratified to find that he cordially assented to all my
proposals. So I immediately unstrapped my drawing materials, laid up my
gun, and sat down to partake of the homely but wholesome fare intended
for the supper of the squatter, his wife, and his two sons.
The quietness of the evening seemed in perfect accordance with the
gentle demeanor of the family. The wife and children, I more than once
thought, seemed to look upon me as a strange sort of person, going
about, as I told them I was, in search of birds and plants; and were I
here to relate the many questions which they put to me in return for
those I addressed to them, the catalogue would occupy several pages.
The husband, a native of Connecticut, had heard of the existence of such
men as myself, both in our own country and abroad, and seemed greatly
pleased to have me under his roof. Supper over, I asked my kind host
what had induced him to remove to this wild and solitary spot. "The
people are growing too numerous now to thrive in New England," was his
answer. I thought of the state of some parts of Europe, and calculating
the denseness of their population compared with that of New England,
exclaimed to myself, "How much more difficult must it be for men to
thrive in those populous countries!" The conversation then changed, and
the squatter, his sons and myself, spoke of hunting and fishing until at
length, tired, we laid ourselves down on pallets of Bear skins, and
reposed in peace on the floor of the only apartment of which the hut
consisted.
Day dawned, and the squatter's call to his hogs, which, being almost in
a wild state, were suffered to seek the greater portion of their food in
the woods, awakened me. Being ready dressed I was not long in joining
him. The hogs and their young came grunting at the well known call of
their owner, who threw them a few ears of corn, and counted them, but
told me that for some weeks their number had been greatly diminished by
the ravages committed upon them by a large _Panther_, by which name the
Cougar is designated in America, and that the ravenous animal did not
content himself with the flesh of his pigs, but now and then carried off
one of his calves, notwithstanding the many attempts he had made to
shoot it. The _Painter_, as he sometimes called it, had on several
occasions robbed him of a dead Deer; and to these exploits the squatter
added several remarkable feats of audacity which it had performed, to
give me an idea of the formidable character of the beast. Delighted by
his description, I offered to assist him in destroying the enemy, at
which he was highly pleased, but assured me that unless some of his
neighbors should join us with their dogs and his own, the attempt would
prove fruitless. Soon after, mounting a horse, he went off to his
neighbors several of whom lived at a distance of some miles, and
appointed a day of meeting.