Preparation for a deer hunt--A sailor, a planter, and an
author--A deer driver--"Stands" for deer--The hunting ground
--The hunt--Ellis's cliff--Silver mine--An hypothesis--
Alluvial formation of the lower valley of the Mississippi--
Geological descriptions of the south-west.
The morning after my arrival at the plantation, which suggested the
subject of my last letter, two gentlemen, with their guns and dogs,
arrived at the house, to proceed from thence, according to a previous
arrangement, on a deer hunt. This noble and attractive game abounds in
the "bottoms" and river hills in this region; though the planters, who
are in general passionately fond of hunting, are fast thinning their
numbers. The branching antlers of a stag, as in the old oaken halls of
England, are found fixed, in some conspicuous station, in almost every
planter's habitation--trophies of his skill, and testimonials of his
attachment to the chase.
Having prepared our hunting apparatus, and assembled the dogs, which,
from their impatient movements, evidently needed no intimation of our
design, we mounted our horses, and, winding through the cotton fields,
entered a forest to the south, and proceeded, in fine spirits, toward
the "drive," four or five miles below, as the hunting station is
technically termed by deer hunters. There were, exclusive of a servant,
four in our party. One of them, my host, formerly an officer in the
navy, having, some years since, left the service, and settled himself
down as a cotton planter, presented in his person the anomalous union,
in Mississippi, of the sailor and farmer: for in this state, which has
little intercourse directly with the sea, sailors are rare birds. Till
recently a ship could not be seen by a Mississippian without going to
New-Orleans, or elsewhere out of the state: but since Natchez became a
port of entry, and ships have ascended here, the citizens who flocked in
from all the country round, to gaze upon them, are a little more _au
fait_ to this branch of nautical knowledge. It would be difficult to say
which predominates in this gentleman, the bluff and frank bearing of the
sailor, or the easy and independent manner of the planter. In the
management of his plantation, the result of his peculiar economy has
shown, that the discipline with which he was familiar in the navy, with
suitable modifications, has not been applied unsuccessfully to the
government of his slaves. What a strange inclination sailors have for
farming! Inquire of any New-England sea-captain the ultimatum of his
wishes, after leaving the sea--for sailors in general follow the sea as
the means of securing them a snug berth on shore--and he will almost
invariably reply--"a farm." Another of our party was a planter, a native
of Mississippi, and the son of a gentleman whose philosophic researches
have greatly contributed to the advancement of science. He was a model
of a southern planter--gentlemanly, companionable, and a keen hunter.
The government of his plantation, which is one of the finest in the
state, is of a parental rather than an imperious character. He rules
rather by kindness than severity, and his slaves obey from the principle
of a desire to please, rather than from fear. And the result of his
discipline has fully overthrown the sweeping assertion, which it is the
fashion to repeat and believe, that "the more kindly slaves are treated
the worse they are." A favourite theory of philanthropists, in relation
to master and slave, is more practically illustrated on the estate of
this gentleman, than the most sanguine of its framers could have
anticipated. As I have, in a former letter, alluded to that branch of
the domestic economy of this plantation, relating to the religious
privileges of the slaves, and shall again have occasion to refer to its
discipline, I will pursue the subject here no farther.
The third individual of our party was a gentleman originally from
New-Jersey; a state which has contributed many valuable citizens to
Mississippi. But he had been too long in the south to preserve his
identity as a Jersey man. The son of a distinguished barrister, he had
been a lawyer himself; but, like all professional men, who have remained
here a short time, he had taken his third degree as a cotton planter. He
is a gentleman of fine taste and a chastened imagination; and besides
some beautiful tales, contributed to the periodicals, he is the author
of that delightful story, the "Fawn's leap," published in the Atlantic
Souvenir of 1830. The literary world will have reason to feel regret, in
which the subject of my remark will, no doubt, be far from sympathising,
that fortune has placed him among her _proteges_. He possesses an
independent property, and resides on an estate called "Woodbourne,"
eight or nine miles from Natchez. With true Mississippi taste, he has
placed his handsome villa in the midst of a forest; but the majestic
beauty of the lofty trees, as surveyed from the gallery, and the solemn
grandeur of the primeval forests which inclose his dwelling on all
sides, struck me, at the moment, as far superior to any display of art
in ornamental grounds, and nearly unhinged my predilection for
artificial scenery. In this charming retirement, and in the quiet
enjoyment of private life, he has laid aside the gown of the author to
assume the capote of the planter, and become an indefatigable devotee to
the lordly pleasures of the chase. Few men, who hunt merely _en
amateur_, and especially, few literary men, can boast that they have
killed twenty-seven deer, and been at the death of fifty-two--yet this
gentleman can do so with truth: and a row of notches, cut in his
hunting-horn, which I found suspended from an antler in the gallery of
the house we had just left, recorded the fact. Besides this gentleman,
there are but few individuals who are known out of this state as
cultivators of literature. Mississippi is yet too young to boast of her
authors, although she is not deficient in men of talent and learning.
But the members of the learned professions are too much involved in
schemes of wealth to have leisure or inclination for the cultivation of
general literature.
Half way through the forest into which we entered on leaving the
plantation, we came to a rude dwelling, inhabited by a ruder old hunter,
who was to officiate as "driver." He accompanied us with his dogs for a
while, and then turned aside into the woods to surround the deer in
their place of resort and drive them toward the river, between which and
them we were to take our "stands," for the purpose of intercepting them,
as they dashed by to the water. For if alarmed while feeding upon the
high grounds back front the Mississippi, they at once bound off to the
shelter of the swamps or bottoms near the river--and the skilful hunter,
whose experience teaches him by what paths they will seek to gain the
lowlands where the hounds cannot follow them, takes his stand with his
rifle behind some tree by which he is tolerably sure the deer will pass,
and as the noble and terrified animal bounds past him, he levels the
deadly rifle with unerring aim, and buries a bullet in his heart.
Emerging from the forest a mile or two above our hunting ground, we came
suddenly upon an amphitheatre of naked hills nearly surrounded by
forests of dark pine. Winding through romantic defiles thickly bordered
with cedars, we gradually ascended to the summit of the highest of this
cluster of treeless hills, when all at once the Mississippi, rolling
onward to the sea, burst upon our sight in all its majesty. There is a
grand and desolate character in those naked cliffs which hang in huge
terraces over the river, to the perpendicular height of three hundred
feet. The view from their summits is one of the most sublime and
extensive in the south-west. To the north and south the broad river
spreads away like a long serpentine lake, its western shore presenting a
plain, clothed even to the horizon with a boundless forest, with a
plantation here and there breaking the uniformity of its outlines, near
the water's edge.
After a farther ride of a mile, over a hilly road through woods
alternately exposing and hiding the river, we arrived at the
"deer-stand,"--a long ridge nearly parallel with the river, and covered
with a very open forest with a low "bottom," between the ridge and the
water, and an extensive "drive," or forest frequented by deer, extending
two miles inland. Our "driver" with the whole pack, had turned off into
the "drive" some time before, and having examined the ground, we took
our "stands" about a hundred yards apart, each behind a large tree
commanding an opening, or avenue, through which the deer were expected
to pass. Several of these "stands," and many more than we could occupy,
were on the ridge, all of which should have been occupied to insure a
successful issue to our sport. A few moments after we had taken our
stands, and while listening for the least token of the "driver's"
presence in the depths of the forest--the distant baying of dogs, in
that peculiar note with which they open when they have roused their
game, fell faintly upon our ears. The chorus of canine voices, however,
soon grew louder and more violent--and as they awoke the echoes of the
forests, and came down upon us like a storm--my heart leaped and the
blood coursed merrily in my veins. All at once the deep voices of the
hounds ceased as though they were at fault; but after a few moments'
pause, a staunch old hunter opened again far to the right, and again the
whole pack were in pursuit in full cry, and the crashing of trees and
underbrush directly in front of us about a quarter of a mile in the
wood, with the increased roar of the pack, warned us to be ready. The
next moment the noise moved away to the right, and all at once, with a
crash and a bound, a noble stag, with his head laid back upon his
shoulders, crossed our line at the remotest stand, and disappeared in
the thick woods along the river. The dogs followed like meteors. Away to
the left another crashing was heard, and a beautiful doe leaped across
the open space on the ridge, and was lost in the thicket. The sounds of
affrighted deer, passing through the forest at a great distance, were
occasionally heard, but these soon died away and we only heard the wild
clamour of the dogs, which the driver, who was close at their heels, in
vain essayed to recall by sounding his horn long and loud, and sending
its hoarse notes into the deepest recesses of the wood.
After a great deal of trouble, by whipping, coaxing, and driving, nearly
all the dogs were again collected, as it was in vain to pursue the deer
to their retreats. Some of the old hunters slowly coming in at the last,
laid themselves down by us panting and half dead with fatigue. By and by
the driver again started into the "drive" with the dogs; but an
engagement for the evening, precluding my participation in a renewal of
the spirit-stirring scene, I reluctantly left my agreeable party who
were out for the day, and proceeded homeward. They returned late at
night with, I believe, a single deer as the reward of their patience and
unwearied spirits, two most important virtues in a thorough-bred deer
hunter. Uncommon nerve and great presence of mind are also indispensable
qualifications. "Once," remarked a hunting gentleman to me, "while
waiting at my stand the approach of a buck, which some time before
seeing him I had heard leaping along in immense bounds through the
thicket--his sudden appearance in an open space about a hundred yards in
front, bearing down directly toward me at fearful speed, so awed and
unnerved me for the moment, that although my rifle was levelled at his
broad breast, I had not the power to pull the trigger, and before I
could recover myself the noble creature passed me like the wind." Yet
this gentleman was a tried hunter, and on other occasions had brought
down deer as they came toward him at full speed, at the distance of from
sixty to a hundred yards.
On my return from the hunting ground, I lingered on the romantic cliff
we had crossed in the morning, delighted at once more beholding scenery
that reminded me of the rude features of my native state. Dismounting
from my horse, which I secured to the only tree upon the cliff, I
descended, after many hair-breadth escapes a ravine nearly two hundred
feet in depth, which conducted me to the water side and near the mouth
of the beautiful St. Catharine, which, after a winding course of more
than eighty miles, empties itself into the Mississippi through an
embouchure ten yards wide, and as accurately defined as the mouth of a
canal. Near this spot is a silver mine lately re-discovered, after the
lapse of a third of a century. Its history, I believe, is this. Some
thirty or forty years ago, a Spaniard who had been a miner in Mexico,
passing down the Mississippi, discovered ore which he supposed to be
silver. He took a quantity of it into his pirogue, and on arriving at a
planter's house on the banks of the river in Louisiana, tested it as
correctly as circumstances would admit, and was satisfied that it was
pure silver. He communicated the discovery to his host, gave him a few
ingots of the metal and took his departure. What became of him is not
known. The host from year to year resolved to visit the spot, but
neglected it, or was prevented by the intrusion of more pressing
employments, till four or five years since. He then communicated the
discovery to a Mexican miner, an American or an Englishman, who stopped
at his house, and to whom, on hearing him speak of mines, he showed the
masses he had received so many years before from the Spaniard. The man
on examining them and ascertaining the metal to be pure silver, became
at once interested in the discovery, obtained the necessary information
to enable him to find the spot, and immediately ascended the river. On
arriving at the cliffs he commenced his search, and after a few days
discovered the vein, in one of the lowest strata of the cliffs. He
found it difficult, however, to engage the neighbouring planters in his
scheme of working it, for what planter would exchange his cotton fields
for a silver mine? Yet they treated him with attention, and seconded his
efforts by lending him slaves. More than a hundred weight of the ore was
obtained, and sent on to Philadelphia to undergo the process of fusion.
It probably is not rich enough for amalgamation, as it contains a
superior bulk of iron pyrites, blende, lead and earthy matter. The
amount of pure silver procured from the ore has not been ascertained,
the result of the process not having yet been made known. I obtained
several pieces, which make a very pretty show in a cabinet, and this is
probably the highest honour to which it will be exalted, at least till
the surface of the earth refuses longer to bear ingots of silver, in the
shape of the snowy cotton boll.
The peculiar features of these cliffs are a series of vast concavities,
or inverted hollow cones, connected with each other by narrow gorges,
whose bottoms are level with the river, and surrounded by perpendicular
and overhanging walls of earth, often detached, like huge pyramids, and
nearly three hundred feet in height. There are five clusters of these
cliffs in this state, all situated on the eastern shore of the
Mississippi, from forty to one hundred miles apart, of which this is the
most important in height and magnitude, as well as in grandeur and
variety of scenery. They are properly the heads or terminations of the
high grounds of the United States--the _antennae_ of the Alleghanies.[8]
The hypothesis that they were promontories in past ages, with the waves
of the Mexican Gulf breaking at their bases, has had the support of many
scientific men. This opinion carries with it great probability, when the
peculiar qualities of the Mississippi are considered in relation to its
"forming effects." These effects are a consequence of the general truth
of the proposition, that every mechanical destruction will be followed
by a mechanical formation; hence the masses separated by the waters of
the Mississippi, will be again deposited on the surface of the land, or
its shores, about its mouth, and on the bottom of the sea. You are aware
that one twelfth of the bulk of this vast volume of water is earth, as
ascertained by its depositing that proportion in the bottom of a glass
filled with the water. During the flood the proportion is greater, and
the earthy particles are as dense as the water can hold in suspension.
The average velocity of the current below the Missouri, is between one
and two miles an hour, and it is calculated that it would require four
months to discharge the column of water embraced between this point and
its delta. Bearing constantly within its flood a mass of earth equal to
one twelfth of its whole bulk, it follows that it must bear toward the
sea, every four years, more than its cubical bulk of solid earth. Now
where is this great column of earth deposited? Has it been rolling
onward for centuries, without any visible effects? This will not be
affirmed, and experience proves the contrary in the hourly mechanical
depositions of the ochreous particles of this river, in its noble
convexities, its extensive bottoms, and the growing capes at its mouth.
But a small portion of the turbid mixture has been deposited in the bed
of the river, particularly in its southern section, as moving water will
not deposit at any great depth.[9]
Now when the general appearance and geological features of the
South-West, including the south part of Mississippi and nearly the whole
of Louisiana, are observed with reference to the preceding statements,
the irresistible conviction of the observer is, that the immense plain
now rich with sugar and cotton fields, a great emporium, numerous
villages and a thousand villas, was formed by the mechanical deposits of
the Mississippi upon the bed of the ocean, precisely as they are now
building up fields into the Mexican Gulf. Do not understand me that the
present fertile surface of this region was the original bed of the
ocean, but that it rose out of it, as the coral islands come up out of
the sea, by the gradual accumulation of deposits. The appearance of
these inland promontories or cliffs, which suggested these remarks, and
the fact that the highlands of the south-west, all terminate along the
southern border of this region, from fifty to one hundred miles from the
sea, leaving a broad alluvial tract between, and presenting a well
defined _inland_ sea-board, go far to strengthen the opinion I have
adopted.
The chain of cliffs along the eastern shore of the Mississippi, have a
parallel chain opposite to them on the other side of the great savana,
skirted by the Mississippi, about forty miles distant. This savana or
valley gradually widens to the south until near the mouth of the river,
where it is increased to one hundred and forty or fifty miles in
breadth. It is this great valley which is of mechanical formation, and
its present site was in all probability covered by the waters of a bay
similar to the Chesapeake, extending many leagues above Natchez to the
nearest approximation of the cliffs on either side, where alone must
have been an original mouth of this great river. Where the spectator, in
looking westward from these bluffs; now beholds an extensive and level
forest, in ages past rolled the waters of the Mexican sea--and where he
now gazes upon a broad and placid river flowing onward to mingle with
the distant ocean, the very waves of that ocean rolled in loud surges,
dashed against the lofty cliffs, and kissed the pebbles at his feet.