Among our passengers, there were twenty-three negro slaves, men and women; bought in Kentucky by negro speculators, to be transported to Natchez, where the market is high, to be sold. One of them was taken with the cholera, and in twelve hours died. He was put into a rough box, and when we stopped to wood, buried on shore. This was the only case we had, and the only one I ever witnessed. It is a dreadful disease; but has been too often professionally described, for me to attempt it.
These negroes are singular beings. Although one of their number had died; and although they were slaves, and going to be sold to, they knew not whom, or what hardships they might be made to endure, yet they were always merry—talking, laughing, singing, dancing, in one continued round. At every place we stopped, they would run on shore, and while one sung, clapped his hands, and beat time with his foot, the others would foot it merrily on the smooth ground. Knowing their destination, their thoughtless gayety sometimes produced disagreeable sensations. There are some situations, however, where ignorance and thoughtlessness are a blessing. They were not confined at all, but appeared to be kindly treated, and to enjoy every liberty they might, consistent with their situation.
The banks of the Mississippi look high enough at low water; probably thirty feet; presenting a raw edge next the stream, and generally covered with a dense forest of lofty trees; yet at high water, they are generally overflowed, except at the high bluffs. The most prominent of these, are what are called the Iron Banks, Chickasaw Bluffs, Walnut Hills, and the site of the city of Natchez—all these are on the east side of the river. I do not remember of seeing a single high bluff on the west side, below the mouth of the Ohio. There are occasionally small elevations over which the river does not flow; and villages erected on them. But every few miles without regard to overflows, log houses are erected in the wilderness, inhabited by woodcutters; and their only employment seems to be, to supply the steamboats with wood. Although wood is cheap, being generally $1,50 a cord, above the mouth of the Ohio, and from there to Natchez $2,00, yet the demand is so great, and the forest so near, they make quite a lucrative business of it.
The river is very crooked, sometimes going five miles to gain one; has many islands, and some places, full of snags. There are two or three snag boats employed on the river, and when they get them chiefly out, the Missouri, which seems to take upon itself the chief regulation of the stream, brings down at high water a reinforcement equal to the first supply; so that to keep the river clear of snags, is like the labor of Sisyphus, who was doomed to roll a stone up a hill, and the moment he got it near the top, it would roll down again.
The introduction of steamboats on the western waters, has revolutionized the country. They have opened the deep recesses of the West, to the free access of mankind, and let in the light of day upon them. The half-horse and half-alligator race are no longer to be found; but the inhabitants of this part of creation look, and talk, and act, and live—very much like human beings. The refinements, elegancies and luxuries of life are not so generally found here, as in the Atlantic States; but all the necessaries are every where abundant.
In Michigan, Illinois, Missouri, and all along the river Mississippi, I found the inhabitants civil and kind; and in no one instance did I ask for a meal of victuals in vain. It might, sometimes, be a homely one, and once I recollect, it consisted of meat and bread; but those who have such a mawkish sensibility that they cannot relish the simple fare of the forrester, ought never to set a foot on the western world.
The flat boats are still in use on the river. We passed hundreds of them; some loaded with live stock, others with corn, cotton, &c. They have hardly any resemblance of a boat. They are sixty or seventy feet long, ten wide, having corner posts and a square form like a house, and a flat roof. The current floats them down the stream to the destined port, the cargoes and boats are both sold, and the hands take passage on board the steamboats, home.
We stopped at all the villages and towns of any size on the river, to take and leave passengers and freight; but books give such an accurate description of them, as to render any particular notice here unnecessary. Memphis is the most pleasant, Vicksburg the most flourishing, and Natchez the largest—all on the east side of the river.
There are no large towns on the west side of the river below the mouth of the Ohio. As prominent as any, perhaps, is New-Madrid, situated just within the southern border of the State of Missouri. It was once a much larger village than at present. It is memorable for the romantic history of its origin under General Morgan, and for the great earthquakes in 1811 and 1812. Mr. Flint says that these earthquakes were more severe than any known in our part of the continent. The shocks were felt more or less throughout the whole western country; but they were more severe and produced the most disastrous effects in the region of New-Madrid.—The grave yard of the village, with all its sleeping tenants was precipitated into the river—the trees were violently thrown against each other, bent in various directions or prostrated—the earth burst in many places, and earth, sand and water were thrown high into the air—thousands of acres were sunk and many ponds formed—the river became dammed up and flowed backwards—islands sunk in the stream, and boats as they passed shared the same fate—the birds of the air became terrified, descended to the earth and flew into the arms of man to shelter themselves from the commotion of nature—the whole country for a time became inundated, but as it was thinly inhabited few lives only were lost. History does not record an earthquake attended with more terrific circumstances and threatening a more exterminating war with man and nature, than this. The thriving country about the village was made desolate, but now it is slowly regaining its former condition. In this region the country is rich and beautiful, but the many ponds made by the earthquake render it unhealthy. New-Madrid is, however, quite a village, transacts much business and is the most noted landing place for steamboats on the west side of the river below St. Louis.