On the western side of the Mississippi, are the Bayous Lafourche and Plaquemine, outlets, or arms of the Great River, and subject, of course, to all its fluctuations. The bottoms bordering on these bayous are of the same luxuriant soil, as those on the parent stream, and are guarded from inundation in the same manner, by levees. In this region, the sugar cane is exceedingly productive. It is estimated that, within a compass of seven miles from Thibadeauxville, in the vicinity of the Bayous Black and Terre Bonne, about one tenth of the sugar crop of Louisiana is produced.
A considerable part of Attakapas is also very productive, as well as portions of Opelousas. The latter, however, is better adapted to grazing. The Teche, which meanders through the former, and the eastern part of the latter, of these two parishes, never overflows its banks. The land rises from the river, in a regularly inclined plane towards the woods, affording free courses for the streams, which discharge themselves into the bayou. The soil, therefore, cannot be called alluvial, though in the most essential quality of productiveness, it is scarcely inferior to the best of them. It is a lovely region, the most beautiful, perhaps, in the whole Union, for agricultural purposes. But it has one great drawback, especially for the cultivation of sugar; there is a deficiency of ordinary fire-wood; though the live-oak abounds there to such an extent, that Judge Porter once remarked in Congress, that "there was enough of it in Attakapas, to supply the navies of the whole world with ship timber."
The lands on the Atchafalaya are of an excellent quality, and would afford a desirable opening for enterprising cultivators, if they were not liable to frequent inundations, an evil which will doubtless be remedied, as the population and wealth of that section advances. Those on the Courtableau, which runs through Opelousas, are equal in point of fertility, to any in that parish. From thence, proceeding northward, by Bayou Bœuf, we find, on that bayou, a soil which is regarded by many as the best in the State for the cultivation of cotton. There is also land of an excellent quality on Bayou Rouge, though it is, as yet, for the most part, in the state of nature. The banks of the Bayou Robert, still further north, are of extraordinary fertility, the cane brake, a sure evidence of a very rich soil, flourishing with astonishing luxuriance. Bayou Rapid, which gives its name to the parish through which it runs, intersects one of the most beautiful tracts in the state, which is laid out, on both sides of the bayou, through the whole length of its course, into the finest cotton plantations.
The bottoms of the Red River are well known for their fertility. Those which lie about its lower courses are justly esteemed the paradise of cotton planters. The soil is of a darkish red color, occasioned by the presence of the red oxide of iron. It is thought to derive its character of luxuriant productiveness from a portion of salt intimately blended with its constituents, which, from its tendency to effloresce in a warm sun, renders the compound peculiarly friable. This soil is deep, and has been accumulating for unknown ages, from the spoils of the Mexican mountains, (a species of natural annexation which the laws of nations have no power to regulate,) and the vast prairies which are washed by its upper courses.
The rich valley of the Red River is of a magnificent breadth, and for the most part, where it has not been cleared for cultivation, covered with a dense growth of forest trees. All the bayous of this river, which are very numerous, branching off in every direction, and intersecting every part of this luxuriant valley, partake of the fertilizing character of the main stream.[1]
There are few things among the works of nature, more remarkable than the floating prairies, which are found upon the lakes bordering upon the coast of the Gulf. They seem to have been formed by the natural aggregation of such vegetable matter as lay suspended upon the surface of the water, supplied with a light substratum of soil, partly by its own decay and disintegration, and partly by attracting around its roots and fibres the alluvial treasures with which all these waters abound. From this, various kinds of grass and weeds have sprung up, the roots of which have become firmly interwoven with the subjacent mass, matting it completely together, and giving it all the appearance of a substantial island. It is often several inches in thickness, and so nearly resembles terra firma, that not only the sagacity of man, but even animal instinct has been deceived by it. These floating prairies are sometimes of great extent, and are by no means confined to waters comparatively shoal. They literally cover the deeps in some cases, and a great deal of precaution is necessary to avoid them, for, stable as they look at a distance, they are as unsubstantial as shadows, so that boats may oftentimes be forced through them. They are less trustworthy than quicksands, for the unlucky wight who should adventure himself upon their deceitful appearances, would find himself entangled in a net of interminable extent, from which it would be impossible to extricate himself.
It may not be deemed presumption, perhaps, to suggest, that the great Raft on the Red River may be a formation upon the same principle, though upon a more enlarged scale. The stream being sluggish, and the alluvial deposit exceedingly heavy and rich, the accumulation of a productive soil, and the consequent growth and entanglement of roots would be very rapid; and a foundation would ultimately be formed sufficiently stable and permanent, to be travelled with safety. Floating trees from the upper courses, arrested by this obstruction, would imbed themselves in the mass, until, by continual accretions, it should become what it now is, an impassable and almost irremovable barrier to navigation.
The Delta of the Mississippi is a region of extensive marshes. For many leagues, the lakes, inlets and sounds, which dissect and diversify that amphibious wilderness, are connected by an inextricable tissue of communications and passes, accessible only by small vessels and bay craft, and impossible to be navigated except by the most experienced pilots. It is a perfect labyrinth of waters, more difficult to unravel than those of Crete and Lemnos. The shore is indented by numberless small bays, or coves, few of which have sufficient depth of water, to afford a shelter for vessels. Berwick and Barritaria Bays are the only ones of any considerable magnitude.
The prairies which cover so large a portion of this State, are, for the most part, connected together, as if the waters from which they were originally deposited had been an immense chain of lakes, all fed from the same great source. And this was undoubtedly the fact. They were all supplied from the Mississippi, and their wonderful fertility is derived from the alluvial riches of those interminable regions, which are washed by the father of rivers and his countless tributaries. Those included under the general name of Attakapas, are the first which occur on the west of the Mississippi. It is an almost immeasurable plain of grass, extending from the Atchafalaya on the north, to the Gulf of Mexico, on the south. Its contents are stated to be about five thousand square miles. Being open to the Gulf, it is generally fanned by its refreshing breezes. To the traveller in those regions, who may have been toiling on his weary way through tangle, and swamp, and forest, there is something indescribably agreeable in this smooth and boundless sea of unrivalled fertility, whose dim outline mingles with the blue of the far off Gulf—the whole vast plain covered with tall grass, waving and rippling in the breeze, sprinkled with neat white houses, the abodes of wealth, comfort and hospitality, and dotted with innumerable cattle and horses grazing in the fields, or reposing here and there under the shade of the wooded points. The sudden transition from the rank cane, the annoying nettles, the stifling air, and the pestilent mosquitoes, to this open expanse, and the cool salubrious breath of the ocean, is as delightful and reviving as an oasis in the desert.
In the midst of this immense prairie, is situated the parish of Attakapas. This word, in the language of the Aborigines, from whom it is derived, signified "man-eater," the region having been occupied by Cannibals. Strange indeed, that the inhabitants of a climate so bland, and a soil so fertile, should possess the taste, or feel the necessity for so revolting and unnatural a species of barbarism.