JOURNAL RESUMED.
Monday, March 16th.—During the last three days the weather has been warm, but not oppressively so: last evening a light shower of rain was followed by a lovely night. I am leading a dissipated life here, and engaged for every day I can yet count upon—must prepare for flight from this Capua, but how? that's the question! since up the Mississippi I won't steam again, that's poz!
Visited a noble packet called the Shakspeare, in which I feel hugely tempted to take passage, although by the route newly opened through Florida there is greater certainty, albeit with a good deal of hard work to calculate upon.
17th.—St. Phaudrig's day. Engaged to dine with the sons of the saint. Rain falling in torrents, no stirring out; by the afternoon a deluge threatens us, the streets are turned to rivers, and our neighbour swamp is become a lake, above which the naked cypress-trees, hung with their sombre drapery of moss, tower like the masts of some goodly navy whose hulls lie sunk beneath. Boats will soon be required, for every gutter is become a branch of mother Mississippi.
About three o'clock P.M. it subsided a little, and we were able to get through in a well-horsed carriage to the French Theatre, in the ball-room of which our rendezvous was appointed, dinner being laid in another of the suite of apartments appropriated to public purposes. We mustered about a hundred strong, and a more creditable set of children no saint ever had to his back. About midnight the party broke up, and, despite the rain, the shamrog had never presided over a gayer table.
18th.—A glorious morning; paid my visits, made adieus; and after, rode out to the lake by the canal and Bayou St. John. But what a change had taken place since my last ride here, just three days back! then all was torpid, decayed, and dead; the forest was voiceless, and the waters oily and stagnant as though never intended for the use of living thing. On this day all nature appears awakened, as if by magic, and vegetation actually seems to proceed before our eyes; in every dyke the water-snakes are gliding about with their graceful crests reared above the surface, and on lake and lagoon bask shoals of mullet, rejoicing in the warm waters of the swamp. The lazy alligator is dragging himself across the path, newly roused from his winter lair. The cardinal, the mocking-bird, and the gaudy red-bird, are all darting to and fro, in pursuit of the various insects that flutter about the air. The very swamp is putting on a face of beauty, and all nature appears to hail the arrival of spring. Never was change so complete, so sudden, and so attractive.
Returning, halted by a camp of Choctaws, consisting of a dozen huts, about which crawled or ran as many children of all ages, looking remarkably healthy and well-formed. In a hut, larger and better made than any other, sat the chief and his squaw, upon whose lap lay numberless strings of blue and white beads, which she was admiring and arranging with as much delight as a London girl would her first suite of pearl.
The chief himself was a stout, honest-faced fellow, and I suppose an active hunter, for the sides of the hut, which was open in front, were hung with various skins, and the earth was closely carpeted with the like trophies: several clean-looking baskets were hanging about the back of the hut; over the fire, in front, was suspended an iron pot, and to attend to this seemed the present business of the chief.
This was a portion of a tribe or nation, once very powerful and numerous in the South; it is now, however, scattered and broken up; many families under their several chiefs have departed for the Western wilderness, many more for the tomb. They begged for money as the natives usually do, but receive with equal indifference the coin or a refusal.
Friday, 20th.—The ship Shakspeare, according to the owners' promise, was to sail this day, but sail she did not. Passed an uncomfortable morning from being kept the best part of it in uncertainty. Almost wish I had proceeded two days ago by the route through Florida. H——s gravely assures me it is all for the best, and J. H——n coolly echoes his philosophy, although both one and the other of the villains are "as hot Jacks" in their mood "as any in all Italy," Day very sultry, or, as a countryman of mine here, calls this sort of muggy heat, "Vile mucilaginous weather."