Editor's note:

The following excerpts are taken from the book Letters from Alabama,

an epistolary account Philip Henry Gosse, a naturalist, wrote during a year

in Alabama while he taught school and studied the native fauna and flora.

Gosse follows in the footsteps of John Bartram, who, in his Travels, writes

with wonder about the riches of the New World, often breaking into prayer

and as easily focused on himself as on the landscape.

We see in Gosse's writing a similar ease, a willingness to shift his attentions

from the specimens he hoped to gather to those specimens he could not collect,

the early Alabamians in whose company he found himself.

The book Letters from Alabama is available in the Library of Alabama Classics Series

published by the University of Alabama Press.

LETTER II.

 

 

     There is no solitude like that which is felt by him who for the first time walks the streets of a busy city in which he is a total stranger. Crowds of human beings pass by, each possessed of the thoughts, feelings, and affections of a man; yet not one stretches out the hand of friendship, not one bestows a nod of acquaintance, not one gives so much as a glance of recognition. In the gloom of the forest, in the silence of the wilderness, far from human abodes, my heart leaps for joy; there I am not lonely, though alone; there hundreds of objects meet my gaze, with which I have long been accustomed to hold sweet communion.

 

“Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

     Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears;

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

     Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.”

 

     Such thoughts as these obtruded on my mind as, having landed from the vessel just as day was departing, a time that predisposes to depression, I walked unheeded and unknown through the city of Mobile. These thoughts, however, soon passed off, and gave way to curiosity and surprise. I was struck by an unusual character, a certain something of a foreign appearance, which was forcibly evident, but which I cannot describe, in the streets a little removed from the more commercial part of the city. Perhaps it was owing to the absence of foot-pavements, and to the occurrence of large patches of what looked at a little distance like grass, but consisted only of short weeds very thinly scattered; to the strange trees and plants which shaded the sides, such as the pride of China (Melia azedarach), the honey locust (Gleditschia triacanthos), the fan-palm (Chamoerops palmetto), Adam’s needle (Yucca aloifolia), &c.; to the almost universality of open verandas, beneath which the inhabitants were sitting to enjoy the cool breath of evening; or to all these combined, and other causes which escaped my detection.

     I was surprised to observe the dead horses and cows suffered to lie exposed on the shore, scarce out of the town, a neglect which I should suppose by no means likely in this hot climate to contribute to the health of the inhabitants. The exhalations arising from the extensive muddy flats, which are left uncovered at low water, must likewise be very prejudicial, and probably materially tend to give this town the unhealthy reputation which it possesses. Placed at the mouth of two large rivers, which may be said to drain the whole of the State, and protected by a deep and capacious bay, Mobile may be considered as well situated for commerce; and a flourishing trade exists in cotton, the staple of the State, with Liverpool, London, Havre, and the ports of the northern United States. The shallowness of the water in the bay is, however, a drawback, as vessels above a hundred tons burden cannot come to the town, but are compelled to lie at fifteen or twenty miles’ distance, causing great delay in unloading and shipping goods.

     Having left all nature still unemerged from the torpor of winter when I departed, and having since spent a tedious period of many weeks on the ocean without any intermission, except that of the brief but pleasant hour spent on Cayo Boca, you will easily understand the enthusiasm with which I embraced the first opening of sunlight the next morning, to hasten into the dense forests which closely environ the town. Everything here was new, scarcely a tree occurred that I was familiar with, and few I can now recollect sufficiently to identify. The magnolias, superb and magnificent as they are, were conspicuous and numerous; the large, glossy, laurel-like leaves gave them a rich and noble appearance, though I saw none of them adorned with the beautiful blossoms for which they are so famous. It may be that I was too late, that the season of flowering was over; for, as I passed up the river, many trees on the banks were richly ornamented with blossoms, especially as I approached the hill country. Large and gorgeously coloured insects hovered over the flowers, or fluttered from bush to bush, in such profusion that I was almost bewildered. I was but scantily furnished with collecting-boxes, and one was no sooner occupied than it had to be emptied, and the former captive rejected for a more tempting prize, until at length I resolved to cease capturing, and content myself with admiring. A handsome locust was numerous in the larva state, of a glossy black, striped longitudinally with showy scarlet. I took a pretty little skipper butterfly which is not figured in Boisduval’s splendid “Iconographie;” it is much like Hesperia malvœ, but still more resembles H. Proto of Godart, of H. Orcus of Cramer. I observed, in the little pools of dark water by the road-sides and in the woods, numbers of creatures that would dart from the edge into deep water the instant a footstep approached, so quickly that it was almost impossible to catch a glance at their form. I at length discovered that they were cray-fish (Astacus Americanus), closely resembling those of our own rivers.

     In the waste places around the city, and especially near the shore, the prickly pear (Opuntia) grows in large impenetrable thickets. Every one knows the flat, oval, fleshy joints of which this plant is composed, each growing out of the edge of another, and each studded with tufts of bristling spines. Flowers and fruits were both numerous; the latter unripe, indeed, yet sufficiently attractive, from their plump contour and purple hue, to tempt me to essay the taste of one. In a moment I regretted my rashness, for my tongue and lips were filled with fine barbed spines, which continually worked farther in, and gave great pain. One by one, however, I contrived to tear them out, or break them off, but not till I had thoroughly learned the need of caution in eating prickly pears.

     As I had no acquaintance in Mobile, I took the first opportunity of proceeding to the mountainous part of the State, to which I had introductions. The same day, therefore, I took passage on board one of the fine high-pressure steamers that throng the Mobile wharves, to go up the Alabama river.

     It was evening when we left the city; from which the course of the river winds for many miles through a flat marshy country, and is bordered on each side by a broad belt of reeds, which grow thick and strong out of the very water. By day I suppose this appearance would be unpleasing; but the gloom of night, limiting the view to a few yards around us, and making visible the beautiful fireflies which danced and crawled about the reeds in myriads, or made interrupted lines of radiance as they flew like shooting stars through the air, made the scene one of romantic and high gratification. By and by, we come into more uneven ground, where the high banks reflect a black shadow on the smooth water, seeming to contract the broad river to a brook; the calm, mirror-like surface, unruffled by a zephyr, gives back the light of each individual star; and now and then, as we round some point, a bright red glare, with its watery reflection, suddenly and unexpectedly bursts upon our gaze from the beacon-fire of some wood-yard, casting a broad illumination on the opposite bank, which has a startling and poetic effect; while the hoarse and hollow booming of the steam, occurring at regularly measured intervals, seems not out of keeping with the general solemnity of the scene. The busy hum and bustle of the vessel gradually subsided into quietness; but long after all the rest of the passengers had retired to rest, to whom I suppose the scene presented not the charm of novelty, I continued on deck with unabated delight; and when I retired, it was not to sleep, for I could not avoid sitting up in bed, and gazing, through the open window of my berth, on the placid beauty of the night.

     At early day, too, I found it delightful to stand alone on the upper deck, and watch the opening morning. It was yet dawn; stillness and quiet prevailed, the decks were yet untrodden, the noise of the day was yet hushed, the bats and whip-poor-wills were still sweeping over the stream in tortuous flight, both engaged in the same vocation, the pursuit of crepuscular insects. The breadth of wing and rushing flight of the latter deceived me for some time into the notion that they were large swallows; the bat, though of swift wing, had no chance whatever in a race with them. as the eastern sky began to glow and brighten into fiery red, they gradually disappeared, the bats being the first to retire. Soon the sun, with dilated face, peeped over the horizon in cloudless majesty, and flushed with golden light the hills and cultivated fields that surrounded us; but as yet the air was delightfully cool and refreshing, and perfumed with the breath of flowers, which after a while was dissipated by the increasing heat. The river was smooth, and shone like silver, until its surface was broken and swollen by the rushing steamer; before us we had a polished surface, reflecting a cloudless sky; behind us we left a rolling sea, enshrouded beneath a long sable cloud of dense smoke.

     Nor was the day without pleasure, though we passed no towns, and very few settlements, at least during the daylight: occasionally we stopped to replenish out stock of wood, which is cut, split, and corded, at certain stations by negroes residing at them; these stations are called wood-yards. The moment the steamer stops, the crew begins to bring the wood on board on their shoulders, and it is astonishing to observe how quickly the great piles are transferred, and we are again on our roaring and rushing course. Here and there we open on some large cleared estate, and the fields planted with corn or cotton, as yet scarcely appearing above ground, and perhaps a single negro-hut; but the planters’ houses and the general buildings of the farm do not appear, they being situated at a considerable distance from the margin. Every spring the river overflows its banks, and inundates the surrounding country to a wide extent. Of this I saw sufficient traces, though the water had now returned to its wonted channel: high up, on the trees which overhung the water, the branches were encumbered with rubbish that had been left there by the spring flood, and which showed the great extent to which the river had been swollen. In one tree was the carcase of a cow that had probably been drowned in the freshets, and having become entangled among the forked boughs, had been depositied in the odd situation in which I saw it. In general the banks are clothed with tall forests to the water’s edge; trees arrayed in all shades of green, of various height and form, some covered with glorious flowers, suddenly appeared and as swiftly vanished, a constantly shifting panorama. Many trees had their tangled roots all exposed by the washing away of the soil from beneath them, others were prostrate in the stream from the operation of the same cause; sometimes a pretty wooded island appeared, cleaving the stream with its shore of bright yellow sand; now the river expanded into a silvery lake, the narrowed to a gorge, between beetling precipices of limestone rising perpendicularly to the height of several hundred feet.

     I was surprised to observe so exceedingly little of animal life: scarcely a single insect (except the fireflies) was to be seen during the whole voyage up, and very few birds. The depth of the forest is not favourable to the development of animal existence; the edges of the woods, or open plains, where light is abundant, where flowers loom, and herbs seed, are the resorts of birds and insects; and on this account, these charming visitants are found to swarm when man has made a clearing, even in the spot where before scarcely an individual could have been found. A few I saw: the blue heron (Ardea cœrulea), with double neck and stretched-out legs, slowly flapping his great wings, in his heavy flagging flight from shore to shore; the belted kingfisher (Alcedo alcyon) shot along with a harsh rattling laugh, or sitting on some low projecting branch, suddenly plunged headlong into the water beneath, and instantly emerged with his prey; the wood-duck (Anas sponsa) flew shyly along the margin, close to the water, beneath the overhanging bushes; now and then we overtook a water-tortoise (Emys) swimming at the surface, his body submerged, poking up his head at intervals with a timid curiosity, to see what all the noise was about.

     There is perhaps no river so winding as the Alabama. The boat’s head is turned towards every point of the compass, and that often within the space of a few minutes: sometimes we may make a run of fifty miles, and be then within three miles of where we were at first. Indeed, at the place where I am now residing, which is about six miles in a direct line from the river, I have been assured that the booming of a steamer’s engine will sometimes be heard in the morning, and continue to be audible at intervals for a great part of the day; the vessel having been, perhaps at no time more than twenty miles distant, in a course of many hours.

 It is pleasant to meet another boat in the river, especially in a part of the low country where the course is very tortuous: to catch the faint black line of smoke upon the sky, across the fields and marshes; after an interval to see it again, and faintly hear the roaring of the steam; then again to lose both sight and sound, and again and again to perceive both, gradually becoming more and more plainly perceptible; till at length she bursts into open view round some wooded point, rushes by in her majesty with her freight of human life, and, scarcely giving time to read her name broadly painted on her wheel-boxes, is instantly hidden beneath the black cloud of her own smoke.

     Owing to the great number of turns which the river makes, it was not until the second morning that we arrived at king's Landing, having been two nights and one day performing a distance which, in a direct line, is not more than a hundred and twenty miles. Every extensive planter whose estate borders on the river, has what is called a landing; that is, a large building to contain bales of cotton; and if the bank be precipitous, as it is in this instance, flights of wide steps leading to the summit, and a slide formed of planks reaching from the warehouse above to the water beneath. When cotton is to be shipped, the steamer is moored beneath the slide, the bale is rolled to the top, and down it shoots with an impetus that would send it across the deck far into the river, were not its impulse deadened by bales already on the deck; and even thus, when a row of bales receives the communicated force, I have seen the outmost one shot into the water, on the same principle that a billiard-ball in motion will impinge upon one at rest, and send it spinning along while itself ceases to move. Here, then, was I landed an hou1r before dawn; my trunks placed on the lowest step; and away went the vessel to her destination further up the river.

     I was quite alone, knowing neither the place nor the inhabitants; but I was told that I should find a path on the top of the cliff, which would lead me to the manager's house, and that the estate of a gentle man with whom I had some acquaintance lay about ten miles distant. I have said that I was alone, and it was quite dark; but I groped my way for about a quarter of a mile through the lofty forest, and came upon a clearing like a farm-yard, in which were several houses close together. I made my way to the door of one (while a rascally cur kept up a most pertinacious barking), and knocked and shouted loudly to no purpose. I shouted again, the echoes died away, and again all was still. I then tried another house, and was at length answered by the cracked voice of a negro woman within. I told my business, that I had landed from the steamer, and was on my way to Pleasant-hill, and requested her to get up. I had been informed that lodging and refreshments were to be obtained here. A few minutes passed, and no sign of getting up, when again I shouted, and received the same answer,— “Sar? Iss, Sar.” At last, after much exercise of patience, the old woman got up, and went to another house, and began to call—“Mas' James! Mas' James!” but Master James was still less inclined to turn out than the sable lady herself had been, and for a long time either could not or would not understand what was desired of him. All this, everything being so perfectly new to me, was more amusing than vexatious; it was not at all cold, and no inconvenience arose from remaining in the balmy air. When Master James tardily opened his castle door, rubbing his eyes, yet not half awake, I found that this lad, a boy of twelve years, son of the manager, was, with the exception of the negro maid, .the only person on the premises. He tumbled into bed again, while she raked among the ashes and got me some breakfast, by which time it was daylight. My luggage remained all this time on the steps at the river's marge, perfectly free from risk, so lonely was the spot, until at daylight Master James blew his conch long and loudly to call the people; and soon a dozen "black fellers" appeared with their mules, to whom having given orders about my trunks, I set out for the country.

     In the yard were some towering oaks, on which several Fox Squirrels (Sciurus capistratus) were frisking and leaping from bough to bough with great animation. A pair of the beautiful Summer Red-bird (Tanagra aestiva) were also chasing each other about the same trees. Though this is a gaily dressed little fellow, I don't think him so handsome as his congener, the Scarlet Tanager (Tanagra rubra); the fine contrast between the vermilion body and the jet black wings and tail of the latter pleases me more than the uniform scarlet coat of the fonner. Both, however, look very beautiful, as they play in the sun, among the quivering green leaves. With the day before me, I was not disposed to hurry on my journey, especially as so many charming things were every instant catching my attention, and enchaining my observation. Butterflies became abundant, especially the very beautiful little Hairstreaks (Thecla), species of great delicacy and beauty, whose hind wings end in one or two lengthened tags.  They are frisky little creatures, very fond of chasing each other through the air, and tumbling about with surprising quickness of evolution. When at rest, they often rub the surfaces of the hind wings upon each other, up and down alternately, and after a flight often return, like the flycatchers among birds, to the same spot from whence they departed; a projecting twig, or the topmost leaf of a bush. They were chiefly of one species (Theclafalacer. Boisd.), accompanied by several Polyommati. I did not find the Theclae numerous anywhere, but at that particular spot near King's landing.

     Beautiful flowers, of varied colours and fragrant perfume, thronged the edges of the forest, and the road-sides: especially in the corners of the fences, which are almost wholly made of rails set up in the zig-zag fashion so general in the north, commonly called a Virginia fence. In the angles of these fences, there is always a dense and ranIk mass of vegetation; and many handsome flowers attain a luxuriance there which is not seen elsewhere. The beautiful Scarlet Woodbine (Caprifolium sempervirens) grew in profuse splendour among the bushes, its flowers being no less remarlkable for fragrance than for elegance of form, and brilliancy of colour. I found that it possessed attractions not only for man; for, having gathered a spike, it wvas visited, even while in my hand, by a fine yellow Butterfly (Colias Eubule, Boisd.), which instantly began probing the deep tubular blossoms with its sucker; so eager was it to gratify its appetite, that without an"y trouble I caught it in my fingers.

     Many romantic spots occurred in the course of my walk, especially where some little brook crossed the road, making, where it emerged from and again entered the forest, pretty shady glens, so sombre with the bushes, whose over-arching tops touched each other overhead, and whose verdant and leafy branches seemed like an impenetrable wall, that the rays of an almost vertical sun were effectually shut out.

     In these cool retreats-and I saw several suchthe Emerald Virgin Dragon-fly (Agrion Virginica) delights to dwell. All the Dragon-fly tribe, as they are water-insects in their first stages, are observed to prefer hawking in the vicinity of water, as affording in abundance the prey which they pursue; but the open pond, or broad river, is most generally their resort. But he who would see the Emerald Virgin, must go to some such hidden brook as I have described; over which as it flows silently, in a deep soft bed of moss of the richest green, or brawls over a pebbly bottom, with impotent rage, three or four of these lovely insects may be seen at almost any hour on any summerday. It is, indeed, a fly of surpassing elegance and beauty; the male especially, whose long and slender body is of a metallic green, so refulgent that no colour can convey an idea of it. This green hue becomes a deep blue, if held so as to reflect the rays of light falling on it, at a very obtuse angle,---a property common to the green hue of many insects, and some birds. The eyes are glossy, round and prominent; the wings broad, filmy, and minutely netted, of an uniform purplish black. T'he female might easily be supposed to be of a different species: it is much duller in colour, the body being nearly black, having little of the bright green reflection; the wings are browner, and they are all marked with a rhomboidal white stigma, near the tip, which is wholly wanting in the male. Their mode of flight is graceful, but rather slow, so that they are easily captured; and they will not leave these their favourite haunts, even though pursued. I have no doubt they are born and die within the limited space of a few yards.

     The refreshing coolness of these wild woodlandbowers was so tempting that I could not resist talking refuge in them from the burning heat without; and thus I contracted an acquaintance with these" demoiselles." I encountered a stream, however, of higher pretensions-Mush-creek---which I crossed by means of a very primitive bridge, the trunk of a tall forest-tree, which had been cut down so as to fall across. On this tree, basking in the sun, lay a large snake, of a dusky brown hue, about four feet in length, which, on my disturbing it, instantly plunged into the middle of the stream, and dived to the bottom. As the water was turbid, I saw no more of it. It was, no doubt, the species commonly called. the Copper-belly (Coluber porcatus, Bosc.), whIch is numerous, but harmless. I afterwards observed a snake, probably of the same species, swimming swiftly in a clear stream, close to the surface, but entirely submerged; occasionally it stopped, protruding its head and neck above the surface to look about.

     In the fields of some large estates through which the road led, I saw, for the first time, negro-slaves performing the labours of agriculture. They were ploughing between rows of cotton, which was just appearing above ground. The ploughs appeared to me to be rude and ineffective, the share doing little more than scratching the soil: each was drawn by a single mule.

     It was revolting to me to observe women engaged in this laborious occupation, whose clothing ---if the sordid rags which fluttered about them deserve the name---was barely sufficient for the claims of decency. Poor wretches! whose lot is harder than that of their brute companions in labour! for they have to perform an equal amount of toil, w'ith the additional hardships of more whipping and less food. But perhaps you will say that I am not yet competent to speak on this subject :---perhaps I am not, therefore I defer it till a longer residence here has given me opportunities of more mature observation.

     To return, then, to the wild and the free: within a neglected pasture-field lay the carcase of a hog, which already diffused far and wide an odour anything but delectable. On this delicate morsel a pair of those obscene but useful vultures, the Turkey Buzzards (Cathartes aura), were regaling themselves; but, on my aPproach, they threw out their sable wings, and, lazily rising, flew slowly and heavily to a neighbouring tree, where, out of danger, they could still keep their banquet in view, and from whence they doubtless descended as soon as the coast was clear. Both raspberries (Rubus idaeus) and strawberries (Fragaria Virginiana) I found ripe on the banks beside the road; but I understand they are now going out of season. I was the more pleased to see them, as being old acquaintances, and reminding me of the north. Beguiled by these not very important but pleasing observations, a few only of which I have attempted to recount to you, rendered tenfold more interesting by the charm of absolute novelty that attended everything here, the day waned away unperceived. When I arrived at the hospitable mansion of fmY friend, the afternoon was considerably advanced; and I found that I had accomplished the tortoise-pace of one mile per hour. Here, however, I am at length, writing to you these rough notes of my woodland ramble. If it afford you half as much pleasure to read it as it afforded me to wallk it, I shall feel well repaid. I regret that I had not arrived here a couple of months earlier; the opening of the spring is the most interesting season of the year, when, after a suspension, more or less absolute, of activity and life, all nature springs into fresh existence: the gate of Eden is, as it were, re-opened, and birds, insects, and flowers, renew their Creator's praise. I can well believe that the hunter's boast to his mistress is scarcely exaggerated:--

"When our wide woods and mighty lawns Bloom to the April skies, The earth has no more gorgeous sight To show to human eyes,"-- BRYANT,

 

The commencement of this activity I have unfortunately missed: I have come in the very height of the spring, if it be not already verging into summer. However, be it mine to notice what still remains to be observed, instead of regretting that which is past, and which cannot be recalled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

from LETTER V.

 

 

I am just returned from a pleasant ride to Cahawba; it was solitary indeed, but not the less pleasant for that. Human society that is not congenial is a greater bore than a total want of it; but nature is always congenial and always conversible. The first part of the way lay through the forest, with nothing to be seen but tall pines on this side, and tall pines on that side. I quickly cantered through this, and came to the banks of Mush Creek, the same little stream that surrounds the school, but several miles nearer its outlet. The banks were high, but they had been cut away for the road to cross; most of the “creeks” have to be forded, few bridges being yet erected. When they are flooded by the winter rains, this is often an unpleasant, and sometimes a dangerous business, especially for ladies, as they are frequently so high that it is necessary to swim the horse; and to keep the saddle when the beast’s back is entirely submerged, amidst his struggles with the foaming rushing flood, is by no means an easy thing. However, I had nothing of this sort to encounter, the water scarce reaching the stirrups.

 

The steep banks of this rivulet were ornamented with a very handsome shrub, the Oak-leafed Hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia), whose large sinuous leaves of dark green were admirably set off by its noble spikes of white flowers, thickly clustered like snowballs. Common and indigenous flowers are apt to be disregarded by horticulturists, even if beautiful; but this one, though by no means uncommon, seems to have its claims to notice acknowledged, and is a favourite in our gardens. It thrives most in low damp situations, and affects the vicinity of water.

 

By-and-by I came to some extensive plantations, in the immediate vicinity of King’s Landing, where I had landed from the Alabama. Hereabout, on the sides of the road and in the angles of the fences, the Prickly-pear (Opuntia——?) was growing in abundance; it was a smaller species than that which I noticed on the shore at Mobile, not rising more than a foot in height, and the oval leaf-like divisions of the stem were also smaller. They were profusely adorned with the beautiful yellow flowers; but, warned by experience, I did not meddle with them. The tops of those receptacles from which the flowers had fallen were concave, and of a delicate pink hue.

 

On suddenly turning round a point ofthe forest, where the road was overflowed with water, forming a large pond, I surprised a Blue Heron (Ardea cœrulea), which was standing, in the silent and motionless manner of the genus, on the very edge of the pool, intently gazing into the water, as if cut in stone. It was doubtless watching for water-insects and worms. On seeing me, it rose to flight, when it seemed all wings, and was soon lost in the deep woods. The Herons are shy retiring birds, delighting in the gloomy solitude of marshes, or unfrequented lakes, or where the large rivers flow through the untouched forest. Their form is gracefully slender, and their colour usually chaste and pleasing; that of the present species is a lavender-blue, the head and neck purplish.

 

A pretty moth which I had not seen before (Callimorpha Lecontei) was rather numerous: the wings are horizontal, white, fantastically marked into numerous divisions by bands of dark-brown, much more conspicuous in some specimens than in others.

 

Cahawba lies on the opposite bank of the Alabama from me, that is, the right bank as you go down. The Cahawba River empties itself into the Alabama just above it, so that the town stands on a point of land. This is a river of considerable length, and is navigable for some distance by steamers during the winter. The summer heats diminish the volume of all the rivers materially; even the Alabama is now so much shrunk, that steamers can no longer come up so far as this, so that water communication with Mobile is cut off for some months, except for very small boats.

 

I followed the road until it led me to the very water’s edge. Cahawba was in sight, just before me, but the broad river rolled between; I was for a moment at a loss how to cross, but presently perceived a flat ferry-boat on the opposite side, lying under the precipitous bank. I sent a shout across, and two old “nigger-fellers” began to shove their flat over. No house or inn was near to put up my horse, so I took him into a little wood, and tied him to a tree. This is a common practice; in the woods immediately round a place of worship, on a Sunday, we may see a hundred or more saddled horses usually tied by the bridle to a small hanging twig, and not to the trunk; the reason of which is, partly to give the horse more scope to move about, and partly because the elasticity of the branch, to the end of which he is fastened, yields to his movements, whereas, if tied to the trunk, he might by a sudden pull break the bridle and get loose.

 

The negroes ferried me over the romantic river, for which I paid a “pic” (i.e. a picayune, the sixteenth of a dollar, or half a “bit”), the smallest silver coin current. Cahawba was formerly the seat of government of the state but it is now much decayed, and has a very  desolate appearance: a few “ stores,” a lawyer’s office or two, and two or three tradesmen’s shops, with the usual proportion of rum-shops or “groceries,” whose branch of business seemed scarcely to partake of the general decay, if I might judge from the number of customers in the verandahs—appeared to constitute the business of the “city.” I found no temptation to linger here, and quickly returned.

 

In going, I had heard, from a wet marshy place beside the road, a continued and most deafening shrieking, extremely shrill and loud. When I carne to the place in returning, the noise was still kept up, and my curiosity was much excited. I watched, and had reason to believe it was produced by a small dusky species of frog (Rana clamata?), for, on approaching the spots whence it proceeded, it instantly ceased, at least there, and two or three of these frogs would dash into the water and dive. Wishing much to witness the act of uttering the sound, (which was no easy matter, for, as I have said, it ceased on the approach of a foot,) I crept cautiously to the edge of one of the little pools, in which I saw two or three frogs: they were very shy, and kept under water, but I waited patiently, quiet and motionless, a long time, taking care not to stir hand or foot, At length, one of them, taking courage, raised his head and half of his body out of water, sitting up, as it were, and resting on the toes of his forefeet, and thus uttered the piercing shriek, which had a kind of cracked or ringing sound, somewhat like that of a penny trumpet, When about to cry, he first fluttered the skin of the throat a few times, then suddenly inflated it, till it was like a blown bladder, perfectly round, as big as his head, which continued so all the time of the shriek, about four or five seconds, I saw him do it many times close to my feet: it was a very singular sight, The skin of the throat seemed, when thus inflated, like a thin transparent membrane.

 

I had always supposed that the food of the Ladybirds (Coccinelladœ) was wholly confined to the different species of Plant-lice (Aphides), or at least to insects. We have a large species common here, which is yellow, with seven black spots on each elytron, and six on the thorax (Coccinella borealis), and I frequently find this species, sometimes congregated in groups amounting to a dozen, arid sometimes single individuals, on the leaves of the water-melon (Cucurbita citrullus), on which they feed, gnawing ragged holes on the surface of the leaf, not at the edge.

 

The logs of which the school-house is built, being dry, the bark of course is loose and easily separable: on pulling it off, we see some curious little insects (Lepisma), which, on being exposed, run very swiftly, endeavouring to hide themselves from the light, They have no wings in any of their stages, being one of the few genera of true insects belonging to the order Aptera. The tail is composed of three slender bristles (setœ), of which the external ones are held sometimes parallel to the central one, forming apparently but one, and sometimes diverging so much as to make two right angles with it. They are covered with powdery scales of a silvery lustre, in which respect they resemble the Lepidoptera, as also in the very slight tenacity with which these adhere, coming off upon the finger on the slightest touch.

 

One of the most prominent and most frequent of the sounds which strike a stranger here, and one which cannot fail to awaken the curiosity and excite the inquiries of even the most unobservant, is the call of the Quail (Ortyx Virginiana). All day long, from morning till night, we hear the words “Bob White,” whistled with invincible pertinacity in every direction. The sound is exactly what may be produced by a person attempting to whistle these words, making the second syllable seven or eight notes higher than the first. It is loud and clear, and may be heard a long way off. The position of the bird, when uttering his call, may be the top of an out-house, or a pile of logs; but his favourite place is the topmost rail of the fence; for it is to the plantations he chiefly resorts, being rarely seen in the forest. I found a few days ago an egg of the Quail, lying on the bare ground in the midst of the public road; it was pure white, very sharp at the small end, almost conical. Though it generally makes a large nest, well covered over, I am told that it is not uncommon for it to drop its eggs on the ground, without any nest.

 

Wilson has some interesting speculations connected with this species, After speaking of some Quails, or Partridges, as he calls them indiscriminately, that had been brought up by a hen, he says:—“It has been frequently asserted to me, that the Quails lay occasionally in each other’s nests, Though I have never myself seen a case of this kind, I do not think it altogether improbable, from the fact that they have often been known to drop their eggs in the nest of the common hen, when that happened to be in the fields, or at a small distance from the house, The two Partridges above mentioned were raised in this manner; and it was particularly remarked by the lady who gave me the information, that the hen sat for several days after her own eggs were hatched, until the young Quails made their appearance. The Partridge, on her part, has sometimes been employed to hatch the eggs of the common domestic hen. A friend of mine, who himself made the experiment, informs me that of several hen's eggs which he substituted in place of those of the Partridge, she brought out the whole; and that for several Weeks, he occasionally surprised her, in various parts of the plantation, with her brood of chickens, on which occasions she exhibited the most distressful alarm, and practised her usual manœuvres, Even after they were considerably grown, and larger than the Partridge herself, she continued to lead them about; but though their notes or call were those of common chickens, their manners had all the shyness, timidity, and alarm of young Partridge s, running with great rapidity, and squatting in the grass, exactly in the manner of the Partridge, Soon after this they disappeared, having probably been destroyed by dogs, by the gun, or by birds of prey. Whether the domestic fowl might not by this method be very soon brought back to its original savage state, and thereby supply another additional subject for the amusement of the sportsman, will scarcely admit of a doubt. But the experiment, in order to ensure its success, would require to be made in a quarter of the country less exposed than ours to the ravages of guns, traps, dogs, and the deep snows of winter, that the new tribe might have full time to become completely naturalized, and well fixed in all their native habits.”

 

Going home from school one evening, we saw crossing the path before us a very beautiful species of snake, which I suppose to have been the Scarlet Viper (Vipera fulvia, HARLAN; Coluber coccineus, SAY). The boys gave chase to it, and killed it; they called it the Blunt-tailed Mocassin Snake. It was bright scarlet, with transverse bands of black. I examined its head, and found that, by the rule given by Shaw, it should be harmless, as it had small teeth in the palate as well as in the jaw, and I perceived no poison fangs; but if I am right as to the species, it must have them: it has the reputation of being highly poisonous, but with the common people this accusation is so indiscriminately brought against all the tribe of serpents, that it is of very little weight; as I have found in most other instances of the kind, when I inquired if they had ever heard of anyone who was bitten by it, they acknowledged that they had not, but “everybody said that it was venomous.” The children are very expert in discovering indications of the wild animals: they often show me a slight line in the dust across the road, where they say a snake has crossed, and they can even deter mine in which direction it travelled by a still more shadowy mark made by its tail.

 

I have sometimes thought, that the difference between the intellectual capacity of one individual and that of another, is much less than is generally supposed. There are certain conventional channels, into which we expect the mental energies to be directed, and if we do not find them in these, we are apt to conclude them altogether wanting. You shall take two boys in a school. One is the first boy in the first class; he repeats his lesson with0uIt a mistake; the pedagogue pats his head, and prophesies that he will be a councillor. The other of the same age, with the same chances, is the last boy of the last class; he perceives no agreement at all between the verb and the nominative case; you can scarcely convince him by argument that two and two make four. One of these is called a bright genius, the other is branded as a stupid dunce. But take these lads into the fields and lanes. The stupid one is expert at all games and exercises; is acquainted with every bird by sight; knows the colour, size, shape, and number of the eggs of each; can lay his paw upon all the nests in the neighbourhood; can ride, swim, trap a mole, shoot a hawk, hook a trout, like a professed adept. The genius is become a mope; he sees no pleasure in all this; can't learn it when he tries; knows as much about it when he leaves off as when he began; is out of his element---a fish out of water. The tables are turned. So it is with these boys of mine: they know little which in the cultivated society of crowded cities is thought worth knowing, or called knowledge at all; but in the sights and sounds of the wilderness, their trained eyes and ears, young as they are, read a language, which to the mere oppidan would be a sealed book, putting all his boasted learning at fault. 

 

Of course provincialisms—slight peculiarities in  dialect—are to be found in every part of a large country speaking the same language, and the inhabitant of one district has no right to assume any superiority over one of another who uses a phrase differing from his own. Still, however, in all liberality of allowance, the knowledge of such differences may be a legitimate source of amusement, and possibly of instruction. Let me tell you one or two idioms, in which the Alabamians rejoice. To “holler,” is used to express any sort of noise as well as shouting; a carpenter-bee was buzzing the other day, and one of the children remarked “how the bee hollers in his hole!” To “whip,” is to overcome, as we use “beat” in the same extensive sense. “He whipped me at leaping, but I reckon I can whip him at running.” To “tote “ is to carry; “I toted the bucket,” means “ I carried the little tin pail in which the dinner was brought to school.” A small river is a “creek,” and a brook is a “branch.” When I came first, I was inquiring for a neighbour’s house, and was directed to pursue a certain path through the woods, till I crossed the branch. I looked out for some low branch of a tree that grew across the road, and searched in vain, of course. The sticks, straws, foam, &c., which accumulate by the side of a stream are designated by the expressive term “trash.” In dress, trousers are “ pantaloons,” and a jacket is a “roundabout.” I have been told of some “severe dogs,” kept in this vicinity; and perhaps you have heard the joke about that “ most severe pony,” which is said to have been chased thrice round the field by a flash of lightning, and gained the race at last. When one wishes another to cease doing what is unpleasant, he requests him to “ quit doing it,” or else “ make tracks,” that is, “ go away.” “ Good,” is used in the sense of “ well;” “ he writes good.” “Right,” in, the old English acceptation of “very,” thus: “it is a right pretty book.” When one wishes to speak contemptuously of another, he either calls him “all sorts of a feller,” or says, “he’s no account.” To learn a thing by heart is to “memorize” it. Inquiry is pronounced and accented “enquiry;” idea is idea; and other anomalies in accentuation exist, of which these may suffice. Still I have never heard an American fall into the blunder of calling a white egg, a “wite hegg,” as thousands of our countrymen do. But what has all this to do with natural history?—not much, in good truth, unless you class it under the head of “habits and manners of animals belonging to the genus Homo.

 

…

 

There is an inexpressible grandeur in these primeval forests. Many of the trees are of immense magnitude, and their trunks rise like pillars from the soft and damp soil, shooting upward in columnal majesty; not, in general, gnarled and twisted and branched, like the trees of our own land, or as even these same kinds would be if growing in the open field, exposed to the influences of the sun and winds. The number of young saplings that at first sprang up together prevented the throwing forth of side-shoots; each struggled upward toward the light of heaven, each striving for the mastery over its fellows, for the possession of the space and the light which could be obtained right upward. To this end all the vegetative energy was directed; the sap was not wasted in lateral buds, or if such peeped forth, they withered for lack of light. But as all were engaged in the same struggle, the desired object still removed as the summits of the aspiring trees pushed upward; till the weaker, being left behind, died out one by one, and the mighty winners of the race at length found themselves comparatively few in number, and divided by vacant spaces sufficiently wide to allow of the expansion of lateral branches, and the formation of verdant crowns of interwoven foliage.

 

And thus we see the original forest. The ground is commonly clear of underwood to a remarkable degree, so that it is by no means unusual for hunters to pursue their game on horseback at full speed through these sylvan recesses. A few slender shrubs occur, of species that delight in the greenwood shade; and in some parts the trees are united by trailing vines and prickly creepers that clog up the way; but these are rather found in the woods of second growth than in the pristine forests.

 

To walk in the forest alone is a high gratification. The perfect stillness and utter solitude, unbroken, commonly, by even ordinary woodland sounds and sights, tranquillize and sober the mind; the gloom has a solemn effect, for there is no light but what penetrates through the green leaves far above our head; the range of vision all around is limited by the innumerable straight and smooth trunks, exactly alike on every side, in which the fancy becomes lost. The devout spirit is drawn upward in such a scene, which imagination presently turns into a magnificent temple, whose far distant roof is borne on uncounted columns; and indeed it is a glorious temple, one worthy of the Hand that reared it.

 

…

 

A large moth, the Purple Underwing (Catocala Epione), led me a wild-goose chase the other day. All the moths of this genus are beautiful, the under wings being generally dyed with brilliant crimson, scarlet, or orange, banded with black; in some however they are wholly black, as in the species before us, with a changeable purple gloss. The upper wings, in all, I believe, are finely variegated with sober colours, grey, brown, and black, in many waves and shades; and in this we see a wise ordination of Providence for their safety. Their usual resting place is the perpendicular trunk of a tree; and if the bright and conspicuous under-wings were visible, their retreat would be at once discovered; but when at rest, these are entirely concealed by the fore-wings, whose varied but sombre hues so exactly correspond with those of the bark as effectually to baffle the sight, unless the observer be very eagle-eyed. In pursuing these moths, particularly a very handsome one, whose hind-wings are scarlet, with two black bands (Catocala Ilia), I have observed and admired this fact, though as a collector I have been ready to wish they were a little more readily seen. They haunt the interior of the forest, and fly usually in the afternoon; the brilliant red of the wings is very visible in flight, and therefore their course is easily traced; they fly swiftly and suddenly, and on alighting on the trunk of a tree, usually a little out of reach, are perfectly at rest in an instant, so that they appear to vanish; for though I have watched them to a tree only a few yards distant, and have kept my eye fixed on the spot; on coming to it, I have looked in vain for the moth, and supposed that I have been deceived; but, to be sure, on reaching up to the spot with a stick, the red wings flash out, and away flits the moth to another tree.

 

There is a hymenopterous fly (Scolia quadrimaculata) which I have seen here occasionally, ill the paths of the forest, towards evening. It is shaped like a bee, but is vastly larger, deep black, with four large yellow spots on the abdomen, placed in the form of a square; the wings have in a high degree that brilliant violet reflection which is found in many species of this order; the legs are thickly clothed with coarse black hair. The first time I saw it, it was fluttering along the ground, half flying, half crawling, carrying a larva of a lamellicorn beetle in its mouth, as big and long as my little finger, indeed much larger and heavier than itself; I was told that it is in the habit of burying these in the ground. Doubtless, like many other similar insects, it stupifies the larva, without killing it, and then lays its egg in the hole with it, so that the young, as soon as hatched, finds its food thus ready prepared for it. The insect is somewhat clumsy in its motions, even when unencumbered; sometimes fluttering along the ground thus, a few inches at a time, so slowly as easily to be caught, at other times flying fairly enough, but with a heavy lumbering flight. I do not believe that it is poisonous, or, if it is, that it readily exerts its powers.

 

In the yard surrounding the school, is a hole in the sandy earth, in which sits a Toad (Bufo musicus). The hole is just wide enough to hold him, but nine or ten inches deep. He stations himself just at the mouth, with his sapient head and brilliant eyes peeping out. If a stick is presented to him, he snaps fiercely at it, but if pressed, retires to the bottom of his cell, returning however to the mouth immediately. I presume his occupation there is to look out for any hapless insect that may chance that way. We dig him out and he hops away; very nimbly, considering he is but a toad.

 

…

 

And, while speaking of insects, I may just mention two or three others that I have recently seen, though I know little of them but their appearance. I took a few days ago, sucking some flowers beneath the burning beams of noon, a very pretty little creature, the Humble-bee Hawkmoth (Sesia Pelasgus). Having taken it in Canada, likewise, I presume it is widely scattered over the continent; though my northern specimen differs somewhat from the present. It looks very much like a humble-bee, the body being clothed with the same sort of down, and banded with black and yellow; the wings are perfectly transparent, except the margins, which are covered with dark brown scales. Like the Humming-bird Hawkmoth (Macroglossa stellatarum) of our own country, it is abroad (I believe exclusively) by dayIight, and delights in whisking from flower to flower; its motions are swift and sudden. There is a beautiful flower now in blossom in the gardens, the Homed Poppy (Argemone Mexicana), which forms an attraction to these brighthued insects. It is of a golden yellow, and has handsomely spotted, thistle-like leaves.

 

Among the soft decaying wood, beneath the bark of a fallen tree, I found many specimens of a very minute Earwig (Forficula?). Most of them were in larva; but one was in the perfect state, and very closely resembled in appearance our common European species, but for its minuteness, being less than one-fourth of an inch in length. The larvae of this genus have a far greater likeness to the imago than those of beetles, the forceps being present, and the shape identical; but the elytra and wings of course are absent.

 

There is another insect which I cannot pass over, for its very singular form. It is the Hair Spectre (Emesa filum), of a light grey colour, about an inch and a half in length, with long limbs, but so slender that the insect looks like a bit of grey thread, to which some bent hairs are attached. It moves slowly and awkwardly, often swaying backward and forward, as if balancing itself; but, from the length of its legs, it makes considerable strides. It has a sucker bent under the breast, in place of jaws, like the Bugs; and the thigh and shank of the fore-leg are armed with teeth or spines, as in the Mantes, which, on being doubled together, fit into each other. Such was its slenderness, that in endeavouring to transfix ot for my cabinet, with a very fine pin, I cut it through and destroyed it. I have taken one since from a peach-tree, and it is occasionally seen on people's clothes after walking, but is not very common.

 

The woods are frequently enlivened by the antics of playful Squirrels, of large size. They especially haunt the tall trees that stand round the houses of the planters, or possibly they seem to prefer these trees because they are there more under constant observation. There are several species, of which the most common is the Fox-squirrel (Sciurus capistratus). He is a beast of some pretensions, a full grown male occasionally measuring fourteen or fifteen inches in length, exclusive of the tail, which is nearly as much more….

 

He chatters, shows his teeth, and grunts at you from the security of some lofty branch; utters his short impatient bark; dashes round the trunk; threatens again from the opposite side; “whisks his brush,” as the poet says, and declares, as plainly as action can speak, that he has a great mind to ,eat you up, only that you are so provokingly big. 

 

Generally two or three play together, and it is very amusing to watch their manoeuvrings; to mark how they leap from branch to branch, to see them fly round and round almost with the agility of a bird; now they chase each other round and round the tree, dart up and down the smooth pillar-like trunk, in and out of the hollows; now they scamper along some horizontal bough till they reach the terminal twig, whence they take a flying jump to the neighbouring tree, fearless of the chasm that yawns between. All this is pretty play, but the merciless planter puts a tragical end to it. He comes up with his unerring rifle; the barrel drops into his left hand; the stock is at his shoulder; a momentary sight—crack !—down falls the gamesome squirrel, plunging through the green leaves, and plumps heavily on the earth. A drop of blood on each side, staining the white fur of the belly, shows that the fatal ball has passed right through. The planter loads again; as much powder as will just cover the ball lying in the hollow of his left hand, is the charge; the ramrod twice springs hard out of the barrel, and again the rifle points upward. The other falls; and these two we carry in to furnish a dinner for the family. I admire, as they lie warm and flexible, yet motionless, in my hand, the soft thick fur, mottled grey on the back, and pure white beneath; the feet, the nose, and the ears, likewise spotless white, and the tail pencilled with long parted hairs of a delicate light grey. Truly it is a pretty little animal.

 

Occasionally we see Squirrels differing greatly from this in colour, but of the same size and manners. One is almost wholly black; another has the upper parts dark brown, and the belly rust-red; the latter is not uncommon. Both of these are considered by Dr. Bachmann, of South Carolina, as varieties of the Fox-squirrel.

 

Stewed, or made into a pie, squirrel is excellent eating; the fat is apt to be rank, especially of the males; the meat is white, much like that of the rabbit, but superior in flavour. Roasted I do not much admire it, as it is somewhat flabby.

 

There is a much smaller grey Squirrel, as common as the former, but haunting somewhat different situations. This is the Carolina Squirrel (S. Carolinensis); it is coloured nearly as the Fox-squirrel, but the grey coat of the back inclines to rusty. It is much less active and playful; frequents rather the dark sombre woods around the swamps and rivers, and hides under the long ragged tufts of Spanish moss (Tillandsia) that stream from the branches. Both kinds make a comfortable dray or nest in the fork of a tree; externally of twigs, sticks, and leaves, internally lined with moss and lichen. This is not only for the rearing of the offspring, but for the habitation of the adults, at least during the summer.

 

The value of the flesh to make or eke out a dinner is not the only motive which induces the planter to shoot these little truants. A rifle-ball, or a charge of powder, is worth more here than a pound or two of meat. They are incorrigible robbers. They appear to imagine that the planter's corn is sown exclusively for them, and fail not to make all the use they can of his liberality. Morning, noon, and eve, Squggy is in the corn-field; from the time that the young and tender grain begins to form within the enveloping sheath, till it has grown large, and hard, and yellow, and is housed (at least what remains of it) in the barn. But especially does the Squirrel like it and unremittingly he pays his devotions to it) when the grain is of that plump but soft and pulpy substance that resembles cream; when the planter's palate, too, is particularly pleased with it, and when he plucks the ears, and, just parching them over the fire, brings them to table under the appellation of roseneers, q.d. roasting ears. This similarity of taste between planter and squirrel induces rivalry, and the result is as I have stated—vœ victis.

 

Some time ago a very clever fellow announced that he had discovered an infallible preventive of the depredations of the Squirrels So important a declaration was of course received with open ears; a considerable remuneration was collected for the secret, and the planters of the neighbourhood met him to be instructed. The sage received the cash, buttoned his pockets, and bowedd “ Gentlemen,” he said, “my scheme is simple, but effective. I have observed that the Squirrels invariably begin their attacks on the outside row of corn in the field Omit the outside row, and they won't know where to begin!” The door was open—the speaker was gone—not waiting even for the applause, which his ingenious plan so much merited.

 

In the comparative solitude of these vast forests, the clearings are small compared with the immensity of the untouched wilds; the dwellings few and remote from each other; many of the occupations, and especially the amusements, which belong to the crowded inhabitants of Europe are here unknown. The wild animals are more familiar to man than his fellows; the planter often passes days, or even weeks, without seeing a human face except those or his own family and his overseer; his negroes he scarcely considers as human; they are but “goods and chattels.” Self-defence, and the natural craving for excitement, compel him to be a hunter; it is the appropriate occupation of a new, grand, luxuriant, wild country like this, and one which seems natural to man, to judge from the eagerness and zest with which everyone engages in it when he has the opportunity. The long rifle is familiar to every hand; skill in the use of it is the highest accomplishment which a southern gentleman glories in; even the children acquire an astonishing expertness in handling this deadly weapon at a very early age.

 

But skill as a marksman is not estimated by quite the same standard as in the old country. Pre-eminence in any art must bear a certain relation to the average attainment; and where this is universally high, distinction can be won only by something very exalted. Hence, when the young men meet together to display their skill, curious tests are employed, which remind one of the days of old English archery, when splitting the peeled wand at a hundred paces, and such like, were the boast of the greenwood bowman. Some of these practices I had read of, but here I find them in frequent use. “Driving the nail” is one of these; a stout nail is hammered into a post about half way up to the head; the riflemen then stand at an immense distance, and fire at the nail; the object is to hit the nail so truly on the head with the ball as to drive it home. To hit it at all on one side, so as to cause it to bend or swerve, is failure; missing it altogether is out of the question.

 

Another feat is “threading the needle.” An auger-hole is pierced through the centre of an upright board; the orifice is just large enough to allow the ball to pass without touching; and it is expected to pass without touching. A third is still more exciting—“snuffing the candle.” It is performed in the night, and the darkness of the scene adds a wildness to the amusement that greatly enhances its interest. A calm night is chosen; half-a-dozen ends of tallow-candle and a box of matches are taken out into the field, whither the uproarious party of stalwart youths repair. One of them takes his station by the mark; a stick is thrust perpendicularly in the ground, on the top of which a bit of candle is fixed either in a socket, or by means of a few drops of grease. A plank is set up behind the candle, to receive the balls, which are all carefully picked out after the sport is over, being much too valuable to be wasted. The marker now lights the candle, which glimmers like a feeble star, but just visible at the spot where the expectant party are standing. Each one carefully loads his rifle; some mark the barrel with a line of chalk to aid the sight in the darkness; others neglect this, and seem to know the position of the “pea” by instinct. There is a sharp short crack, and a line of fire; a little cloud of smoke rises perpendicularly upwards; an unmerciful shout of derisIon hails the unlucky marksman, for the candle is still twinkling dimly and redly as before. Another confidently succeeds; the light is suddenly extinguished; his ball has cut it off just below the flame. This won't do; the test of skill is to snuff the candle, without putting it out.

 

A third now steps up; it is my friend Jones, the overseer on the plantation where I am residing; he is a crack shot, and we all expect something superb now. The marker has replaced the lighted candle; it is allowed to burn a few minutes until the wick has become long. The dimness of the light at length announces its readiness, and the marker cries “Fire!” A moment's breathless silence follows the flash and the report; a change was seen to pass upon the distant gleam, and the dull red light has suddenly become white and sparkling. “Right good!” cries the marker; the ball has passed through the centre of the flame and “snuffed the candle,” and whoops and shouts of applause ring through the field, and echo from the surrounding forest. This extraordinary feat is usually performed two or three times in every contest of skill.

 

A common exploit is “barking off” a squirrel. My worthy friend Major Vanner, the other day, at my request, performed this.  A couple of fox-squirrels were playing far up on a towering beech in the yard, little suspecting what was coming “for the benefit of science.” My friend went in, and brought out his trusty rifle; waited a moment for one of the little frisky gentlemen to be rightly placed, for it is needful to the feat that the squirrel should be clinging to the bark of the tree. The first shot was a failure; the squirrel fell dead indeed, but it was pierced with the ball, which was not the object. Perhaps the creature had moved a little at the instant, or perhaps the planter had been too carelessly confident; however, his mettle was up, and he took care that the second should be all right. The ball struck the trunk of the tree just beneath the belly of the animal, driving off a piece of the bark as large as one's hand, and with it the squirrel, without a wound or a ruffled hair, but killed by the concussion.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

LETTER XII

 

 

The manners of these Southerners differ a good deal from those of their more calculating compatriots, the Yankees of the north and east. In many respects the diversity is to the advantage of the former; there is a bold gallant bearing, a frank free cordiality, and a generous, almost boundless hospitality, in the southern planter, which are pleasing. But the abiding thought that "the people," as being the source of law, are therefore above law, which is deep-seated throughout this land of " free institutions," is much more frequently made operative in the south than in the north. Here " every man is his own law-maker and lawbreaker, judge, jury, and executioner." 

 

The darkest side of the southerner is his quarrelsomeness, and recklessness of human life. The terrible bowie-knife is ever ready to be drawn, and it is drawn and used too, on the slightest provocation. Duels are fought with this horrible weapon, in which the combatants are almost chopped to pieces; or with the no less fatal, but less shocking rifle, perhaps within pistol-distance.

 

Slavery, doubtless, helps to brutalize the character, by familiarizing the mind with the infliction of human suffering. If an English butcher is popularly reputed unfit to serve on a jury, an American slave-owner is not less incompetent to appreciate what is due to man. I had intended to give you some particulars of the working of "the domestic institution," for I have witnessed some of its horrors; but I will not allow my pen to trace much of this, especially as you may learn it from other sources. I am obliged to be very cautious, not only in expressing any sympathy with the slaves, but even in manifesting anything like curiosity to know their condition, for there is a very stern jealousy of a stranger's interference on these points.

 

Still, facts will ooze out: in confidential conversation I have heard things not generally known, even here, which are truly dreadful. Instruments of torture, devised with diabolical ingenuity, are said to be secretly used by planters of the highest standing, for the punishment of refractory negroes; devices which I dare not describe by letter. It is but right, however, to say, that these practices were told me with expressions of reprobation.

 

Floggings of fifty, or a hundred lashes, with a stout cow-hide whip, are frequent, especially at this season of cotton-picking—the most trying time of the year for the negroes. The work is severe, and the quantity demanded as the day's task often proves short when weighed at night, in which case the lash is pretty surely applied. Desertion is, therefore, more common at this season: the chance of a poor wretch's escape, through a thousand miles of hostile country, without funds, without friends, without knowledge of geography,—every white man he sees his enemy, ipso facto, and his colour betraying him to all,—is small indeed; yet such is the pressure of the bitter yoke, that it is constantly attempted.

 

It is to counteract this tendency to desertion that the patrol system has been devised. The young men of a given neighbourhood enrol themselves in a band, and scour the country by night, taking the duty in turns, to arrest every negro who is abroad without a written pass. Armed parties frequently go in pursuit of runaways, who are shot down relentlessly if they oppose, or refuse to surrender. The patrols are allowed this power, not indeed by law, but by public opinion.

 

The aid of trained dogs is also used in the pursuit of runaways. Bloodhounds, of high breeding and of great ferocity, are taught to follow the human trail in this manner. A negro is sent into the woods, and told to climb up into a tree; when sufficient time has been allowed him, the hound is set on the scent, and is soon at the foot of the tree, which he will not leave till the party come up and release the poor slave. If any accident prevent him from mounting the tree in time, his life will probably pay the forfeit; for these ferocious dogs not unfrequently kill their victims.

 

Hunger adds its sharp spur to the many goads which impel the wretched sable race to fight or flee. In proportion to the sensuousness of the negro temperament—a character which no one can deny to it, but which is certainly not likely to be lessened by that utter privation of all intellectual enjoyment to which slavery dooms him—does this iron enter into his soul. I believe more slaves run away from the want of food, than even from the terror of the lash. The ordinary allowance, for each adult, is a peck of corn-meal, and three pounds and a half of meat per week; sometimes a little molasses is added, and, in the fruit season, the orchard affords them a considerable help. But, when this is over, the allowance is very short for the support of robust men toiling in daily field-labour from morn to night.

 

What will be the end of American slavery? I know that many dare not entertain this question. They tremble when they look at the future. It is like a huge deadly serpent, which is kept down by incessant vigilance, and by the strain of every nerve and muscle; while the dreadful feeling is ever present, that, some day or other, it will burst the weight that binds it, and take a fearful retribution.

 

But what can be done? The laws of this State absolutely forbid emancipation; so that, if an Alabama planter desire to manumit one or all of his slaves, he dares not do it here. His only means of accomplishing his wish, is to take them to some other State, the laws of which are less rigid, and give them freedom there. I know of some who have done this.

 

Yet surely such an act is a gigantic triumph of principle, that we can scarcely overrate. Not only does it defy almost universal opinion, but it is a sacrifice of property so valuable that all other property is worthless without it. Slaves are indispensable in Alabama, while the present condition endures. A man may have a thousand acres of land, but if he have no slaves to cultivate his cotton and corn, his acres are a mere waste, for free labour is out of the question. I know of planters in this neighbourhood, who possess from one hundred to two hundred slaves, valued at from two hundred to one thousand dollars each (not including children, who are commonly sold by weight, at from seven to ten dollars per pound),—a property which may, perhaps, be worth 100,000 dollars, or about 20,000l. sterling. The greatest portion of this has come down to the present pos sessor by inheritance; he has not been trained to habits of personal industry, but has always looked to his slaves as the means of his livelihood. Now, to expect a man voluntarily to throw up such an estate as this—reducing himself by one act, from affluence to absolute poverty and helplessness—is to expect a miracle of disinterested benevolence, such as the world does not see once in a century.

 

Nor is the case much altered, on the supposition of legislative emancipation; for the men who are to make the law are the very planters in question, or their delegates: and it is vain to expect them to do that for themselves collectively, which they would not do individually.

 

Besides, this aspect of the matter touches only the pecuniary interest of the possessors. There is another subject which, perhaps, involves a yet grander difficulty: What is to become of the slaves, if they be emancipated? To throw two millions of persons, uneducated and uncivilized, smarting under a sense of accumulated wrongs, at once loose upon society, would be more than dangerous, it would be certain destruction.

 

Yet the institution is doomed. Its end approaches surely, perhaps swiftly. Its fall cannot but be ardently desired by every right-thinking mind, for it is one begun, pursued and perpetuated in iniquity and cruelty; but when it comes, it can hardly be other than a terrible convulsion. I never felt this so strongly, as since I have had personal and close observation of the elements of the strife, the parties at issue. In spite of the beauty and grandeur of the country, the lucrative remuneration which a person of education receives for his talents and time, and the rich and almost virgin field for the pursuit of natural history (no small temptation to me),—I feel slavery alone to be so enormous an evil, that I could not live here: I am already hastening to be gone.