Louisiana–which is the first distinctly Southern-looking town
you come to, downward-bound; lies level and low, shade-trees hung
with venerable gray beards of Spanish moss; ‘restful, pensive,
Sunday aspect about the place,’ comments Uncle Mumford, with feeling–
also with truth.
A Mr. H. furnished some minor details of fact concerning this
region which I would have hesitated to believe if I had not
known him to be a steamboat mate. He was a passenger of ours,
a resident of Arkansas City, and bound to Vicksburg to join his boat,
a little Sunflower packet. He was an austere man, and had
the reputation of being singularly unworldly, for a river man.
Among other things, he said that Arkansas had been injured and kept
back by generations of exaggerations concerning the mosquitoes here.
One may smile, said he, and turn the matter off as being a small thing;
but when you come to look at the effects produced, in the way
of discouragement of immigration, and diminished values of property,
it was quite the opposite of a small thing, or thing in any wise
to be coughed down or sneered at. These mosquitoes had been
persistently represented as being formidable and lawless;
whereas ‘the truth is, they are feeble, insignificant in size,
diffident to a fault, sensitive’–and so on, and so on; you would
have supposed he was talking about his family. But if he was soft
on the Arkansas mosquitoes, he was hard enough on the mosquitoes
of Lake Providence to make up for it–‘those Lake Providence colossi,’
as he finely called them. He said that two of them could whip a dog,
and that four of them could hold a man down; and except help come,
they would kill him–‘butcher him,’ as he expressed it.
Referred in a sort of casual way–and yet significant way–
to ‘the fact that the life policy in its simplest form is unknown
in Lake Providence–they take out a mosquito policy besides.’
He told many remarkable things about those lawless insects.
Among others, said he had seen them try to vote. Noticing that
this statement seemed to be a good deal of a strain on us,
he modified it a little: said he might have been mistaken,
as to that particular, but knew he had seen them around
the polls ‘canvassing.’
There was another passenger–friend of H.’s–who backed up the harsh
evidence against those mosquitoes, and detailed some stirring adventures
which he had had with them. The stories were pretty sizable,
merely pretty sizable; yet Mr. H. was continually interrupting with
a cold, inexorable ‘Wait–knock off twenty-five per cent. of that;
now go on;’ or, ‘Wait–you are getting that too strong; cut it down,
cut it down–you get a leetle too much costumery on to your statements:
always dress a fact in tights, never in an ulster;’ or, ‘Pardon, once more:
if you are going to load anything more on to that statement, you want
to get a couple of lighters and tow the rest, because it’s drawing
all the water there is in the river already; stick to facts–just stick
to the cold facts; what these gentlemen want for a book is the frozen truth–
ain’t that so, gentlemen?’ He explained privately that it was necessary
to watch this man all the time, and keep him within bounds; it would
not do to neglect this precaution, as he, Mr. H., ‘knew to his sorrow.’
Said he, ‘I will not deceive you; he told me such a monstrous lie once,
that it swelled my left ear up, and spread it so that I was actually not able
to see out around it; it remained so for months, and people came miles to see
me fan myself with it.’
Chapter 35
Vicksburg During the Trouble
WE used to plow past the lofty hill-city, Vicksburg, down-stream;
but we cannot do that now. A cut-off has made a country town of it,
like Osceola, St. Genevieve, and several others. There is
currentless water–also a big island–in front of Vicksburg now.
You come down the river the other side of the island,
then turn and come up to the town; that is, in high water:
in low water you can’t come up, but must land some distance below it.