’And now they neared their journey’s end.
On the sixth of April, the river divided itself into
three broad channels. La Salle followed that
of the west, and D’Autray that of the east; while
Tonty took the middle passage. As he drifted
down the turbid current, between the low and marshy
shores, the brackish water changed to brine, and the
breeze grew fresh with the salt breath of the sea.
Then the broad bosom of the great Gulf opened on his
sight, tossing its restless billows, limitless, voiceless,
lonely as when born of chaos, without a sail, without
a sign of life.’
Then, on a spot of solid ground, La Salle reared a
column ’bearing the arms of France; the Frenchmen
were mustered under arms; and while the New England
Indians and their squaws looked on in wondering silence,
they chanted the Te DEUM, the EXAUDIAT, and
the Domine SALVUM FAC REGEM.’
Then, whilst the musketry volleyed and rejoicing shouts
burst forth, the victorious discoverer planted the
column, and made proclamation in a loud voice, taking
formal possession of the river and the vast countries
watered by it, in the name of the King. The column
bore this inscription—
Louis Le Grand, Roy de France
et de Navarre, REGNE; Le NEUVIEME
Avril, 1682.
New Orleans intended to fittingly celebrate, this
present year, the bicentennial anniversary of this
illustrious event; but when the time came, all her
energies and surplus money were required in other
directions, for the flood was upon the land then, making
havoc and devastation everywhere.
All day we swung along down the river, and had
the stream almost wholly to ourselves. Formerly,
at such a stage of the water, we should have passed
acres of lumber rafts, and dozens of big coal barges;
also occasional little trading-scows, peddling along
from farm to farm, with the peddler’s family
on board; possibly, a random scow, bearing a humble
Hamlet and Co. on an itinerant dramatic trip.
But these were all absent. Far along in the
day, we saw one steamboat; just one, and no more.
She was lying at rest in the shade, within the wooded
mouth of the Obion River. The spy-glass revealed
the fact that she was named for me —or
he was named for me, whichever you prefer.
As this was the first time I had ever encountered
this species of honor, it seems excusable to mention
it, and at the same time call the attention of the
authorities to the tardiness of my recognition of
it.
Noted a big change in the river, at Island 21.
It was a very large island, and used to be out toward
mid-stream; but it is joined fast to the main shore
now, and has retired from business as an island.
