University of Virginia Library

36. XXXVI.

Though not much given to theorising, I have
been drawn into some undigested remarks in my
last letter, upon a theory, which is beginning to
command the attention of scientific men, to which
the result of geological researches daily adds weight,
and to which time, with correct observations and
farther discoveries, must add the truth of demonstration.

This letter I will devote to a subject, naturally
arising from the preceding, perhaps not entirely
without interest—I mean the physical geography
and geology of this state. In the limits of a letter
it is impossible to treat this subject as the nature of
it demands, yet I will endeavour to go so far into its
detail, as to give you a tolerable idea of the general
features of the region.

Besides the cliffs, or great head-lands, alluded to
in my last letter, frowning, at long intervals, over
the Mississippi, serrated ridges, formed of continuous
hills projecting from these points, extend in various
directions over the state. These again branch
into lower ridges, which often terminate near the
river, between the great bluffs, leaving a flat space
from their base to the water, from a third of a mile
to a league in breadth. These flats, or “bottoms,”
as they are termed in western phraseology, are inundated
at the periodical floods, increasing, at those
places, the breadth of the river to the dimensions
of a lake. The forest-covered savana, nearly forty
miles across, through which the Mississippi flows,
and which is bordered by the mural high lands or
cliffs alluded to in my last letter, is also overflowed
at such seasons; so that the river then becomes, in
reality, the breadth of its valley. The grandeur of
such a spectacle as a river, forty miles in breadth,
descending to the ocean between banks of lofty
cliffs, too far distant to be within each other's horizon,
challenges a parallel. But, as this vast plain
is covered with a forest, the lower half of which
only is inundated, the width of the river remains
as usual to the eye of the spectator on the cliffs,
who will have to call in the aid of his imagination
to realize, that in the bosom of the vast forest outspread
beneath him rolls a river, to which, in breadth,
the noble stream before him is but a rivulet. The
interior hills, or ridges, mentioned above, are usually
covered with pine; which is found only on
such eminences, and in no other section of the south

or west, except an isolated wood in Missouri, for
more than fifteen hundred miles. The surface of
the whole state is thus diversified with hills, with
the exception of an occasional interval on the borders
of a stream, or a few leagues of prairie in the
north part of the state, covered with thin forests of
stunted oaks. These hills rise and fall in regular
undulations, clothed with forests of inconceivable
majesty, springing from a rich, black loam, peculiarly
fitted to the production of cotton; though, according
to a late writer on this plant, “it flourishes
with equal luxuriance in the black alluvial soil of
Alatamaha and in the glowing sands of St. Simon's.[10]

The general features of this state have suggested
the idea of an immense ploughed field, whose gigantic
furrows intersect each other at various angles.
—Imagine the hills, formed by these intersections,
clothed with verdure, whitened with cotton fields,
or covered with noble woods, with streams winding
along in the deep ravines, repeatedly turning back
upon their course, in their serpentine windings, before
they disembogue into the Mississippi on the
west, or the Pearl on the east, and you will have a
rude though generally correct idea of the bolder features
of this state.

A “plain,” or extensive level expanse, which is
not a marsh, forms, consequently, no part of its
scenery, hill and hollow being its stronger characteristics.
For a hilly country it presents one striking
peculiarity. The surface of the forests, viewed

from the bluffs, or from some superior elevation in
the interior, presents one uniform horizontal level,
with scarcely an undulation in the line to break the
perspective. Particularly is this observable about
a mile from Natchez, from the summit of a hill on
the road to the village of Washington. Here an
extensive forest scene lies east of the observer, to
appearance a perfect level. But as he travels over
hill and through ravine, anticipating a delightful
prairie to lie before him, over which he may pace,
(or canter, if he be a northerner) at his ease, he will
find that the promised plain, like the mirage before
the fainting Arabian, for ever eludes his path.

There is another remarkable feature in this country,
peculiar to the whole region through which the
lower Mississippi flows, which I can illustrate no
better than by resorting to the idea of a ploughed
field. As many of these intersecting furrows, or
ravines, terminate with the ridges that confine them,
near the river, with whose medium tides they are
nearly level, they are inundated by the periodical
effluxes, which, flowing up into the land, find a passage
through other furrows, and discharge into some
stream, that suddenly overflows its banks; or winding
sluggishly through the glens, cut deep channels
for themselves in the argillaceous soil, and through
a chain of ravines again unite with the Mississippi,
after having created, by their surplus waters, numerous
marshes along their borders, and leaving
around their course innumerable pools of stagnant
water, which become the home of the lazy alliga

tor,[11] and the countless water-fowls which inhabit
these regions. These inlets are properly bayous.
They radiate from the Mississippi, in the state of
Louisiana, in countless numbers, forming a net-work
of inlets along its banks for fifty miles on either side,
increasing in numbers and size near its mouth; so
that, for many leagues above it, an inextricable tissue
of lakes and inlets, or bayous, form communications
and passes from the river to the Gulf,[12] “accessible,”
says Flint, “by small vessels and baycraft,
and impossible to be navigated, except by pilots
perfectly acquainted with the waters.” The
entrance of some of these bayous, which are in the
vicinity of Natchez, is fortified against the effluxes
of the river by levées, constructed from one highland
to another; and by this means the bottom
lands in the rear are protected from the overflow,
and, when cultivated, produce fine crops of cotton.
Inundations are also caused when the Mississippi
is high, by its waters flowing up into the small rivers
and creeks, whose natural level is many feet
below the high water mark, till they find a level.—
The water of these streams is consequently forced
back upon itself, and, rising above its banks, overflows
all the adjacent country. This “back-water,”
as it is termed, is more difficult to be resisted by levées
than the effluxes of the bayous; and for the
want of some successful means of opposing its
force, some of the finest “bottom lands” in the state
remain uncultivated, and covered with water and
forest.

The smaller rivers and streams in this state are
wild and narrow torrents, wholly unlike those placid
streams which flow through New-England, lined
with grassy or rocky banks, and rolling over a stony
bottom, which can be discerned from many feet
above it, through the transparent fluid. Here the
banks of the streams are precipices, and entirely of
clay or sand, and cave in after every rain, which
suddenly raises these torrents many feet in a few
minutes; and such often is their impetuosity, that
if their banks are too high to be inundated, they cut
out new channels for themselves; and a planter

may, not improbably, in the morning after a heavy
rain, find an acre or more added to his fields from
an adjoining estate; to be repaid, in kind, after another
rain. In the dry season the water of these
streams—which, with the exception of three or four
of the large ones, are more properly conduits for the
rain water that falls upon the hills, than permanent
streams—is tolerably clear, though a transparent
sheet of water larger than a spring, whether in motion
or at rest, I have not seen in this state. After
a rain they become turbid, like the Mississippi, impetuous
in their course, and dangerous to travellers.
Few of these streams are covered with bridges, as
their banks dissolve, during a rain, almost as rapidly
as banks of snow—so light is the earth of which
they are composed—and the points from which
bridges would spring are soon washed away. The
streams are therefore usually forded; and as their
beds are of the finest sand, and abound in quicksands,
carriages and horses are often swallowed up
in fording them, and lives are not unfrequently lost.

The roads throughout the state, with the exception
of these fords, are very good, winding through
fine natural scenery, past cultivated fields, and pleasant
villages.

In the neighbourhood of these streams, on the
hills, and in the vales throughout the state, springs
of clear cold water abound. There is a deep spring
on the grounds attached to Jefferson College in this
state, whose water is so transparent, that to the eye,
the bottom appears to be reflected through no other
medium than the air. The water is of a very mild

temperature in the winter, and of an icy coolness
in the summer. The spring is in a deep glen, surrounded
by lofty trees, one of which, from its shape,
branching from the root into two trunks, and uniting
again in an extraordinary manner by a transverse
limb, thirty feet from the ground, is called
“St. Catharine's Harp,” and is one among the natural
curiosities of that vicinity. In the interior of
the state are several mineral springs, which of late
years have become very fashionable resorts for those
who do not choose, like the majority of Mississippians,
to spend their summers and money at the
Kentucky, Virginian, or New-York springs. The
waters of most of these springs are chalybeate, with
a large proportion of sulphuric acid combined with
the iron. The most celebrated are the Brandywine,
romantically situated in a deep glen in the interior
of the state, and the Bankston springs, two hour's
ride from the capital. The constituent qualities of
the waters, as ascertained by a recent chemical analysis,
are sulphate of magnesia, sulphate of soda
and sulphur, which exist in such a state of combination
as to render the waters not disagreeable to
the taste, yet sufficiently beneficial to the patient.
They are said to act favourably upon most of the
diseases of the climate, such as affections of the
liver, bowels, cutaneous and chronic diseases, congestive
and bilious fevers, debility, and numerous
other ills “that flesh is heir to.” The location is
highly romantic and healthy. In the words of another—“the
circumjacent country is for several
miles covered with forests, of which pine is the principal
growth; its surface is elevated and undulating,
entirely free from stagnant waters, and other local
causes of disease. The site of the springs is not
inferior in beauty to any spot in the southern country.
They are situated in a narrow plane, surrounded,
on one side by an almost perpendicular
bluff from which they flow, on the other, by a gentle
declivity, dividing itself into two twin ridges;
which, after describing a graceful curve, unite again
at a point on which stands the principal building,
one hundred feet in length, and on either of these
ridges, is built a row of new and comfortable apartments.
Through the centre of the grove, a path
leads from the principal building to the spring,
forming at all hours of the day, a delightful promenade.
The water at the fountain, is exceedingly
cool and exhilarating. A dome supported by neat
columns, rises above the fountain, which, with the
aid of the surrounding hills and overhanging forest,
renders it at all times impervious to the sun. The
roads, which during the summer season are always
good, communicate in various directions with Port
Gibson, Vicksburg, Jackson, Clinton, and Raymond,
affording at all times good society. The
forest abounds with deer and other game, the chase
of which will afford a healthy amusement to those
who may be tempted to join in it.”

The mineral waters in the state are chiefly sulphurous
and chalybeate, with the exception, I believe,
of one or two of the saline class.

In the vicinity of these springs, and also on most
of the water courses in the state, and, with but an

exception or two, in these places alone, are found
the only stones in the state. Rock is almost unknown.
I have not seen even a stone, within fifteen
miles of Natchez, larger than the third part of a
brick, and those that I have seen were found in the
pebbly bed of some stream. There is a stratum of
pebbles from one to three feet thick extending
through this state. It is variously waved, sometimes
in a plane, and at others forming various angles
of inclination, and at an irregular depth from
the surface, according to the thickness of the superimposed
masses of earth which are composed of
clay, loam, and sand. This stratum is penetrated
and torn up by the torrents, which strew their beds
with the pebbles. There is no rock except a species
of soft sand-stone south of latitude 32° north,
in this state, except in Bayou Pierre, (the stony
bayou) and a cliff at Grand Gulf, forty miles above
Natchez. This last is composed of common carbonate
of lime and silex, but the quantity of each
has not been accurately determined.

The sand-stone alluded to above, is in the intermediate
state between clay and stone, in which the
process of petrifaction is still in progress. In
the north-east portion of the state, this species of
stone, whose basis is clay, is found in a more matured
state of petrifaction. Perfect gravel is seldom
met with here, even in the stratum of pebbles before
mentioned. These resemble in properties and colour,
the clay so abundant in this region; a great
proportion of the gravel is composed of a petrifaction
of clay and minute shells, of the mollusca tribe.

I have found in the dry bed of the St. Catharine's,
pebbles, entirely composed of thousands of the most
delicately formed shells, some of which, of singularly
beautiful figures, I have not before met with. Concave
spiral cones, the regular discoid volute, cylinders,
a circular shell, a tenth of an inch in diameter,
formed by several concentric circles, and a delicate
shell formed by spiral whorls, with fragments of
various other minute shells, principally compose
them. The variety of shells in this state is very
limited. All that have been found here have their
surfaces covered with the smooth olive-green epidermis,
characteristic of fresh water shells, and are
all very much eroded. Agates of singular beauty
have also been discovered, and minute quartz crystals
are found imbedded in the cavities of pebbles
composed of alumina and grains of quartz. Mica
and feldspar I have not met with. About two years
ago, on the plantation of Robert Field, Esq. in the
vicinity of the white cliffs, a gentleman picked up
from the ground a large colourless rock crystal, with
six sided prisms and a pyramidal termination of
three faces. Curiosity led him to examine the spot,
and after digging a few minutes beneath the surface,
he found three more, of different sizes, two of
them nearly perfect crystals, but the third was an
irregular mass of colourless transparent quartz.
This is the only instance of the discovery of this
mineral in the state, and how these came to be on
that spot, which is entirely argillaceous and at a
great distance from any rocks or pebbles, is a problem.
Pure flint is not found in this state, yet the
plough-share turns up on some plantations, numerous
arrow-heads, formed of this material, and there
is also a species of stone, artificially formed, in size
and shape precisely resembling the common wedge
for cleaving wood, with the angles smoothly rounded.
They are found all over the south-western
country, and the negroes term them “thunder bolts;”
but wiser heads have sagely determined their origin
from the moon. Planters call them spear-heads,
for which they were probably constructed by the
aborigines. The stone of which they are made is
not found in this country. Some of them I believe
are composed of mica and quartz. Many of them
are a variety of the mica and of a brown colour,
sometimes inclining to green, and highly polished.
I have seen some on a plantation near Natchez, of
an iron black colour resembling polished pieces of
black marble.

The several strata which compose this state are
an upper layer of rich black loam from one to three
feet thick, the accumulation of centuries, and a second
stratum of clay several feet in thickness, beneath
which are various substrata of loam and sand,
similarto that which constitutes the islands and “bottoms”
of the Mississippi. With the exception of the
Yazoo, which flows through a delightful country rich
in soil and magnificent with forests, along whose
banks the Mississippians are opening a new theatre
for the accumulation of wealth, and where villages
spring up annually with the yearly harvest—
and the Pearl—a turbid and rapid torrent whose
banks are lined with fine plantations and beautiful

villages—this state boasts no rivers of any magnitude;
and these, when compared with the great Mississippi,
are but streams; and in their chief characteristics
they nearly resemble it.

But I have gone as far into geology as the limits
of a letter writer will permit. A volume might be
written upon the physical features of this country,
without exhausting a subject prolific in uncommon
interest, or half surveying a field, scarcely yet examined
by the geologist.[13]