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IWACMCBCOtacaON
VOLUME XLII—NU.tot SEVENTEEN.
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Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending June 25, 1904,
50c PER YEAR—SINGLE COPY 5c.
*
Curious,
Quaint Life ^ Fine Prosperity
^ one Famous “R.ed River”
Along'
*
• 4-#4-#-S-#-f#4-#-!-#-f-#4#4-#-J-#-S-#-l-#-|-#
By HELEN HARCOURT.
Written .'or E5*<? 'annjr Coorj
HE encyclopedias name as
the three most important
"red rivers” of the world,
the stream known by
that designation which
trails through China, ris
ing in the southwestern
part of that empire, and
terminating in the gulf of
TongklnjJ; the Red river of
Canada, the same which
the earl of Selkirk in the
early part of the century
made vast endeavor to col
onize; and the river of tTTh great raft,
which rises in the staked plains of Texas,
in the panhandle region of that state,
flows through Indian Territory and Lou
isiana, southeasterly; and when some
1,550 miles from where It begins, ming
ling with the waters of the great father
of streajns.
Naturally these rivers are so named
because of t'*> color of their waters. The
Red river of Louisiana is by far the
longest and to us the most important of
the three. It flows through an alluvial
region which can claim no rival in fer
tility—the great Red river valley, which
but awaits the thousands of emigrants
that are destined to settle it.
In ante helium days, when there were
no railroads running through the valley,
beautiful steamboats plied the river and
were patronized by the rich planters and
their families, who came from far and
near to embark at Shreveport and other
places along the way, for the Cresceflt
City. Shreveport in those days, as It is
The Red River, Where it Makes Its Famous Bend at Shreveport.
to remove the raft. The river was so
congested that one could walk for miles
bn logs as though on terra,<drma; and
where there were deposits i^uaarth on
weeds.x< JJ, even f ?1”
Finally the "gigantic i
become famed
tree removed;
between
years In the;
steam ^ars whistle along both
■M at the stream and the “Red, River
Line’’ has supremacy on the waters
As a nerve tonic, few thing; are the
equal of a trip on a southern steamboat.
Charmingly pTdturesquei is the mode
of travel In the south, which shows a
phase of life to be found nowhere else
in the world.
I On dn afternoon In May. last, the
riuic ste&meijfJeolTa, captatned by .or'
tr/xA-has fa^^half ceqUuy traveled tniji
— rHrer, pnKraf off' rrom Ker wharf at New
Orleans. The great - scJuth is well exem-
on “No Man’s Land,” thus escaping the
dreaded tax office.
Their rickety shanties, are built on
tilts. ., When the /river Is hjxh, the,.
Rouge.
sugar
S r °vep.
Here are the magnificent old
irdens, an
Orleans, me great south is wen exem-, jEj-gnjUt yoo'caye
pllfted In the push and progress that x ' IwiV give you a hel
him-C
moment
heels, bi
effect stll
Ittle? v?g-
ls to be noted from the deck of
steamer moving away’ from this port.
Ships from every clime are here. The
great floating dry-dock at Algiers, sec
ond largest in the world, attracts the
eye. The St. Louis cathedral and the
Cabildo, where the signing away of
the Immense Louisiana territory took
place, fade away as you smile at the
habitations of the “batture-folk,” a
queer people, who live outside the levee.
mof f ! t ^° met J[eray. tray.
Imr ~“|s, one ot
The Electra,
.fled with two lm* W'f.y.ti “(s
^either side of hefjju rofege^t-heavlly
laden with bales wjj^jaaiT flora of cot
ton seed, boxes / ot ki itr&etmmmfie, and
other commodities. It was amusing to
watch the unwilling cattle come aboard.
Our way until we .entered the noble
Red was along the "golden coast" of
'he Mississippi river, which extends from
relow New Orleans to Just beyond Baton
many
Ing ther«S__
from the town of Hfeiitecastle, a neat
Kittle settlement', of ] houses built around
a lofty old mansion. This•.is “Indian
Canjp,” the Louisiana State Leper
home, a home for the living dead. Ba
ton Rouge Is passed, a smiling city on
top of a bluff, showing a unique capitol
building and a profusion of greenery.
Nothing could have been prettier than
the picture we had by searchlight of the
entrance to Red river. The firmament
was brilliant with stars. On one ’side
of us was the Louisiana convict home.
a blaze of light. Two fine steamers, elec
trically lighted, were heading up the
great stream, one bound for St. Louis.
It was within a few miles of here that
the body of DeSoto Was consigned to
its watery grave.
The most beautiful scenery on the Red
river is in the vicinity of its mouth. The
entrances of the lovely Quichata, the
Black, and the turbudent Achafalaya.
which the government has been obliged
to take in hand, looked enchantment by
searchlight. Where the Black and Red
rivers meet the color line is distinctly
noticeable. Miles and miles of magnifi
cent tree-clad banks are passed.
At Grand Ecore. which was reached the
next day, is a fine new bridge. The bluffs
here are the highest on the river. A
pretty legend is told regarding these
bluffs.
A PRETTY LEGEND.
About 5 miles from Grand Ecore is
Natchitoches, the oldest town in the Lou
isiana territory. It stands on. Cane river,
a deserted canal of the Red river, in a
little French graveyard in the center of
the town is the grave of an Indian prin
cess. She had thought herself married
to a Spanish officer. When he was about
to embark for Spain he told her the mar
riage had been only a mock one. Not a
word said the princess, but hastening to
the beautiful bluffs at Grand Ecore. there
abided her time. As the ship bearing her
recreant lover passed down stream, before
his cowering gaze, she sprang into the
waters. Her body was rescued, and the
historic society of Natchitoches has re
cently voted to take charge of the fast
vanishing grave.
In contrast.to this story^is one wherein
[ 1* made# when tile ca-
lady ttells nim she has changed
her mind; she could never marry a man
who would do such a “fool thing” as
that.
Once Red rlveij boasted a woman cap
tain, who also dfd the piloting of her
craft. One of her daughters acted as
chief clerk, and another ran the bar.
Cotton and porn are the crop products
along the Red river. Most of the big
plantations are leased out or worked by
CONTINUED ON LAST PA£E.
Ufye Biography of a Beaver ^
By W. D. Hulbert
Third of the Outdoor iSeries
m
BROAD, flat tall came
down on the water with a
whack that sent the echoes
flying back and forth
across the pond, and its
owner ducked and dived to
the bottom. In a moment
his little brown head reap
peared, and he and his
brothers and sisters went
chasing each other around
and around the pond,
ducking and diving and
splashing, raising such a
commotion that they sent the ripples
washing all along the grassy shores, and
having the jolliest kind of a time.
The city in which the tail first made
its appearance was a very ancient one,
and may have been the oldest town on
the North American continent. Genera
tion after generation of beavers had
worked on that dam, building It a little
higher and a little higher, a little longer
and a little longer, year after year; and
raising their lodges as the pond rose
around them. Theirs was a maritime
city, for most of its streets were of wa
ter, like those of Venice; rich cargoes
of food stuffs came floating to its very
doors, and they themselves were naviga
tors from their earliest youth. They
were lumbermen, too, and when the
timber was all cut from along the shores
of the pond, they dug canals across the
low, level, marshy ground, back to the
higher land where the birch and the pop
lar still grew, and floated .the branches
and the smaller logs down the artificial
waterways. And there were land roads,
as well as canals, for here and there
narrow trails crossed the swamp, show
ing where generations of busy workers
had passed back and forth between the
felled tree and the water’s edge. Streets,
canals, public works, dwellings, commerce
and lumbering, rich stores laid up for
the win ter--what more do you want to
constitute a city, even if the houses
are few in number and the population
somewhat smaller than that of London
and New York?
And so It was when our Beaver came
into the world.
The first year of his life was an easy
one, especially the winter, when there
was little for anyone to do ekeept to eat,
to sleep and now and then to fish for
the roots of the yellow water lily in
the soft mud at the bottom of the pond.
During that season he probably accom
plished more than his parents did. for
if he could not toil he could at least
grow.
But one black November night our
°ro’s father, the wisest old beaver in all
•* t wn. went out to his work and
never came home again. A trapper had
found the city—a scientific trapper who
had studied his profession for years, and
who knew just how to go to work. He
kept away from the lodges as long as he
could, so as not to frighten anyone; and
before he set a single trap he looked
the ground over very carefully, located
the different trails that ran back from
the water’s edge toward the timber, vis
ited the stumps oT the felled trees, and
paid particular attention to the tooth-
marks on the chips. No two beavers
leave marks that are exactly alike. The
teeth of one are flatter or rounded room
than those of another, while*a third,has
laTge or small nicks in the edges of his
yellow chisels; and eajch tooth leaves Its
own peculiar signature behind it. By not
ing all these things the trapper concluded
^lat a particular runaway in the wet,
grassy margin of the pond was the one
bv which a certain old -beaver always left
the water in going to his night’s labor.
That beaver, he decided, would best he
• the first one taken, for he was probably
the head of a family, and an elderly
person of much .wisdom and experience
and if one of his children should be
caught first he might become alarmed
and take the lead in a general exodus.
So the trapper set a heavy douhie-
spring trap in the edge of the water at
the foot of the runway, and covered it
with a thin sheet of moss. And that night,
as the old beaver came swimming up
the shore he put his foot down where
he shouldn’t, and two steel jaws flew up
and clasped him around the thigh. He
had felt that grip before. Was not half
of his right hand gone, and tnree toes
from his left hind foot? But this wa3 a far
more serious matter than either of tnose
adventures. It was not a hand that was
caught this time, nor yet a toe, or.;toes.
It was his right hind leg, well up toward
his body, and the strongest beaver that
ever lived could not have pulled himself
free. Now, when a beaver is frightened
he, of course, makes for deep water.
There, he thinks, no enemy can follow
him; and, what is more, it is the highway
to his lodge and to the burrow that he
has hollowed in the bank for a refuge in
case his house should he attacked. So
this beaver turned and jumped back into
the water the way he had come; but,
alas: he took his enemy with Kim. The
heavy trap dragged him to the bottom
like a stone, and the short chain fastened
to a stake kept him from going very far
toward home. For a few minutes he
struggled with all his might, and the soft
black mud rose about him In inky clouds.
Then he quieted down and lay very, very
still; and the next day the trapper came
along and pulled him out by tne chain.
Something else happened the same
I.#*.#*
night. Another wise old beaver, the head
man of another lodge, was killed by a
falling tree. I suppose that he had felled
hundreds of trees and bushes, big and lit
tle, in the course of his life,'and he nad
never yet met with an accident; but this
time he thought he would take one more
bite after the tree had really begun to >’ *jhlm to reach water deep enough to drown
i f 'fihn:' r b
alLaway, and the woods smelled as sweet
and £lean as if God had just made them
over q£W. And on this night, of all others,
tj» b/aVer put his hand squarely into a
•steel trap.
’He was in a shallow portion of the
ypond, an’d the chain was too short for
fall. He tried to draw back, but It wa»
too late, his skull crashed in ( and his life
went out like a candle. J
And so, in a few hours, the city lost two
of its best citizens—the very two whom
it could least afford to lose. If they had
been spared they might, -perhaps, nave
known enough to scent the coming dan
ger, and to lead their families and neigh
bors away from the doomed town, deeper
Into the heart of the wilderness. As It
was. the trapper had tnings all ms own
way, and by working caretuily and cau
tiously he added skin after slttB to his
store of beaver pelts. - . -
One night the beaver bltnseK tame
swimming down the pond, homeward
bound, and as he dived and approached
the submarine entrance of the- ledge he
noticed same stakes driven into the mmj
—stakes th^t had never been there heror^ beaver had found one, and the otter the
They seemed to form two roWs, one od, Bother.
a: ’’but now a new danger appeared,
for there on the low,- mossy bank was
an otter, glaring at him through the
darkness. Beaver meat makes a very
acceptable meal ror an otter, and the
beaver knew it. And he knew, also,
how utterly heloless he was, either to
fly or to resist, with that heavy trap on
his arm, and its chain binding him to
the stake. His heart sank like lead,
and he trembled from his nose to the
end of his tail, and whimpered, and
cried like a’baby. But, strand'll-to say.
It was the trapper who s&wch him,
though, <>f course, it was done quite un
intentionally Am the otJter advanced
to the attack there came a sudden
sharp click and in another second he too
was struggling for dear life. Two traps
had b*en set in the shallow water. The
each fide of his course, bat as them was
room enough for him to pau between
them he swam straight ahead -without
stopping. His hands bad ho webs be- -
tween the fingers., and were of little nab
in swimming, so he had folded them
back against him body; but his big feet
were washing like the wheels of a twin
screw btearner. And he waa forging along-,
at a gfeat rate. Suddenly, half wdy down,
the lines of stakes, his breast touched
the pan of a steel trap, and the jaws flew
up quick as a.wing and strong as a vide.
Fortunately there waa nothing tftbt they
could take hold of. Thfey struck, him so
hard that they liftefcbim bodlly upwaro^
but they caught only a tew halm.
A week later he was really caught
his right hand, and met with one of u*
most thrilling adventures of ids life, on
but that was a glorious night! Dark a*\.
a pocket, go wind, thick fifcck clouds
overhead and the rain oomlngr down in T
steady, steady drissle—just the Jtind of i
bight that the heave** Jove, when
friendly darkness shuts theif. little c
from 1h0> rest of ther world, and
they feel ‘safe and secure. The*,
the long yellow teeth gouge and
the tough wood,-how the trees con
bllng down, and how the branches'
the Iktle logs come hurrying in to'iiu
ment the winter food Pile! often or i
the beaver ..Led noticed - an unple
odor ‘along /the shores, „ an -od<$-
frightened him end made him very
faasy,> but tonight the rain had washed
The full story of that night with all its
details of fear nd suffering and pain,
Will never be written; and probably it
is as well that it should not be. But I
can giver you a few of the facts, if you
qare to hear them. The beaver soon
Fqpmd that he was out of the otter’s
ch, and with his fears relieved on
point he set to work to free him-
f v/fom the trap. Round and round
twisted, ♦HI there came a little snap,
1 .the bone of his arm broke short off
Lthe^teel jaws. Then for a long, long
tie he pulled and pulled With all his
fight, and av last'the tough skin was
apart, and th* muscles and sinews
s torn out by the roots. His right
was gone, and he was so weak and
iiht that it seemed as If all the strength
life of his whole body had gone
ftth it. No matter. He was free, and
£jswam away to the nearest burrow
’ l lay down to rest. The otter tried
do the same, but he was caught by
'thick of his thigh, and his case was
Ijtopeless one. Next day the trapper
him alive, but very# meek and
worn out with fear and useless
gles. In the other- trap were a
er’s hand and some long shreds of
and sinew that must once have
well up into the shoulder,
time the beaver’s wound was
-nature was good to him and the
m grew over the t^rn stump—
d was covered with ice. The
only half as numerous as they
had been a few weeks before, kept close
in their lodges and burrows, and for a
time they lived in peace and quiet, and
their numbers suffered no further di
minution. Then the trapper took to set
ting his traps through the Ice, and be
fore long matters were worse than ever.
By spring the few beavers that remained
were so thoroughly frightened that the
ancient town was again abandoned—this
time forever. The lodges fell to ruin, the
burrows caved in, the dam gave way,
the ponds and canals were drained, ami
that was the end of the city. The
beaver got married about the time he
left his old home; and this, by the way,
is a very good thing to do when you
want to start a new town. Except for
his missing hand, his wife was so like
him that it would have puzzled you to
tell which was which. They measured
about ^fhree feet six Inches from tip of
nose to tip of tall, and they weighed
perhaps thirty pounds apiece. Their
bodies were heavy and clumsy and were
covered with thick, soft, grayish under
fur, which in turn was overlaid with lon
ger hairs of a glistening chestnut brown,
making a coat that was thoroughly wa
terproof as well as very beautiful. Their
heads were somewhat like those of gi
gantic rats, with small, light brown eyes,
Uttle round ears covered with hair and
long orange colored incisors looking out
from between parted lips.
They wandered about for some time,
looking for a suitable location, and ex
amining several spots along the beds of
various little rivers, none of which seem
ed to be Just right. But at last they
found, in the very heart of the wilder
ness, a place where a shallow stream
ran over a hard stony bottom, and here
they set to work. It was a very desir
able situation In every respect. At one
slue stood a large tree, so close that it
could probably be used as a buttress for
the dam when the latter was sufficiently
lengthened to reach it; while above the
shallow the ground was low and flat on
both sides for some distance back from
the banks, so that the pond would have
plenty of room to spread out.
The first year the beavers did not try
to raise the stream more than a foot
above its original le\el. There was much
other work to be done—a house Xo be
built, and food to be laid in for the win
ter—and if they spent too much time on
the dam they might freeze or starve be
fore spring. A few rods up-stream was
a grassy point which the rising waters
had transformed into an island, and here
tney built their lodge, a hollow mound of
sticks and mud, with a small, cave-like
chamber in the center, from which two
tunnels led out under the pond—“angles,”
the trarrers call them. The walls were
masses of tarth and wood and'stones, so
thick and solid that even a man with an
ax would have found ?t difficult to pen
etrate them. Only at the very apex of
the mound there was no mud, nothing
but tangled sticks through which a breath
of fresh air found its way now and then.
The floor was only two or three inches
above the level of the wat^r in the angles
and would naturally have been a bed of
mud. but they mixed little twigs with it,
and stamped and pounded it down till it
was hard and smooth. I think likely the
beaveffs tail had something to do with
this part of the work, as well as with
finishing off the dam. for he was fond
of slapping things with it, and it was just
the right shape for such use. In fact,
I fear that if it had not been for the
tail and for other tails like it. neither
of the cities would ever have been as
complete as th*y were. With the ends
of projecting sticks cut off to leave the
walls even and regular and with long
grass carried in to make the beds, the
lodge trkfc finished and ready.
And now you might have seen the
beavers coming home to rest after a
night's labor at felling timber—swimming
across the pond toward the island, with
only the tops of their two little heads
showing above the water. In front of
the lodge each tail rudder gives a slap
and a twist and they dive for the sub
marine door of one of the angles. In
another second they are swimming along
the dark, narrow tunnel, making the
water surge around them. Suddenly the
roof of the passage rises, and their heads
pop up into the air. A yard or two far
ther, and they enter the chamber ot* the
l<«lge, with its level floor and its low,
arched roof. And there in the darkness
they lie down on their grass beds and go
to sleep. It is good to have a home of
your own, where you may take your
ease wben the night’s work Is done.
Near the upper end of the pond, where
the bank was higher, they dug a long
burrow, running back ten or fifteen
feet to the ground. This was to be the
last resort if, by any possibility, the
lodge should ever be invaded. It was
a weary task, digging that burrow, for
its mouth was deep under the water, and
every few minutes they had to stop work
and come to the surface for breath. Night
after night they scooped and shovelled,
rushing the job as fast as they knew
how. but making pretty slow progress in
spite of all their efforts. It was done
at last, however, and they felt easier in
their minds when they knew that it was
ready for use in case of necessity. From
its mouth in the depths of the pond it
CONTINUED^ON^LAST PAGE.
MM-« . IMiMigWiffWWi
