By JACQUES W. REDWAY.

Introduction

The purport of the following paper is to show that corrosion of its banks and deposition of sediment constitute the legitimate business of a river. If the bed of the Mississippi were of adamant, and its drainage slopes were armored with chilled steel, its current would do just what it has been doing in past ages - wear them away, and fill the Gulf of Mexico with the detritus.

Many thoughts were suggested by Mr. S.C. Clemens, erstwhile a Mississippi pilot, and by Mr. D.A. Curtis. Both of these gentlemen know the river.

General Geography

The Mississippi River, as ordinarily regarded, has its head waters in a chain of lakes situated mainly in Beltrami and Cass counties, Minnesota. The lake most distant from the north is Elk Lake, so named in the official surveys of the U.S. Land Office. A short stream flows from Elk Lake to Lake Itaska, a beautiful sheet of water, considerably larger than Elk Lake. From Lake Itaska it flows in a general northeasterly direction, receiving the waters of innumerable springs and ponds, among them Lake Bemidji, a body of water equal in size to Lake Itaska. After a course of 135 miles the steam flows into Cass Lake, absorbing in the meantime the waters of another chain of lakes, discharged through Turtle River. From Cass Lake the waters flow a distance of twenty miles, and are poured into Lake Winnibigoshish. The latter has an area of eighty square miles; it is twice the size of Cass Lake and more than six times that of Lake Itaska. From Lake Winnibigoshish to the point where it receives the discharge of Leech Lake, the river flows through an open savannah, from a quarter of a mile to a mile in width. Forty miles beyond are Pokegama Falls. Here the river flows from Pokegama Lake, falling about fourteen feet before quiet water is reached.

All the country about the headwaters is densely wooded with Norway pine on the higher ground, and with birch, maple, poplar and tamarack on the lower ground. Between Pokegama Falls and the Falls of St. Anthony, the river receives the waters of a number of other similar streams, all flowing from the lake region.

At St. Paul the navigable stage of the river practically begins, although there is more or less navigable water above the falls at certain seasons. From St. Paul to Cairo the river flows between bluffs, the terraces of Champlain times, from ten to fifty miles apart. Between the bluffs are the bottom lands, often coincident with the flood plain, along which the river channel wanders in a devious course of 1,100 miles. The soil of the bottom lands is, of course, alluvial, and was deposited by the river during past ages; that beyond the bluffs is a part of the great intermontane plain, and is sedentary - that is, it has not been materially disturbed since the plain was raised above the sea level by the uplift of the continent.

From Cairo, at the junction of the Ohio River, the plain to the southward is nearly all made land, and in a few spots only does the river touch soil which it has not itself made. Here the Lower Mississippi proper begins, and here, at some not far distant time in the past,2 was the head of the Gulf of Mexico. A fuller description of the Lower Mississippi is unnecessary here, inasmuch as the following pages are mainly devoted to this part alone.

Historical

Nearly three and a half centuries have elapsed since De Soto, that prince among explorers, traversed the broad prairies that lie between the border highlands of the Western continent, and beheld the stream which watered the future empire of the world. His chroniclers tell us that he was raised to an upright position, so that he could catch a fleeting glimpse of the restless, turbulent flood; for even then the hand of death was upon him, and soon its waters were to enshroud his mortal remains. "His soldiers," says Bancroft, "pronounced his eulogy by grieving for their loss, and the priests chanted over his body the first requiems ever heard on the Mississippi. To conceal his death, his body was wrapped in a mantle, and, in the stillness of midnight, was silently sunk in the middle of the stream." Just across the river the Arkansas was pouring in its tumultuous flood, and its confluence was the site of the future town of Napoleon, which in coming years was to be historic ground.

Worn by suffering, hardships and peril, and racked by the pestilential fever that still hovers about the river lowlands, De Soto paid the debt of nature, and his thrice decimated followers made their way back to France. It seemed a strange, incredible story that they told, for such a mighty river, with its vast plain, was beyond conception. Its source, they said, was in the north - among the eternal snows - farther than it had ever been given to man to penetrate. Its waters, they thought, were poured into the Gulf of California, or perhaps into the great Virginia Sea. Its flood, they said, was so great that if all the rivers of Europe were gathered into one channel, they would not be a tithe as large. But the people who heard these wonderful accounts were unconcerned. The French monarch knew naught but to debauch his heritance; the French courtier intrigued and plundered; the French peasant, dogged and sullen in his long suffering, dragged out his miserable existence. The flood of waters rolled on, and a hundred and thirty years must come and go before the next white man should see the sheen of its rippling.

Let us cast a retrograde glance to the history of this period. It was only fifty years before that Columbus had dropped anchor off the coral reef of Samana Cay, and thrilled the Old World by announcing the discovery of the New. Elizabeth, the virgin Queen of England, was a proud, haughty girl just entering her teens, all unmindful of her eventful future. Mary Queen of the Scots was a tiny infant in swaddling clothes. The labors of Rafael Sanzio were still fresh in the memory of his surviving pupils. Michael Angelo was in the zenith of his fame, bending his energies to the beautifying of the great cathedral. Martin Luther was in the sere old age of his life, waiting for the command of the Master, which should bid him lay down his armor. A hundred years were to elapse before Charles I. of England must pay with his life the price of his folly.