The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1877-09-05
The Dismal Swamp.

at last you reach Lake Drum.
mond, and it opens to your gaze like
the raising of the curtain of a thea.
tire or tableaux. If God has ever
made a fairer sheet of water, it is
yet hid from gaze and mortal ken.
It sets in the very centre of the
great swamp, pure, undehled and
fresh; it's waters, whether at rest in
a placid repose, or stirred by the
winds, always wear rich, ruby hue
that CLEANS like gold in the sun
shine. Hill away in the midst of an
inaccessible swamp this lonely lake
seems to dream away its life, and
one can almost believe that it was
conceived by Jove himself and made
for the chaste Diana to battle in.
away from all the haunts of men.
1t is novel, weird and strange
scene, the stretch of water looming
all around, for Lake Drummond is
seven miles long by five wide, oval
in shape, and it looks larger than it
really is. No sails cleaning on the
waters set of the dark back ground;
no long slender cloud of smoke dark
ems the horizon, showing where the
swift steamer pursues its way; not
even a pungy or tiny skif can be
seen; only the calm, still lake, radi
ant in its solitary beauty. Hid
away, as it is, and bearing on its
bosom no argosies of commerce, the
lake, as contrasted with the Dismal
Swamp, is a jewel in a toad's head,
an oasis in the desert, a precious di-
adem in miser's chest. There is a
tradition that before the colonj al
times an Indian warrior dared to
love the daughter of his chief, who,
like many white fathers, raised the
mischief because the young man
couldn't show up more wealth than
a pair of strong arms and brave
heart. No ponies, no blankets. no
nothing. The warrior having won
the maiden's heart, gained her list
ening ear, and persuaded her to run
of to lake which he had found in a
swamp, and live and die together
Both left, and futile was the pursuit.
and they were given over as dead,
until may years after they were
seen together to cross the lake in a
canoe. Tradition further tells us
that the Great Spirit was so pleased
with the rare devotion and love dis
played that he allows them to return
to earth occasionally as great mark
of his favor, and to linger in the
scene of their happiness.
l beheld Lake Drummond at twi-
light, and watched the night closing
in, the shadows on the water deepen,
and the lofty woods that girded it
around grow denser and darker
Then the stars in the sky stole out
one by one, each reproduced by the
rejecting lake. The firefies came
out from the woods in myriads and
made the waters luminous. There
was light everywhere, the darkness
was dissolved by the million fitful
flashes Of the insects miniature lam
terms, and the air, the lake, the very
water itself seemed ablaze. In this
lllusory glare Imagination with it's
potent power made phantoms actual
realities. Here passing huge log
submerged with its skeleton branch.
es standing upright in the air you
could swear it was a graceful ship
swinging lazily at anchor. Then as
the great horrid OWLS hoarse discor-
dant boot floated across the lake,
mel'owed in the distance, it sounded
for all the world like the voice
of the sailor giving orders or the
cry of - the boatswain piping to
quarters.
At last as I turned to go saw, or
thought l saw, as clearly as I ever
beheld anything in my life, a white
canoe pass in my front, and as the
memory of the tradition came to my
mind l tried to follow the spectral
boat across the star-lit and fire-lit
lake. II was gone, and again and
yet again it came, and in the evanes-
cent beams it was lost.
If the legend isn't true it ought to
be. Moore has rendered it IMMORTAL
by his genius, and as I watched
and waited, half hoping, half-fear-
ing that I might see what mortal
eyes had never beheld, l caught my
self grooming over the old couplet
so perfectly in keeping with tho
scene: