The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1883-03-28
" o boatinan, wind that horn ays,p
Tor never did the listening air
Upon Its lainbcnt bosom bear
So wild, SO soft. 90 sweet a strain.n


o boatnan, wind that horn ags,p
For never did the listening ait
Upon Its lalnbent bosom bear
So wild, 50 soft, 90 sweet strain"
will long hold its place among the gemsr
OF American poetry. But the days wren
the only means Of transportation on III
great Western rivers was the Aatboat
have passed away. 1t may almost he
said to be thing of the past, and hepcs
the fine flavor of General Buffers poem
is lost to great degree to generation
who only know of it by tradition.
A voyage from Pittsburg to New Or
leans by hatboat was an enterprise once
of greater peril than tour around the
world is now. 1t was certain TO be full of
adventure. 1t required months for its
accomplishment A shot from the shore
by some Indian or reckless desperate
might terminate abruptly the voyage and
The lives of the navigators in blood. A
moments neglect of the steersman might
wreck the unshapely craft and all the
hopes of it's owners, hundreds of miles
from home and in an inhospitable wilder
ness There was danger everywhere-in
the currents. eddies, whirlpools, bayous
and snags of the tortuous Father Of
Waters; but there was no less danger
from the half civilized dwellers Oh the
banks. The outlawed criminals and the
desperate adventurefs from civilization
skulked along the shores, or prowled
With light canoes among the bayous and
creeks watching for chances to plunder,
even If murder was necessary to aid them.
A ilatboat voyage down the great rivers
was periolis enough from natural causes,
even if mans inhumanity to man had not
increased the peril. In those days the
government had not thought of snag-
boats, and the Mississippi was full Of half
hidden dangers. The current was con-
st.,ntly changing. 1t was easy to be de-
ceived into an old channel from which
there was no return. Bayous were often
traps-watery misunderstanding no.
where but to ruin. The organized river
pirates and wreckers were always on the
lookout for unwary voyagers, 80 that n
slight mishap generally ended in COM
plete disaster. Ii, under such circum-
stances, the flatboatman reached his dis
tant home, footsore and wearybut penni-
less, months after leaving it, he was
lucky. In the early days of fatboating
safe return, even when the venture had
not proven financially profitable, was a
grand event, and the occasion of tumult-
uous Joy. The business bred special
class who sought it for its adventure and
dangers as much as for its profits. The
river pirates met in the natboatman of
that early day class ready, eager and
willing for the fray--a class which, like
the rancheros of the plains, accounted q
trip tame and spiritless if unattended
with danger. They were rough and
ready, careless and care-free. Dreamily
floating slowly down the Ohio. they
whiled awaywith song and dance the lazy
hours Tho boatman's horn walked the
echoes from distant hills more musical
than steamboat whistle or that ear-dis-
tracing horror, the calliope. 1t was q
romantic life, BETTING the grand scenery
and rude time. Ninety days and a slow
moving hatboat, the scenery constantly
changing but ever wild and beautiful
was thing never to be forgotten. Thu
spice of danger in it only gave it zest
An occasional adventure with rive
sharks only relieved monotony and ad
ded interest. t.-Indimapotis Journal.