Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1886-01-22
~ THE LOUISIANA MARSHES.

slow, muddy bayou creeping sluggishly
away between thick walls of reeds on either
hand-a sullen stream, colored livid brown,
with a sneaking fashion of stealing past the
walls of coarse ''cut weeds" hedging il in
without even a whisper, as if it Stunned at
ttntiOn, and wished that the unclean reptiles
that sprawled iu the slime of its turbid depths
should not be known of. The torrid sun
made it almost tepid, so that if one dipped
into 1t there was none of the refreshing cool
ness of water perceptible. Ciumps of will
lows grew on its banks in whose 1.-THE bouphs
swarms of dingy blackbirds rocked, with
loud, confused and clamorng chorus, sweep
ingsuddenly aud altogether to adjacent clus-
ters when disturbed, with a thick fash of
isme-like red and orange amid their pslp-
tant wings and loud vociferatous of their
shrieking, "Okallee okdllee :"
All along the low level lands lying between
horizon Of purple forests were vast fields
Of sugar-cane matted thick together an i'm
penetrable jungle Of striped stalks tangled
with long dried sword like leaves, and bear
ing their straight green plumes erect, so that
the great parallelogram fields were smooth
seas Of verdure through which the breezes
sighed with whisper as of water swaying
The rich alluvial earth brought forth with
tropical luxuriance to the caresses OF the sud.
den, tempestuous, daily rains and the fierce
hihbio VI AhN august huuef Tue RIthl buCCu-
lent plants grew more than an inch day
and in the still, warm nights was to be heard
IN all their dim expanse stealthy cracking,
as II Of the loosenng of tibres.
The long buildings where the crops were
manufactured into merchantable article
were empty and silent now, dark within,
with faint fermented alcoholic Odors and an
atmosphere of desertion.
Little Africans in short blue cotton aprons
ran aud tumbled about in the dust of the
quarters with the yellow dogs, their round
black legs always bowed, their tightly knot.
ted wool burned a rusty red by the sun.
The men were away in the deep cypress
swamps, where the great guant trees stand in
the black and stagnant water their lofty
heads, with scant, sad foliage, swsthed and
veiled in long cerements of ashen colored
moss that hung straight and lifeless without
movement, and their roots lifted up every
where, as though they struggled madly,
loathingly, to be free, and to lift themselves
out of the dark water teeming with unac-
countable reptile life that writhed aud slipped
about their feet.
The meridional sun glared in a white sky,
and one breathed the air with difficulty SO
saturated was it with moisture that rose like
steam out of the ground. Down the bayou
came slowly and silently noiseless shadow
gray sail aud mast ouy WAS to be seen, but
below il was boat with a man at the tiller.
The boat passed. for the most part, without
sound, except for slight tack sometimes to
catch the fitful breeze, which was hardly
more than breath, and then it crashed with
a loud swish swish among the brittle
rushes. At the bridges the sail was lowered,
the mast unstepped, and it gided for a mo-
ment dark and cool, among the brown tim
bers, and where one could see the fexile
friDged duck grass sway beneath.
The man at the rudder was old his hair
was harsh aud gray his skin coored by
wind and sun, almost mahogany in tint, was
curiously covered with wrinkles almost as il
a spider had woven an intricate web over his
face, and it had a strange, disused look which
favored the fancy. The features were strong
and aquiline, aud the eyes burned beneath
the dark brows as If looking through the
holes in a mask. His hand upon the tiler
had nearly lost human semblance, aud seemed
more like the paw of some animal He was
deeply inhamed in drink, though he instinct.
lively guided his craft Alright, and a brown
earthen jug lay between his bare feet.
II the negroes had not been in the swamp
they would have seen and known the gray
sail creeping by as that of Old Louis, who
came up the bayou once week in winter
with oysters, in summer with empty boat,
but always returning with the earthen jug
full, and the owner fierce with drink. No
one could tell how long he had been doing
this, "Dont know how long Old Louis been
a. a.oomn'. Senee way back long fore Reb'
times" But all the year it was thus. No
one knew where he lived or how. He CROPPED
in the bays for oysters, and when his tale
was filled crept laboIiously through the passes
between the marshes, and up to the planta-
tions to sell his find. In summer he sold his
fish to the cruising boats, and came with the
scaDty gains to the low Rroggery where
brilliant caliooes, bandana handkeTchiefs
and wretched whiskey we're sold TO the ne.
grOes.
To-day, as he worked his way downward
TO the sea, he muttered hercely to himself, as
was bis wont when in his cups, "lnO pas
cOuhiaS Qui a JdF B-MO pas cOuAins risn de
| Ca" over and over in French, and then,
louder, in English. II don't know nuthin'
tall bout i'll don't know who done dat"
He would start at times, with a sudden sharp
movement OF fear, at the tumultuous cries Of
| the blackbirds or the crash OF the boat amid
the reeds. lie was more nervous than usual,
and seemed to see phantom faces in the will
| low trees that bent over the stream they
had long slender arms that might seize him,
he thought, If he sleered too near the bank,