The daily morning journal and courier., 1895-08-21

Tor half a mile without a break, the road-bed is laid on piles driven into the
 marshy land, and shorter culverts are
 of more frequent occurrence. Now be-
 low us appear the dark, forbidding
 skum-covered waters of a sluggish ba-
 you filled with dead logs and with the
 rugged, deformed roots of the cypress
 stretching their moss-covered forms up-
 ward until they unite in the straight well-formed trunk above From these
 Lethean wastes come the deep bass of
 their only inhabitants, the unnumbered
 host of frogs attuning in chorus a symphony at once soothing and discor-
 dant. The foliage is impervious to the vision, the dark green of the prevailing cypress mingling in solid walls with
 pendant vines and clinging parasites,
 coalescent with the masses of under-
 brush and smaller plants, giving one an 1 impression of passing through deep,
 emerald-lined gorge. Near the road
 bed, sometimes so close that they can
 almost be touched from the car win | dows as we rush along, are stretches of
 elder, their broad caps of snow-white forming a unit of purity which glows like strange specter in the ghostly
 moonlight. Luna's opalescent rays sift
 with coy uncertainty upon the circum- scribed landscape, refusing to force the locks of the verdant doors which con- ceal in lower depths secrets eternally dark, but whose Cimerian gloom is ever
 and anon punctured with point of phosphorescent light which marks the cratic course of the firefiy. Save the | unmelodious 'croaking of the frogs and | the monotonous "click-click'' of the wheels over the rails, no sound breaks
 the desert stiffness. Such is the scene ny and it's attendant conditions which force themselves upon the senses as we rush along, ever the same, ever chang ing. Thus we come to the station of Ci- calla
 l A frame dwelling of one-story and | probably half dozen rooms, erected on stilts above the swampy land surface, it | is connected with the railroad track by | means of an elevated plank walk, and with the earth ten feet below by a long flight of steps. At the rear, and con-
 nected with the first structure by a | railed walk, is another and smaller
 building, evidently used as a kitchen
 and dining-room. The residents of this l epitomized metropolis have not yet re- | tired, but are standing upon the narrow
 platform awaiting the advent of the ! train bringing their usual pouch of mail
 and a few articles of merchandise. The | men are bronzed, brawny-looking fel- | lows, while the buxom forms of the wo-
 men belle the commonly accepted mo- tions of miasna's sinister influence. | The space under the house is fenced
 up tightly from the ground to the sills,
 which was afterward explained by my companion. Not far from the house ap-
 pears the only semblance to cultiva- | ted field. A small square of low
 ground, enclosed by a fence of palings,
 aspires to the distinction of a garden. Its rows of vegetables bear evidence of
 a recent overflow, and the crop of weeds seems more abundant than that of the
 beans and potatoes. Lodged among the reeds at one side Is dug-out canoe, l which often serves for many successive months as the only means of locomo- | tion over the flooded district. Such is | Cicalla.
 Strange place that" I unused, half aloud, as the train sped on after its | brief stop. "But why is the space un- | der the house fenced up in such man. l ner?" asked my travelling companion, a gentleman well acquainted with the ! locality.
 l "That is stock preserve" he replied
 ''The cattle are secured within those l palisades every night, under lock and | key, to prevent the ravages of wild | beasts, which are still numerous in these parts They could not safely re main in the woods over night, and the
 mangled earcasses of many luckless 1 oxen show where they met their fate l Bears and wildcats are by no means uncommon, and deer and smaller game | still constitute this the favorite hunting ground of Memphis nimrods. Nume- l rous stories of fierce encounters with l the ferocious denizens of these wilds | are related by the people who live here | within a short distance of the Tennes-
 see metropolis. Only the other day I was told a thrilling adventure which ] happened near here, and if you wish to l listen I will repeat it."
 | When I signified my desire to hear the I story my friend proceeded:
 About ten days ago a poor journey
 man tailor, whom sha3 call Jones, be | cause I do not know his name, started to walk from Forrest City to Memphis l actuated by that migratory principle l which gives rise to our vast floating | population. The first night out he | spent under the hospitable roof of Cical- | la, the station just passed, Early in the morning in the misty indistinctness of | the ante-chamber of day, Jones contin- ued upon his journey, his few belong | ings tied in red bandanna depending from the end of stout hickory stick carried over his shoulder.
 "He walked briskly along the railroad 1 track, with nothing to interfere or mo- | lest, until he reached a point about half | mile east of the station. There was no sound to attract his attention, but glancing up instinctively, he saw an
 agile form of brown color emerging | into blotches of ashen gray, with small, | geaming black eyes, whose pupils were abnormally expanded. The traveller re- cognized it at once as a catamount, a | fiercer brother of the wildcat Not wishing to encounter such formidable | adversary, Jones turned to flee, when he perceived, about the same distance in the rear, similar pair of black eyes peering from similar brown body. He | wa e in a diIanma He turned to nitber