The river, the bluff, and the lake are there; but waste and desolation
frown on these, and the fat earth's rich fruits are yielded no more.
Fanaticism's hot breath has breathed upon it, and war's red hand (her
legitimate offspring) has stricken down the laborer; tillage has
ceased, and gaunt poverty and hungry want only are left in her train.
When the great La Salle moored his little fleet at the foot of this
bluff, ascended to its summit, and looked over this then forest-clad
plain, did he contemplate the coming future of this beautiful discovery
of his genius and enterprise? When he looked upon the blue smoke
curling above the tall tree-tops along the lake, in the far distance,
as it ascended from the wigwams of the Natchez, the wild denizens of
this interminable forest, did his prophetic eye perceive these lovely
fields, happy homes, and prosperous people, who came after him to make
an Eden of this chosen spot of all the earth? and did it stretch on to
contemplate the ruin and desolation which overspreads it now? How blest
is man that he sees not beyond to-day!
Here he first met the Natchez, and viewed with wonder the flat heads
and soft, gazelle eyes of this strange people.
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