Voyage of The Paper Canoe [112]
from one locality to another, and many towns, once prosperous, have gone to decay.
The steam saw-mills and village of Ellaville were located on the river-bank opposite Columbus, and this lumber establishment is the only place of importance between it and Cedar Keys. This far-famed river, to which the heart of the minstrel's darky "is turning eber," is, in fact, almost without the "one little hut among de bushes," for it is a wild and lonely stream. Even in the most prosperous times there were but few plantations upon its shores. Wild animals roam its great forests, and vile reptiles infest the dense swamps. It is a country well fitted for the hunter and lumberman, for the naturalist or canoeist; but the majority of people would, I am sure, rather hear of it poured forth in song from the sweet lips of Christina Nilsson, than to be themselves "way down upon the Suwanee Ribber."
On Monday, March 22d, Messrs. Nason, Purviance, and Henderson joined me. The party had obtained a northern-built shad-boat, which had been brought by rail from Savannah. It was sloop-rigged, and was decked forward, so that the enthusiastic tourists possessed a weatherproof covering for their provisions and blankets. With the strong current of the river, a pair of long oars, and a sail to be used when favorable winds blew, the party in the shad-boat could make easy and rapid progress towards the Gulf, while my lightly dancing craft needed scarcely a touch of the oar to send her forward.
On Tuesday, the 23d, we left Columbus, while a crowd of people assembled to see us off; many of them seeming to consider this simple and delightful way of travelling too dangerous to be attempted. The smooth but swift current rolled on its course like a sea of molten glass, as the soft sunlight trembled through the foliage and shimmered over its broad surface.
Our boats glided safely over the rapids, which for a mile and a half impede the navigation of the river during the summer months, but which were now made safe by the great depth of water caused by the freshet. The weather was charming, and our little party, fully alive to all the beautiful surroundings, woke many an echo with sounds meant to be sweet. Of course the good old song was not forgotten. Our best voice sang:
"Way down up-on de Suwanee Rib-ber, Far, far away, Dere's whar my heart is turn-ing eb-ber, Dere's whar de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home.
"All round de little farm I wander'd When I was young; Den many happy days I squan-der'd - Many de songs I sung. When I was playing wid my brud-der, Hap-py was I. O! take me to my kind old mud-der, Dere let me live and die!
"One little hut among de bushes, - One dat I love, - Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, No matter where I rove. When will I see de bees a-hum-ming All round de comb? When will I hear de ban-jo tum-ming Down in my good old home?"
We all joined in the chorus at the end of each verse:
"All de world am sad and dreary Eb-ry-whar I roam. O, darkies, how my heart grows weary, Far from do old folks at home."
We soon entered forests primeval which were quiet, save for the sound of the axe of the log-thief; for timber-stealing is a profession which reaches its greatest perfection on the Florida state lands and United States naval reserves. Uncle Sam's territory is being constantly plundered to supply the steam saw-mills of private individuals in Florida. Several of the party told interesting stories of the way in which log-thieves managed to steal from the government legally.
"There,"
The steam saw-mills and village of Ellaville were located on the river-bank opposite Columbus, and this lumber establishment is the only place of importance between it and Cedar Keys. This far-famed river, to which the heart of the minstrel's darky "is turning eber," is, in fact, almost without the "one little hut among de bushes," for it is a wild and lonely stream. Even in the most prosperous times there were but few plantations upon its shores. Wild animals roam its great forests, and vile reptiles infest the dense swamps. It is a country well fitted for the hunter and lumberman, for the naturalist or canoeist; but the majority of people would, I am sure, rather hear of it poured forth in song from the sweet lips of Christina Nilsson, than to be themselves "way down upon the Suwanee Ribber."
On Monday, March 22d, Messrs. Nason, Purviance, and Henderson joined me. The party had obtained a northern-built shad-boat, which had been brought by rail from Savannah. It was sloop-rigged, and was decked forward, so that the enthusiastic tourists possessed a weatherproof covering for their provisions and blankets. With the strong current of the river, a pair of long oars, and a sail to be used when favorable winds blew, the party in the shad-boat could make easy and rapid progress towards the Gulf, while my lightly dancing craft needed scarcely a touch of the oar to send her forward.
On Tuesday, the 23d, we left Columbus, while a crowd of people assembled to see us off; many of them seeming to consider this simple and delightful way of travelling too dangerous to be attempted. The smooth but swift current rolled on its course like a sea of molten glass, as the soft sunlight trembled through the foliage and shimmered over its broad surface.
Our boats glided safely over the rapids, which for a mile and a half impede the navigation of the river during the summer months, but which were now made safe by the great depth of water caused by the freshet. The weather was charming, and our little party, fully alive to all the beautiful surroundings, woke many an echo with sounds meant to be sweet. Of course the good old song was not forgotten. Our best voice sang:
"Way down up-on de Suwanee Rib-ber, Far, far away, Dere's whar my heart is turn-ing eb-ber, Dere's whar de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home.
"All round de little farm I wander'd When I was young; Den many happy days I squan-der'd - Many de songs I sung. When I was playing wid my brud-der, Hap-py was I. O! take me to my kind old mud-der, Dere let me live and die!
"One little hut among de bushes, - One dat I love, - Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, No matter where I rove. When will I see de bees a-hum-ming All round de comb? When will I hear de ban-jo tum-ming Down in my good old home?"
We all joined in the chorus at the end of each verse:
"All de world am sad and dreary Eb-ry-whar I roam. O, darkies, how my heart grows weary, Far from do old folks at home."
We soon entered forests primeval which were quiet, save for the sound of the axe of the log-thief; for timber-stealing is a profession which reaches its greatest perfection on the Florida state lands and United States naval reserves. Uncle Sam's territory is being constantly plundered to supply the steam saw-mills of private individuals in Florida. Several of the party told interesting stories of the way in which log-thieves managed to steal from the government legally.
"There,"