Read Ebook: The South-West by a Yankee. In Two Volumes. Volume 2 by Ingraham J H Joseph Holt

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The deficient perception of architectural beauty, in the composition of American minds, has frequently, and with some truth, been a subject upon which foreign tourists love to exercise their castigating pens--weapons always wielded fearlessly and pitilessly against every thing on this side of the Atlantic. The very small number of handsome public buildings in the United States, and the total contempt for order or style which, they evince, would give a very plausible foundation for this animadversion, did not Americans redeem their reputation in this point, by the pure and correct taste they universally exhibit in the construction of their private residences. Herein, they are not surpassed by any other nation. Natchez, like most of the minor cities of this country, cannot boast of any public buildings remarkable for harmonious conformity to the rules or orders of architecture. They are, nevertheless, well deserving of notice, highly ornamental to the city, and reflect honour upon the public spirit of its citizens. The Agricultural bank is unquestionably the finest structure in the city. It has been erected very recently on the south side of Main-street, presenting a noble colonnaded front, of the modernized Grecian style; being built somewhat after the model of the United States bank at Philadelphia; though brick and stucco are here substituted for marble, and heavy pillars for the graceful column. It is entered from the street by a broad and spacious flight of steps, leading to its lofty portico, from which three large doors give admission into its vast hall, decidedly the finest room south or west of Washington. The whole structure is a chaste and beautiful specimen of architecture. It is partially enclosed by a light, iron railing. To a stranger this edifice is a striking object, and, contrasted with the buildings of less pretension around it, will call forth his warmest admiration. The other banks, of which there are, in all, three, including a branch of the United States bank, are plain brick buildings, undistinguished from the adjoining stores, except by a colder and more unfurnished appearance, and the absence of signs. A short distance above this fine building is the Masonic Hall; a large square edifice, two lofty stories in height. Its front is beautifully stuccoed, and ornamented with white pilasters. The hall is in the second story; a large, plain, vaulted apartment, almost entirely destitute of the splendid furniture and rich decorations which characterise such places at the north. Here masonry, with its imposing forms, ceremonies, and honours, is yet preserved in all its pristine glory. The first story of the building is used as an academy--the only one in this state. It is a well-conducted institution, and its pupils are thoroughly instructed by competent officers, who are graduates of northern colleges, as are most of the public and private instructors of this state. The number of students is generally large. Those who are destined for professional life, after completing their preparatory course here, usually enter some one of the colleges at the north. Yale, Princeton, and Harvard annually receive several from this state; either from this academy or from under the hands of the private tutors, who are dispersed throughout the state, and from whom a great majority of the planters' sons receive their preparatory education. But on the subject of education in this country, I shall speak more fully hereafter. I could not pass by this institution, which reflects so much honour upon the city, without expressing my gratification at its flourishing condition and high character. It is the more gratifying from being unexpected at the south, which, till very lately, has been wholly dependent upon the northern seminaries or private institutions for the education of her sons. To see here an institution that cannot be surpassed by any of the same rank in other states, must not only be pleasing to the friends of education, but particularly so to the citizens of this state, to whom it is ably demonstrated, by the success of this academy, that literature is not an exotic, though its germs may heretofore have been transplanted from another soil. There is a female seminary also in the city, which, though of a very respectable character, is not so celebrated and flourishing as many others in the state.

On the south side of the next square is an old "burying-ground," crowning an eminence whose surface is covered with fragments of grave-stones and dismantled tombs. The street is excavated through it to its base, leaving a wall or bank of earth nearly thirty feet in height; upon the verge of which crumbling tombs are suspended, threatening to fall upon the passenger beneath. It has not been used for many years as a place of burial; the present cemetery being about a mile above the city, in a delightful spot among the green hills which cluster along the banks of the river. This old cemetery is a striking but disagreeable feature in the midst of so fair a city. Adjoining it, on the eastern side, and nearly at the extremity of the street and also of the city, stands the theatre; a large, commodious building, constructed of brick, with arched entrances and perfectly plain exterior. The citizens of Natchez are not a play-going community; consequently they take little pride in the possession of a fine theatre. Its interior, however, is well arranged, convenient, and handsomely painted and decorated. Its boards are supplied, for two or three months during every season, by performers from New-Orleans or New-York. Just beyond the theatre is the termination of Main-street, here intersected by another, from which, to the right and left, fine roads extend into the country--one to Washington, a pleasant village six miles distant, formerly the seat of government of the territory and the location of the public offices; but now a retired, unassuming and rural spot, boasting of a well-endowed college and female seminary--of which, more hereafter. Of the other public buildings of Natchez, the Presbyterian church is the finest and most imposing. It stands on a commanding site, overlooking the public square, a pleasant green flat, in the centre of which is the court-house. It is constructed of bricks, which are allowed to retain their original colour; and surrounded by buff-coloured pilasters of stucco work, which is here generally substituted for granite in facings. It is surmounted, at the west end, by a fine tower of successive stories; on one side of which is a clock, conspicuous from the most distant parts of the city and suburbs.--You are aware, probably, that there are in this country no Congregationalists, so called; Presbyterians supply the place of this denomination in the ecclesiastical society of all the south and west. The prevailing denomination, however, in this state, as in all this section of the United States, is that of the Methodists, which embraces men of all classes, including a large proportion of planters. I now merely allude to this and other subjects of the kind, as I intend, in subsequent letters, to treat of them more at large.

The court-house is a fine, large, square building, opposite to the church, surmounted by a cupola. It is surrounded by a beautiful, though not spacious, green. On the streets which bound the four sides of it are situated the lawyers' and public offices, which are generally plain, neat, wooden buildings, from one to two stories in height. Should they be denominated from the state of those who occupy them, they would be correctly designated "bachelors' halls." Shade trees half embower them and the court-house in their rich foliage. Opposite to the south side of the square is the county prison; a handsome two story brick building, resembling, save in its grated tier of windows in the upper story, a gentleman's private dwelling. There is a fine Episcopalian church in the south-east part of the town, adding much to its beauty. It is built of brick, and surmounted by a vast dome, which has a rather heavy, overgrown appearance, and is evidently too large for the building. It has a neat front, adorned with a portico of the usual brick pillars. There are not many Episcopalians here; but the few who are of this denomination are, as every where else in the United States, generally of the wealthy and educated class. There is also a Methodist church adjoining the Masonic hall; a plain, neat building, remarkable only for its unassuming simplicity, like all others of this denomination in America.

The light-house upon the bluff, at the north-west corner of the city, is well deserving of notice, though not properly ranked under the public buildings of Natchez. It is a simple tower, about forty feet in height, commanding a section of the river, north and south, of about twelve miles. But the natural inquiry of the stranger is, "What is its use?" A light-house on a river bank, three hundred miles from the sea, has certainly no place in the theory of the utilitarian. The use of it its projectors must determine. Were a good telescope placed in its lantern it would make a fine observatory, and become a source of amusement as well as of improvement to the citizens, to whom it is now merely a standing monument, in proof of the proverb, that "wisdom dwelleth not in all men." The hotels are very fine. Parker's, on one of the front squares, near the bluff, is a handsome, costly, and very extensive building, three stories in height, with a stuccoed front, in imitation of granite, and decidedly the largest edifice in the city. Its rooms are large, spacious, and elegantly furnished; suited rather for gentlemen and their families, who choose a temporary residence in town, than for transient travellers and single men, who more frequently resort to the "Mansion-house." This is not so large a structure as the former, though its proprietor is enlarging it, on an extensive scale. It has long been celebrated as an excellent house. Its accommodations for ladies are also very good, their rooms opening into ventilated piazzas, or galleries, as they are termed here, which are as necessary to every house in this country as fire-places to a northern dwelling. These galleries, or more properly verandas, are constructed--not like the New-England piazza, raised on columns half the height of the building, with a flat roof, and surrounded by a railing--but by extending a sloping roof beyond the main building, supported at its verge by slender columns; as the houses are usually of but one story in this country, southerners having a singular aversion to mounting stairs. Such porticoes are easily constructed. No house, particularly a planter's, is complete without this gallery, usually at both the back and front; which furnishes a fine promenade and dining-room in the warm season, and adds much to the lightness and beauty of the edifice.

There is another very good hotel here, equivalent to Richardson's, in New-Orleans, or the Elm-street house in Boston, where the country people usually put up when they come in from the distant counties to dispose of their cotton. It fronts on "Cotton-square," as a triangular area, formed by clipping off a corner of one of the city squares, is termed; which is filled every day, during the months of November, December, and January, with huge teams loaded with cotton bales, for which this is the peculiar market place.

The "City hotel," lately enlarged and refurnished, is now becoming quite a place of fashionable resort.

Society of Natchez--New-England adventurers--Their prospects --The Yankee sisterhood--Southern bachelors--Southern society --Woman--Her past and present condition--Single combats-- Fireside pleasures unknown--A change--Town and country-- Characteristic discrepancies.

Until within a very short period, the society of Natchez has exhibited one peculiar characteristic, in the estimation of a northerner, in whose migrating land "seven women," literally fulfilling the prediction, "take hold of one man;" a prediction which has, moreover, been fulfilled, according to the redoubtable and most classical Crockett, in the west; but by no means in this place, or in any of the embryo cities, which are springing up like Jonah's gourd, along the banks of the great "father of waters." The predominance of male population in the countless villages that are dotting the great western valley, rising up amidst the forests, one after another, as stars come out at evening, and almost in as rapid succession, is a necessary consequence of the natural laws of migration. In the old Atlantic and New-England states, the sons, as they successively grow up to manhood, take the paternal blessing and their little patrimony, often all easily packed and carried in a knapsack, but oftener in their heads, and bend their way to the "great west," to seek their fortunes, with them no nursery tale, but a stern and hardly earned reality:--there to struggle--prosper or fail--with blighted hopes go down to early graves, or, building a fire-side of their own, gather around it sons, who, in their declining years, shall, in their turn, go forth from the paternal roof to seek beyond the mountains of the Pacific shore a name, a fire-side, and a home of their own. And such is human life!

To this migratory propensity is to be attributed the recent peculiar state of society in this city, and throughout the whole western country. The sons are the founders of these infant emporiums, but the daughters stay at home in a state of single blessedness--blessings to the maternal roof, till some bold aspirants for the yoke of hymen return, after spying out the land, take them under their migratory wings and bear them to their new home. But unluckily for six out of every seven of the fair daughters of the east, the pioneers of the west feel disposed to pass their lives in all the solitary dignity of the bachelor state. Wrapped up in their speculations, their segars and their "clubs," not even a second Sabine device could move them to bend their reluctant necks to the noose. Those, however, who do take to themselves "helpmeets," are more gallant and chivalrous than their Roman predecessors in their mode of obtaining them, not demurring to travel, like Coelebs, many hundred leagues to the land of steady habits, to secure the possession of some one of its lovely flowers. The concentrating of a great number of young gentlemen for a permanent residence in one spot, without a suitable proportion of the gentler sex to enliven and relieve the rougher shades of such an assemblage, must produce a state of society, varying essentially from that in communities where the division is more equal. Hotels, or offices of professional business must be their residences--their leisure hours must be spent in lounging at each other's rooms like college students, or in the public rooms of the hotels, caf?s, or gambling houses. Habits difficult to eradicate are contracted, of dark and fatal consequences to many; and a rude, cavalier bearing is thereby imperceptibly acquired, more congenial with the wild, free spirit of the middle ages, than the refinement of modern times. The bold and rugged outlines natural to the sterner character of man, can only be softened by that refining influence which the cultivated female mind irresistibly exerts upon society. Wherever woman--

"Blessing and blest, where'er she moves,"

"To bloom unseen around their lonely hearths, And waste their sweetness on the desert air."

A Sabbath morning in Natchez--A ramble to the bluff-- Louisiana forests--Natchez under the Hill--Slaves-- Holidays--Negroes going to church--Negro street coteries --Market-day--City hotel--Description of the landing-- Rail-way--A rendezvous--Neglected Sabbath-bell.

Yesterday was the Sabbath; one of those still, bright, and sunny days which poetry and religion have loved to challenge as peculiar to that sacred time. To this beautiful conception, fact, aided somewhat by fancy, does not, however, refuse its sanction. A serene and awful majesty has ever appeared to me as peculiarly belonging to the day of rest. It seems blessed with a holier power than is given to the common days of earth: a more hallowed silence then reigns in the air and over nature--a spirit of sanctity, like a "still small voice," breathes eloquently over the heart, from which better feelings and purer thoughts ascend and hold communion with the unseen world. A spell, like a mantle of heavenly texture, seems thrown over all; to break which, by the light notes of merry music, or the sounds of gay discourse, would seem like profanation. Such was this Sabbath morning. The sun arose in the glory of his southern power, "rejoicing to run his race." Bathed in a sea of his own created light, he poured, with lavish opulence, floods of radiance over nature--illuminating, beautifying, and enriching all on which he shone. I had early rambled to the cliff, to get away from the noise and bustle of the hotel, and to enjoy the luxuriant beauty of the morning. The windows of the dwellings, and the roofs and spires of the town, reflected back the rising sun, whose beams glittered from myriads of dew-drops that spangled the green earth, converting its soft verdure into a carpet, studded with innumerable gems. The city itself reposed, as in a deep sleep, on the quiet hills upon which it rested. The majestic Mississippi was spread out before me like a vast sheet of liquid steel--its unruffled bosom, dotted and relieved here and there by a light skiff, or a huge steamer, booming and puffing far away in the distance; while the lofty, mural precipices which frowned menacingly over its eastern shore, were reflected from its depth with the accuracy and distinctness of a sub-marine creation. The Louisianian forests, clothing the interminable plains which stretch away to the west, with an almost perennial green, were crested with golden sun-light, and flashing as they waved in the morning breeze, like a phosphorescent sea of mingled green and light. Nature wore her richest garb, and her every feature was eminently beautiful. There was nothing to impair her loveliness, but that fallen, guilty being, who should be a diadem of glory for her brow, and the brightest ornament of her bosom--MAN! proud and sinful man, desecrating all that is fair and pure wherever he treads--he alone defaced the calm and hallowed character of the scene.

From a row of dilapidated yet inhabited dwellings beneath me, at the base of the cliff, sounds of rude merriment, mingled with the tones of loud dispute and blasphemy, rose with appalling distinctness upon the still air, breaking the Sabbath silence of the hour, in harsh discord with its sacredness. The streets of the lower town were alive with boatmen, draymen, buyers and sellers, horsemen and hacks, and scores of negroes, some wrestling, some fighting, others running foot-races, playing quoits or marbles, selling the products of their little gardens, or, with greater probability, their predatory excursions; while from all combined, a confused murmur, not unlike the harmony which floated around Babel, rolled upward to the skies--an incense far from acceptable to Him, who has promulgated amid the thunders of Sinai, "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy."

That a market should be held upon the Sabbath in this city, is a "bend sinister" upon its escutcheon. But this custom is defended, even by those who admit its evil tendency, upon the plea "that meats in this climate will not keep over night."--This is no doubt the case during a great part of the year. A different system of things, in this respect, is desirable; but the reason just mentioned, combined with others, peculiar to a southern state of society, renders any change at present very difficult.

The "Landing," which more popular term has of late superseded the old notorious cognomination, "Natchez under the Hill," properly consists of three dissimilar divisions. The northern is composed mostly of wretched dwellings, low taverns, and drinking shops, where are congregated free negroes, more wretched than their brother bondmen, and poor whites. At the termination of this division are an excellent steam saw-mill and an oil-mill, where oil of a superior quality for lamps is extracted from cotton seed, heretofore a useless article, except for manure, but now disposed of with considerable profit. About the centre of this northern division is suspended a strangely-constructed rail-way, springing from the Lev?e to the summit of the cliff. It was laid down, or rather built up, a short time since, for the more convenient carriage of cotton to the Landing; but has failed in its object, and is now disused and neglected. Viewed from the Lev?e, it is a striking feature, rising boldly from the feet of the observer, a mammoth pile of frame-work, at an angle of 45 degrees, and terminating at the height of one hundred and sixty feet, upon the verge of the bluff. The sides are closed up, and a portion is occupied by stores or dwellings, while another part is appropriated for a bowling alley. The noise of the iron-wheeled cars rolling down the steep track, with the roar of thunder, over the heads of the players, must have been a novel accompaniment to the sound of their own balls. The southern division of the Landing consists of one short street, parallel with the river, over which it hangs on one side, while the houses on the other are overhung by a spur of the cliff, which, like an avalanche, threatens every moment to slide and overwhelm it. This street is lined with dancing-houses, tippling-shops, houses of ill-fame, and gambling-rooms.--Here may always be heard the sound of the violin, the clink of silver upon the roulette and faro-tables, and the language of profanity and lewdness: and the revellers, so far from being interrupted by the intervention of the Sabbath, actually distinguish it by a closer and more persevering devotion to their unhallowed pursuits and amusements. The remaining division of the Landing, which lies between the other two, is a short street, extending from the base of the cliff to the Lev?e, a great part of which it comprises, and along an intersecting street, which skirts the foot of the bluff as far as the rail-way: here are congregated store-houses, boarding-houses, and bachelors' halls--which many of the merchants keep over their own stores, hiring or buying some old black woman to officiate as the representative of Monsieur Ude--the commodious hotel before alluded to, conducted by a "Green Mountain boy," and wholesale and retail grocery and dry goods stores. Neither of these kinds of goods is made, by itself, the sole stock of a dealer, either here or on the hill; but with the various articles in every kind of commercial dealing they pile their shelves and fill their warehouses; the whole forming a mixed assortment, appropriately adapted to the peculiar wants of their country, town, and steamboat customers. These stores are all kept open upon the Sabbath, on which day there is often more business done than on any other. The blacks, who have no other opportunity of making their little purchases, crowd around the counters--the boatmen trade off their cargoes, and the purchasers store them--steamers are constantly arriving and departing, lading and unlading--and the steam ferry-boat makes its oft-repeated trip from shore to shore--all giving a life, bustle, and variety to the scene, of a very unsabbath-like character. The merchants plead the necessity of supplying steamers. This is readily admitted; but it has given rise to a train of unforeseen evils, which have little relation to this basis of the custom. The numerous drinking shops in the other parts of the Landing are, on that day, as much at least, if not more than on other days, filled with a motley assemblage of black, white, and yellow, drinking and carousing.

Nearly two hundred feet below me, as I stood upon the bluff, and within the huge shadow of the cliff, stretched a long, low building, over which proudly waved the star-spangled banner, and to whose inhabitants the sun, already high in the heavens, had not yet risen. From this building issued the sound of bestial revelry, drowning the hum of business and the shouts of boyish merriment. The coarse gray clothing of most of those lounging about the door, designated it, in conjunction with the flag over their heads, as a rendezvous--even had not the martial eloquence of a little, half-tipsy, dapper man in a gray doublet, whose voice now and then reached my ear in the intervals of the uproarious proceedings--expatiating to a gaping crowd of grinning Africans--nightcapped or bare-headed white females, in slattern apparel and uncombed locks--two or three straight, blanketed, silent Indians--noisy boys and ragged boatmen--upon the glories of a soldier's life, sufficiently indicated its character.

"The sound of the church-going bell" pealed idly over their heads, unheard, or if heard, disregarded; and to the crowds which the eye of an observer could take in from his elevation upon the bluff, the divine institution of the Sabbath is invalid.

Reminiscences--An aged pastor--Streets of Natchez on the Sabbath--Interior of a church--Church music--Pulpit oratory --A New-England scene--Peculiar state of society--Wealthy ministers--Clerical planters--Health of Mississippi-- Episcopalian church--Catholics--The French language-- Catholic education--Methodists--An alarm bell and slaves.

After a long voyage, the sound of a Sabbath bell, borne over the waves from a white tower, far inland among the green hills of my native land, awed, like a voice from heaven, every spirit on board of our ship, from the commander to the rudest mariner, striking a chord long untouched in many hearts, and awakening associations of innocence and childhood, of home and heaven. As one after another, each clear-toned peal rolled solemnly over the sea, every footfall was involuntarily hushed, the half uttered jest or oath was arrested on the tongue--the turbulent spirit was quieted and subdued--every rough weather-beaten visage was softened, and for the remainder of that day--long, long after its dying notes had floated like spiritual music over our ship, and died away in the distant "fields of the ocean,"--each one on board felt himself a better man.

Sensations nearly allied to these were awakened in my breast, as I stood upon the cliff, the Sabbath morning preceding the date of my last letter, contrasting the calm rich beauty of nature, with the dark scenes of vice, misery and impiety beneath me, by the sudden pealing of the church bell, ringing out its loud melody over the city, awakening the slumbering echoes from

"Tomb and tower, cliff and forest glade,"

and calling man to the worship of his Maker. My thoughts, by a natural association, went backward many a long year, and dwelt upon a sweet sequestered valley, far away among the northern hills, with its chaste temple, whose snow-white slender spire, like the finger of undying hope, pointed man to his home in heaven, where, in early boyhood, we were first taught to worship the Great Being who made us; to the venerable figure of that silver-headed man of God, whose eloquence, at one time sublime, and full of majesty and power, would strike his hearers with holy dread--at another, soft, persuasive, and artless as the language of a child, diffuse a holy devotion throughout their bosoms, or melt them into tears; whose audience listened with their hearts, rather than with their ears--so masterly was the intellect, made God-like by religion, which could ring what changes it would, upon the susceptible chords of human sensibility. My reverie of the past, however, was soon interrupted by the rattling of carriages, as they rolled over the noble esplanade between me and the city, from the roads which extend north and south along the banks of the river, on their way to church. I prepared to follow their example. From my position I could look into one of the principal streets of the town, now rapidly filling with well-dressed people, numerous private equipages, and horsemen in great numbers. I soon fell in with the living current, and in a few minutes arrived at the Presbyterian church, situated in the centre and highest part of the city. The approach was literally blockaded by carriages from the suburbs and neighbouring plantations.

The congregation was large, attentive, and so far as I could judge, as exteriorly fashionable as in Boston or New-York. The interior of the building is plain, and vaulted. A handsome pulpit stands opposite the entrance, over which is a gallery for the coloured people. The pulpit is deficient in a sounding-board, that admirable contrivance for condensing the voice, which, in an apartment of vast dimensions, has too great expansion. There was neither organ nor any other instrumental aid to the church music, which, though exclusively vocal, was uncommonly fine--the clergyman himself leading. But the effect was much lessened by the want of that volume and power, which it would gain, were the singers, who are now dispersed over the house in their respective pews, collected into a choir, and placed in the gallery, as is generally customary elsewhere. The discourse was unexceptionable; possessing more originality than is usually found at the present day in compositions of that nature, embellished with considerable beauties of language, and pronounced in a forcible, unimpassioned, yet impressive style of oratory, which I should like to see more adopted in the sacred desk, as eminently fitter for the solemnity of the house of God, than that haranguing declamatory style of headlong eloquence so often displayed in the pulpit.

As I delayed for a minute under the portico of the church, after the services were over, watching, with a stranger's eye, the members of the congregation as they issued from the church and filed off through the several streets to their residences, I felt that I had not, since leaving New-England, beheld a scene which reminded me so forcibly and pleasantly of home. I have, in a former letter, alluded to the prevalence of the Presbyterian church government in Mississippi, to the preclusion of Congregationalists. There is not a resident minister of the latter denomination in this state or in Louisiana. There are only about twenty-four Presbyterian churches in the state, comprising between eight and nine hundred communicants in all; a less number than now composes the late Dr. Payson's church in Portland. The church in Natchez includes about one hundred members, which is the largest number in any one church in the whole state, with two exceptions; one of which is, a Scotch community, about fifty miles in the country east from this city; most of whom, or their fathers before them, emigrating from the land of primitive manners, still retain their national characteristics of simplicity and piety; and that stern, unyielding spirit and Christian devotedness which distinguished the Scottish Presbyterians of "olden time," of whom, though planted in the bosom of an American forest, they are worthy and original representatives. They are a plain, moderately independent, farming community, and sincerely and rigidly devoted to the duties of Christian worship. They have an aged pastor over them, to whom they are devotedly attached; and who is to them, who regard him with the affection of children, indeed a "shepherd and father in Israel." They live like a little band of exiled Waldenses, unsophisticated in their manners, pure and severe in their religion. The Gaelic is spoken among them, and also by many of the other settlers in that portion of the state, who reside in the vicinity of Pearl river; by them also the old popular Gaelic songs are sung, in their original purity and spirit. In the vicinity of this settlement the Presbyterians annually hold a camp meeting. A Presbyterian camp meeting is at least a novelty at the north.

The majority of the ministers of this state are graduates of Princeton college. They form, as do the educated clergy every where, a class of well-informed, intelligent men; though too few in number, and generally placed over congregations too much scattered throughout a large and thinly inhabited extent of country, to command or exercise that peculiar influence upon society which, in more densely populated countries, is so universally possessed by them; and whose elevating, purifying, and moral effect is so readily acknowledged by all classes. So long as this state of society, now peculiar to the south, continues, ministerial influence, in its unadulterated and evangelical power, can hold but limited sway over the heart of the community. Divines are too often looked upon, not as representatives of the Saviour, but merely as intelligent, clever gentlemen, popular and esteemed as they make themselves more or less agreeable and social. A distinguished clergyman in England--where, as you know, the surplice is too often assumed, without any other qualification for the sacred office than the talisman "interest," was termed "a clever, noble fellow," by the neighbouring gentry, for his skill in hunting, and the other lordly sports of English country gentlemen. The manners, customs, amusements, and way of life, of the native born, wealthy, educated planters, have struck me as very similar to those of English gentlemen of wealth and leisure: and it is certain that, generally, many of them would be very apt, like them, to appreciate a clergyman as much for his social qualifications, as for those naturally associated with, and with which he is invested by, his clerical honours.

Here, the Presbyterian clergy, unlike those in the northern states, are generally wealthy. With but a few exceptions, they have, after a short residence in this country, become planters, some of whom have noble annual incomes. After retiring to their plantations they do not--and I mention it with pleasure--altogether resign their ministerial duties. Some of them preach in destitute churches, from time to time; while others regularly officiate to congregations of their own slaves. One of these clerical planters has erected a neat church upon his plantation, in which he officiates to an assembly of his slaves three Sabbaths in every month; where the worship is conducted with the same regularity, decorum, and dignity, as in other congregations. Some leave the entire management of their estates to overseers, and regularly perform their official duties. But it is difficult for a clergyman to own a rich plantation, without becoming a thorough-going cotton planter. The occupation, with all its ramifications, if not incompatible with his holy office, must necessarily be more or less injurious to the individual, and present a broad target for the shafts of the confessed worshipper of Mammon.

The bugbear reputation of this country for mortality, has long deterred young ministers from filling the places occasionally deserted by their former occupants; many of whom, if they do not resign their office, pass the long summers at the north.--But as no country can well be healthier than this has been, for the last six or seven years, this "health plea" can no longer be offered as an excuse. Indeed, so singularly healthy is this portion of the south-west, that were I required to give it a name, with reference to some one striking characteristic, I should at once call it "Buenos Ayres." Such, briefly, is the state and condition of the Presbyterian church in this state; which, aside from its form of government, in its formula of faith, and in the rank in society of its members, is equivalent to the Congregational churches in the north.

The peculiar structure of southern society is neither prepared for, nor will it admit of, the exercise of that ecclesiastical influence to which I have above alluded. It is composed, primarily, of wealthy individuals, living aloof from each other on their respective plantations, isolated like feudal chieftains, who, of old, with the spirit of ascetics, frowned defiance at each other, from their castellated rocks: though, do not understand me that planters partake of their belligerent spirit. On the contrary, the reverse is most true of them--for "hospitality" and "southern planter" are synonymous terms. Though there are not more hospitable men in the world than southern gentlemen--though no men can render their houses more agreeable to the stranger--though none are more fascinating in their manners, or more generous in heart--yet they are deficient in that social, domestic feeling, which is the life, excellence, and charm of New-England society, which renders it so dear to every wanderer's heart, and casts around the affections a spell that no power but death can injure or destroy.

The Episcopalian church comprises an infinitely smaller body of members: the few who are of this church, however, are generally opulent planters, merchants, and professional men, with their families. There is but one church of this denomination in the state, which is in this city. I attended worship here the last Sabbath. The house was fashionably but thinly filled. The interior of the house is plain, though relieved, near the termination of the southern aisle, by a black marble slab, fixed in the wall, to the memory of the Rev. Dr. Porter, late pastor of the church. The pulpit, which is a miniature forum, is chaste and elegant, and its drapery rich and tastefully arranged. The choir was full and powerful, whose effect was increased by a fine-toned organ, the only one in the state; but whose rich and striking melody must be a powerful pleader, to the ears of amateurs of good church music, for their more general introduction. The eloquence of the speaker was engaging, mild, and gentlemanly. The latter term is very expressive of his manner, and conciliating pulpit address.--Though not striking as an orator, his thoughts were just and pertinent. He

"Mysterious secrets of a high concern And weighty truths-- Explained by unaffected eloquence."

Contrary to the prevalent opinion at the north, Roman Catholic influence in this state is entirely unknown. Formerly there was a Romish church in this city, ill endowed and seldom supplied with an officiating priest. This was accidentally destroyed by fire a year or two since; and there is now no church of that denomination in the state, and hardly a sufficient number of Catholics to organize one, did they possess either the spirit or inclination. Such is the peculiar turn of mind of Mississippians, that they never can be catholicised. The contiguity of this state to Louisiana, with its French-Roman population, has probably given rise to the opinion above stated, which is as erroneous and unfounded in fact, as is one also very current among northerners, and originating from the same local relation. Obtaining their knowledge of this, among other countries, from Morse's or Cumming's Geography, or other imperfect sources, they have the impression that the French and Spanish languages are much spoken here; whereas they are probably less used here, in mere colloquial intercourse, than in many of the Atlantic states. Maine adjoins Canada; yet who gives Major Downing's fellow-countrymen the credit of speaking French in their daily transactions? It is true that many planters and citizens of Mississippi send their sons to the Catholic seminary at St. Louis, or Bardstown, in Kentucky, and their daughters to the French convents in Louisiana; but this cannot be advanced as any proof of the prevalence of the religion of Rome here, as the same thing is done in New-England, where stand the very pillars of the orthodox faith; and it is done much less frequently now than in former years. The prevailing Christian denomination, as I have before remarked, is that of the Methodists. The excess of their numbers over that of the two other denominations, Presbyterians and Episcopalians, is very great; but having no table of ecclesiastical statistics by me, to which I can refer for greater accuracy, I cannot state correctly the proportions which they bear to each other.--This denomination embraces all ranks of society, including many of the affluent and a majority of the merely independent planters, throughout the state.--Some of the assemblages here, in the Methodist churches, would remind the stranger rather of a fashionable New-York audience, than a congregation of plain people, soberly arrayed, such as he is accustomed to behold in a Methodist church in New-England. Indeed, the Methodists here are generally a widely different class of people from those which compose a northern congregation of the same denomination.

FOOTNOTES:

See a meteorological table and medical report in the appendix--Note C.

Catholic burying-ground--Evening in a grave-yard--Sounds of a busy city--Night--Disturbers of the dead--Dishumation of human remains--Mourning cards--A funeral--Various modes of riding--Yankee horsemanship--Mississippian horsemen--Pacers --A plantation road--Residence--The grave--Slaves weeping for their master!--New cemetery.

In a former letter I have alluded to the old cemetery in the centre of this city, strewed with dismantled tombs, monuments and fragments of grave-stones, fenceless and shadeless; a play-ground for the young academicians, from the adjacent seminary, and a common for the epicurean cow, it stands covering the sides and summit of a pleasantly rounded hill, a monument and a testimony of the characteristic negligence and indifference of Americans for the repositories of their dead.

The Spanish and Roman Catholic custom of sending printed mourning cards to the relatives and friends of the deceased, is adopted in this country. On the death of an individual these tickets are immediately issued and sent throughout the city and neighbourhood--left indiscriminately, by the carriers, with friends and strangers, at private houses or in hotels and bar-rooms. While standing yesterday at the door of the hotel, one of these cards was placed in my hands by a mulatto slave, who, with his hands full of them, was distributing them about the town. It was a beautifully watered sheet, surrounded with a deep mourning body; in the centre of which were two or three lines of invitation, "to assist, in the funeral ceremony;" and worded like those often seen inserted in the daily papers of a large city. The use of these cards is an established custom, and seldom if ever deviated from. It is at least a feeling one, and not unworthy of general imitation.

In company with some gentlemen from the hotel, I attended this funeral, actuated wholly by a stranger's curiosity; for, as well as others of the party, I was a total stranger to the family of the deceased, who resided a few miles in the country. Our cavalcade consisted of six--two Yankees, three southerners, and an Englishman. The first rode, as most Yankees do, awkwardly; for Yankees, at home, are gig-drivers, not horsemen. Giving too much heed to the poising of their very erect bodies, they left their legs to take care of themselves; but when their attention was drawn, for a moment, to these members, they would rock upon their saddles, the very images of "tottering equilibriums," as Capt. Hall would term them; and fortunate were they in recovering their nearly forfeited seats again.--These horses, which advance by first lifting two legs on one side and then changing to the other, do not suit brother Jonathan's notions of a riding horse. So he applies whip and spur, and breaks away into a long gallop. Then indeed he is in his element. An Arabian, on being asked what was the best seat in the world, replied, "The back of a fleet courser." If the querist had applied to Jonathan, he would have said, "A galloping nag." Whenever you see a stranger galloping at the south, you will seldom err in guessing him to be a Yankee. Our English friend rode cockney fashion; that is, not much unlike a clothes-pin, or a pair of compasses, astride a line. Stiff and erect as a Hungarian hussar, he curvetted along the smooth roads, till he had worked his slight-framed, spirited animal into a fever of excitement, which flung the foam over his rider, as he tossed his head, swelled his curved neck, and champed his bit in rage, in vain efforts to spring away, free from his thraldom; but the rider fingered the slight bridle-rein with the ease and skill of a master. The southerners of the party rode like all southerners, admirably, inimitably. They appeared as much at home and at ease in their saddles, as in a well-stuffed arm-chair after dining generously. The Mississippian sits his horse gracefully, yet not, as the riding-master would say, scientifically. He never seems to think of himself, or the position of his limbs. They yield, as does his whole body, pliantly and naturally to the motions of the animal beneath him, with which his own harmonize so perfectly and with such flexibility, that there seems to be but one principle actuating both. He glides easily along upon his pacer, with the bridle thrown upon its neck, or over the high pummel of his handsome Spanish saddle; talking as unconcernedly with his companions, as though lounging, arm in arm with them, along the streets. He seldom goes out of a pace. If he is in haste, he only paces the faster. Of every variety of gaited animals which I have seen, the Mississippian pacer is the most desirable. I shall, however, have occasion to allude hereafter to southern equestrianism more particularly, and will return from my digression to the funeral.

We arrived at the entrance gate of the plantation after a delightful ride of half an hour, along a fine though dusty road, bordered with noble forests of oak, black gum, the hoary-coated sycamore, and the rich-leaved, evergreen magnolia, among and around which the grape vine entwined and hung in graceful festoons. Through natural vistas in the wood occasional glimpses could be obtained of white villas, not unfrequently large and elegant, half hidden in the centre of plantations, or among the thick woods which crowned the swelling hills on every side. The road was, like most of the roads here, a succession of gentle ascents and descents, being laid out so as to intersect transversely parallel ridges, themselves composed of isolated hills, gently blending and linking into each other. The country was luxuriant, undulating, and picturesque. The general character of the scenery struck me as remarkably English. The resemblance would be still more striking, did not the taste or convenience of the planters lead them to select the site of their dwellings in the centre of their plantations, or in the depths of their forests, without any reference to the public road, which is always the northern farmer's guide in such a case, thereby giving a solitary character to the road scenery, and detracting much from the general beauty of the country.

The residence to which we were riding was invisible from the road. We passed through a large gateway, the gate of which, one of our Yankee brethren, who had galloped forward, tried in vain to open, nearly tumbling from his horse in the attempt, but which one of our southern friends paced up to, and scarcely checking his horse, opened with the merest effort in the world. Winding our way rapidly along a circuitous carriage-way, at one time threading the mazes of the forest, at another, coursing through a cotton field, whitened as though snow had fallen in large flakes and thickly sprinkled its green surface--now following the pebbly bed of a deep bayou, with overhanging, precipitous banks, and now skirting the borders of some brawling rivulet, we arrived in sight of the "house of mourning." The dwelling, like most in Mississippi, was a long, wooden, cottage-like edifice, with a long piazza, or gallery, projecting from the roof, and extending along the front and rear of the building. This gallery is in all country-houses, in the summer, the lounging room, reception room, promenade and dining room. The kitchen, "gin," stables, out-houses, and negro-quarters, extended some distance in the rear, the whole forming quite a village--but more African than American in its features. We were rather too late, as the funeral procession was already proceeding to the grave-yard, which was, as on most plantations, a secluded spot not far from the dwelling, set apart as a family burying-ground. I was struck with the appearance of the procession. Six mounted gentlemen in black, preceded the hearse as bearers. A broad band of white cambric encircled their hats, and streamed away behind in two pennons nearly a yard in length. A broad white sash of similar materials was passed over the right shoulder, from which a pennon of black ribbon fluttered, and was knotted under the left side, while the ends were allowed to hang nearly to the feet. The hearse was a huge black chest, opening at the end for the admission of the coffin, which, as I discovered at the grave, was richly covered with black silk velvet, and studded with a border of gilt nails. Its top was not horizontal, as you are accustomed to see them, but raised in the middle like a roof. The hearse was followed by several private carriages, gigs, of which a northern procession would consist, being not much used in this country. An irregular procession, or rather crowd of slaves in the rear of all, followed with sorrowful countenances the remains of their master, to his last, long home.

When the heavy clods rattled upon the hollow sounding coffin, these poor wretches, who had anxiously crowded around the grave, burst into one simultaneous flood of tears, mingled with expressions of regret, sorrow and affection. A group of slaves lamenting over the grave of their master! Will not our sceptical countrymen regard this as an anomaly in philanthropy? Half a dozen slaves then shovelled for a few moments from the fresh pile of earth upon the coffin, and a mound soon rose, where, but a few moments before, yawned a grave! An appropriate prayer was offered over the dead, and the procession dispersed at the burial-place. Such is a plantation-burial! In this manner are consigned to the narrow house, four fifths of the population of this state. The city and town cemeteries are but little resorted to, for a large proportion of those who breathe their last in town, unless they are friendless, or strangers, are borne to some solitary family burial-place in the country for sepulture: there are few families in the towns of Mississippi who have not relatives residing on plantations in the country.

The grave-yard of Natchez, situated as I have formerly observed, a little less than a mile north from the town, on the river road, covers an irregular surface among several small wooded hills, and is surrounded by cotton fields, from which it has been redeemed for its present use. It evinces neither beauty of location, nor taste in the arrangement of its tombs, of which there are but two or three remarkable for elegance or neatness. Its avenues are overgrown with the rank, luxuriant grass, peculiar to grave-yards, varied only here and there by clusters of thorns and briars. The wild and naked features of the spot are occasionally relieved by a shade tree planted by some kindly hand over the grave of a friend; but this occasional testimony of respect will not redeem the cemetery from that negligence and want of taste in this matter with which Americans have been, with too much justice, universally charged by foreigners. In observing the names upon the various head-stones, I noticed that the majority of those who slept beneath, were strangers, mostly from New-England, but many from Europe. Many of them were young. It is thus that the scourge of the south has ever reaped rich, teeming harvests from the north. But those days of terror, it is to be hoped, are for ever past, and that henceforth health will smile over the green hills of this pleasant land, which pestilence has so long blasted with her frowns.

National diversities of character--Diversities of language-- Provincialisms--A plantation and negroes--Natchez bar--A youthful judge--Physicians--Clergymen--Merchants, &c. &c.--A southern mania--"Washing"--Tobacco--Value of cotton planting and statistics--An easy "way to wealth."

There are many causes, both moral and physical, which concur to render the inhabitants of the south dissimilar to those of the north. Some of these may be traced to climate, more to education and local relations, and yet more to that peculiar state of things which necessarily prevails in a planting country and all newly organized states. The difference is clearly distinguishable through all its grades and ramifications, and so strongly marked as to stamp the southern character with traits sufficiently distinctive to be dignified with the term national.

Physicians make money much more rapidly than lawyers, and sooner retire from practice and assume the planter. They, however, retain their titles, so that medico-planters are now numerous, far out-numbering the regular practitioners, who have not yet climbed high enough up the wall to leap down into a cotton field on the other side. Ministers, who constitute the third item of the diplomaed triad, are not free from the universal mania, and as writing sermons is not coining money, the plantations are like the vocative in Latin pronouns. They, however, by observing the command in Gen. ix. 1, contrive ultimately to reach the same goal. The merchant moves onward floundering through invoices, ledgers, packages, and boxes. The gin-wright and overseer, also have an eye upon this Ultima Thule, while the more wealthy mechanics begin to form visions of cotton fields, and talk knowingly upon the "staple." Even editors have an eye that way!

When this state was first settled, tobacco was exclusively cultivated as the grand staple. But this plant was found to be a great exhauster of the soil; cotton rapidly superseded its culture, and it was shortly banished from the state, and found a home in Tennessee, where it is at present extensively cultivated. It has not for many years been cultivated here. Planters have no room for any thing but their cotton, and corn, on their plantations, and scarcely are they willing to make room even for the latter, as they buy a great part of their corn, annually, from the Kentucky and Indiana flat boats at the "Landing."

To sell cotton in order to buy negroes--to make more cotton to buy more negroes, "ad infinitum," is the aim and direct tendency of all the operations of the thorough-going cotton planter; his whole soul is wrapped up in the pursuit. It is, apparently, the principle by which he "lives, moves, and has his being." There are some who "work" three and four hundred negroes, though the average number is from thirty to one hundred. "This is all very fine," you say, "but the slaves!--there's the rub." True; but without slaves there could be no planters, for whites will not and cannot work cotton plantations, beneath a broiling southern sun.--Without planters there could be no cotton; without cotton no wealth. Without them Mississippi would be a wilderness, and revert to the aboriginal possessors. Annihilate them to-morrow, and this state and every southern state might be bought for a song. I am not advocating this system; but destroy it--and the southern states become at once comparative ciphers in the Union. Northerners, particularly Yankees, are at first a little compunctious on the subject of holding slaves. They soon, however, illustrate the truth contained in the following lines, but slightly changed from their original application. With half-averted eyes they at first view slavery as

"A monster of such horrid mien, That to be hated needs but to be seen: But seen too oft, familiar with her face, They soon endure--and in the end embrace."

Many of the planters are northerners. When they have conquered their prejudices, they become thorough, driving planters, generally giving themselves up to the pursuit more devotedly than the regular-bred planter. Their treatment of their slaves is also far more rigid. Northerners are entirely unaccustomed to their habits, which are perfectly understood and appreciated by southerners, who have been familiar with Africans from childhood; whom they have had for their nurses, play-fellows, and "bearers," and between whom and themselves a reciprocal and very natural attachment exists, which, on the gentleman's part, involuntarily extends to the whole dingy race, exhibited in a kindly feeling and condescending familiarity, for which he receives gratitude in return. On the part of the slave, this attachment is manifested by an affection and faithfulness which only cease with life. Of this state of feeling, which a southern life and education can only give, the northerner knows nothing. Inexperience leads him to hold the reins of government over his novel subjects with an unsparing severity, which the native ruler of these domestic colonies finds wholly unnecessary. The slave always prefers a southern master, because he knows that he will be understood by him. His kindly feelings toward, and sympathies with slaves, as such, are as honourable to his heart as gratifying to the subjects of them. He treats with suitable allowance those peculiarities of their race, which the unpractised northerner will construe into idleness, obstinacy, laziness, revenge, or hatred. There is another cause for their difference of treatment to their slaves. The southerner, habituated to their presence, never fears them, and laughs at the idea. It is the reverse with the northerner: he fears them, and hopes to intimidate them by severity.

The system of credit in this country is peculiar. From new-year's to new-year's is the customary extension of this accommodation, and the first of January, as planters have then usually disposed of their crops, is a season for a general settlement throughout every branch of business. The planters have their commission merchants in New-Orleans and Natchez, who receive and ship their cotton for them, and make advances, if required, upon succeeding crops. Some planters export direct to Liverpool and other ports, though generally they sell or consign to the commission merchants in Natchez, who turn cotton into gold so readily, that one verily would be inclined to think that the philosopher's stone might be concealed within the bales. A planter often commences with nothing, or merely an endorser--buys land and negroes, and, in the strong phraseology of Crockett, "goes ahead." In a few years he becomes opulent. Others, however, and young men at the present time, with little means, commence with a piece of wild land, and five or six, or perhaps not more than two negroes--and go on strengthening and increasing, adding acre to acre, negro to negro, bale to bale, till wealth crowns their labours. Many of the oldest and wealthiest planters began in this manner, when they had to dispute possession of the soil with the Spaniard, the wild beast of the forest, or wilder Indian. They are now reaping the rewards of their youthful toil, in the possession of sons and daughters, lands and influence, and all the luxuries and enjoyments which wealth commands. Their sons, more fortunate in their youth than their sires, receive, from the paternal bounty, plantations and negroes, and at once, without previous toil or care, assume the condition of the refined and luxurious planter. So you perceive that a Yankee farmer and a southern planter are birds of a very different feather. Now in this sad, idolatrous world, where Mammon is worshipped on millions of altars, the swelling hills and noble forests of the south must certainly be "where men ought to worship." If the satirical maxim, "man was made to make money," is true, of which there can be no question--the mint of his operations lies most temptingly between the "Father of waters" and the arrowy Pearl. And men seem to feel the truth of it--or of the maxim of Bacon, that "territory newly acquired and not settled, is a matter of burthen rather than of strength;" for they are spreading over it like a cloud, and occupying the vast tracts called "the Purchase," recently obtained from the Indians, previous to their removal to the west. The tide of emigration is rapidly setting to the north and east portions of the state. Planters, who have exhausted their old lands in this vicinity, are settling and removing to these new lands, which will soon become the richest cotton growing part of Mississippi. Parents do not now think of settling their children on plantations near Natchez, but purchase for them in the upper part of the state. Small towns, with "mighty names," plucked from the ruins of some long since mouldered city of classic fame and memory, are springing up here and there, like mushrooms, amidst the affrighted forests. Sixteen new counties have lately been created in this portion of the state, where so recently the Indian tracked his game and shrieked his war-whoop; and as an agricultural state, the strength and sinew of Mississippi must be hereafter concentrated in this fresher and younger portion of her territory.

FOOTNOTES:

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