"few
lurid mornings."

A third scene occurred as the boat, facing westward, reached the head of
President's Island, fairest island in all the river, and coming into
full view of Memphis, a short league beyond, tolled her solemn bell and
landed at Pickering. Others on the lower deck besides Madame Marburg had
passed away in the night but had either been laid under the wet sands of
the water's edge in some wild grove down-stream or were not quite in
time, so to speak, for this landing. Contemplated from each deck by a
numerous gathering and from the pilot-house by Watson, Mrs. Gilmore, and
"Harriet," a small procession followed the priest and the three
boxes--borne by white-jackets--ashore and out of sight where a small
wooden church spire, inland behind the bluff, peered over its crest.
Madame Hayle leaned on Julian's arm, Ramsey on Lucian's, Hugh walked
with Marburg, the senator with the general, the first clerk with Ned,
the Californian with the cub pilot. By and by they returned, outwardly
unburdened, and the moment the last tread, the Californian's, was on the
stage, Watson's bells jingled and the _Votaress_ swung out and moved up
to the Memphis wharf-boat. But there Hugh, the first clerk, the steward,
and the doctor went up into town, and it was a long hour before they
reappeared and the black smoke billowed again from her chimneys and she
backed out and started up and away around "Paddy's Hen and Chickens."

The "family of that name"--to quote Watson--were a group of four islands
so entitled from earliest flatboat days, clustered in the river, just
above the town. Since that day two of the chicks have flown, or grown,
to the mainland, and the mother bird is now merely the "Old Hen" with
one "Chicken Island," while "Poor Paddy," we are told, "works on the
railway."

In its first forty leagues above Memphis the river went--has gone--still
goes--through more violent writhings than in any like part of its whole
course, running almost twenty crazy miles to make two sane ones--made
finally, in the republic's hundredth year, by Centennial Cut-off. On an
average there was an island for every four miles of river, or, say,
three for every hour of the _Votaress's_ progress, and in this high
water she was running all their chutes. A great resource such incidents
were, on that particular day, to Ramsey. At any moment when conversation
needed to be started, stopped, or turned, here was her chance. Some of
the islands covered