ere 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