the junction.
‘The water in this part of the river cannot be drank until it has been set aside to allow the mud to settle. The distance from the mouth of the Missouri to the gulf of Mexico is one thousand two hundred and twenty miles, in the course of which it receives from the west, the Merrimac, St. Francis, White, Arkansas, and Red rivers; and from the east, the Kaskaskia, Great Muddy, Ohio, Wolf, and Yazoo. This part of the river is more particularly characterized by snags and sawyers, falling-in banks and islands, sand-bars and mud-banks; and a channel which is shifting by every flood, and of such extreme velocity, that it was formerly thought it could not be navigated by vessels propelled with sails. Subsequent experience has shown this conjecture to be unfounded, although a strong wind is required for its ascent. It is daily navigated in ships of from four hundred to eight hundred tons burden, from the Balize to New Orleans, a distance of one hundred miles, and could be ascended higher were it necessary; but the commerce of the river above New Orleans is now carried on, in a great measure, by steam-boats. The width of the river opposite St. Louis is one mile; it is somewhat less at New Orleans, and still less at its disembochure. A bar at its mouth prevents ships drawing more than eighteen feet water from entering. This river is occupied by different bands of the Chippeway Indians from its sources, to the Buffalo Plains in the vicinity of the upper St. Francis, the precise limit being a matter of dispute, and the cause of the long war between them and the Sioux. The Sioux bands claim from thence to the Prairie des Chiens, and the Foxes and Sacs to the river Desmoines. From this vicinity to the gulf of Mexico the Indian title has been extinguished by the United States’ government, either through purchase, treaty, or conquest, and we have now the complete control of this river and all its tributary streams, with the exception of the upper part of Red river. The wild rice is not found on the waters of the Mississippi south of the forty-first degree of north latitude, nor the Indian reed, or cane, north of the thirty-eighth. These two productions characterize the extremes of this river. It has been observed by McKenzie, that the former is hardly known, or at least does not come to maturity, north of the fiftieth degree of north latitude. The alligator is first seen below the junction of the Arkansas. The paroquet is found as far north as the mouth of the Illinois, and flocks have occasionally been seen as high as Chicago. The name of this river is derived from the Algonquin language, one of the original tongues of our continent, which is now spoken nearly in its primeval purity by the different bands of Chippeways.’
The navigation upon this river is very great. Ships seldom ascend higher than Natchez. It is navigable for boats of the largest size as far as the Ohio. The number of steam-boats upon the Mississippi is about three hundred. Their size is from five hundred and forty tons downwards. The passage from Cincinnati to New Orleans and back has been made in nineteen days. From New Orleans to Louisville the shortest passage has been eight days and two hours, the distance being one thousand six hundred and fifty miles, and against the current. The steam-boats have generally high-pressure power, and many fatal explosions have happened upon these waters. The first steam-vessel here was built in 1810.5
The Missouri rises in the Rocky Mountains in nearly the same parallel with the Mississippi, and about a mile distant from the head-waters of the Columbia. The most authentic information we have yet had of the sources of this mighty river is from its first intrepid American discoverers, Lewis and Clarke. What may properly be called the Missouri, seems to be formed by three considerable branches, which unite not far from the bases of the principal ranges of the mountains. To the northern they gave the name of Jefferson, to the middle Gallatin, and to the southern Madison. All these streams run with great velocity, throwing out large volumes of water; their beds are formed of smooth pebble and gravel, and their waters are perfectly transparent. One hundred and a half miles beyond the forks of the Missouri are the forks of Jefferson river; two subordinate branches of which are called Wisdom and Philanthropy, one coming from the north-west, and the former from the south-east. Wisdom river is fifty yards wide, cold, rapid, and containing a third more water than the Jefferson; it seems to be the drain of the melting snows on the mountains, but is unnavigable on account of its rapidity. One hundred and forty-eight miles farther up is the extreme navigable point of the river in north latitude forty-three degrees thirty minutes and forty-three seconds. Two miles beyond this is a small gap or narrow entrance, formed by the high mountains which recede on each side, at the head of an elevated valley, ten miles long and five broad, so as to form a beautiful cove several miles in diameter. From the foot of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rises with a gentle ascent of half a mile, issues the remotest water of the Mississippi. At the source, we are told that the weather is so cold at the end of August, that water standing in vessels exposed in the night air has been frozen to the depth of a quarter of an inch.
After the junction of the three branches before mentioned, the river continues a considerable distance to be still a foaming mountain torrent. It then spreads into a broad and comparatively gentle stream full of islands. Precipitous peaks of blackish rock frown above the river in perpendicular elevations of a thousand feet. The mountains whose bases it sweeps are covered with pines, cedars and firs; and mountain sheep are seen bounding on their summits where they are apparently inaccessible. In this distance the mountains have an aspect of inexpressible loneliness and grandeur. In the meadows and along the shore the tree most common is the cotton-wood, which with the willow forms almost the exclusive growth of the Missouri.
About forty-seven miles below the spot where the Missouri issues from the mountains to the plains, a most sublime and extraordinary spectacle presents itself, emphatically denominated the Gates of the Rocky Mountains. In ascending the stream it increases in rapidity, depth, and breadth, to the mouth of this formidable pass. Here the rocks approach it on both sides, rising perpendicularly from the edge of the water to the height of one thousand two hundred feet. Near the base they are composed of black granite; but above, the color is of a yellowish, brown, and cream color. Nothing can be imagined more tremendous than the frowning darkness of these rocks, which project over the river, and menace the passenger with instant destruction. For the space of five miles and three quarters, the rocks rise to the above degree of elevation, and the river, three hundred and fifty yards broad, seems to have forced its channel down the solid mass; or, to use Volney’s expression respecting the falls of Niagara, literally to have sawed a passage through this body of hard and solid rock, near six miles in length, being incased as it were, during all this distance, between two walls of one thousand and two hundred feet high. During the whole distance the water is very deep, even at the edges; and for the first three miles, there is not a spot, except one of a few yards, in which a man could stand between the water and the towering perpendicular precipice of the mountain.
The river, for the distance of about seventeen miles, becomes almost a continued cataract. In this distance its perpendicular descent is three hundred and sixty-two feet. The first fall is ninety-eight feet; the second, nineteen; the third, forty-seven; the fourth, twenty-six. Next to the Niagara these falls are the grandest in the world. The river continues rapid for a long distance beyond, but there is not much variation in its appearance till near the mouth of the Platte. That powerful river throws out vast quantities of coarse sand, which contribute to give a new face to the Missouri, which is now much more impeded by islands. The sand, as it is drifted down, adheres in time to some of the projecting points from the shore, and forms a barrier to the mud which at length fills to the same height with the sand-bar itself. As soon as it has acquired a consistency, the willow grows there the first year, and by its roots gives solidity to the whole; with further accumulations the cotton-wood tree next appears, till the soil is gradually raised to a point above the highest freshets. Thus stopped in its course, the water seeks a passage elsewhere, and as the soil on each side is light and yielding, what was only a peninsula becomes gradually an island, and the river compensates the usurpation by encroaching on the adjacent shore. In this way the Missouri, like the Mississippi, is continually cutting off the projections of the shore, and leaving its ancient channel, which may be traced by the deposits of mud and a few stagnant ponds.6
During the whole length of the Missouri below the Platte, the soil is generally excellent, and although the timber is scarce, there is still sufficient for the purpose of settlers. But beyond that river, although the soil is still rich, yet the almost total absence of timber, and particularly
