There are few things among the works of nature, more remarkable than the _floating prairies_, which are found upon the lakes bordering upon the coast of the Gulf. They seem to have been formed by the natural aggregation of such vegetable matter as lay suspended upon the surface of the water, supplied with a light substratum of soil, partly by its own decay and disintegration, and partly by attracting around its roots and fibres the alluvial treasures with which all these waters abound. From this, various kinds of grass and weeds have sprung up, the roots of which have become firmly interwoven with the subjacent mass, matting it completely together, and giving it all the appearance of a substantial island. It is often several inches in thickness, and so nearly resembles terra firma, that not only the sagacity of man, but even animal instinct has been deceived by it. These floating prairies are sometimes of great extent, and are by no means confined to waters comparatively shoal. They literally cover the deeps in some cases, and a great deal of precaution is necessary to avoid them, for, stable as they look at a distance, they are as unsubstantial as shadows, so that boats may oftentimes be forced through them. They are less trustworthy than quicksands, for the unlucky wight who should adventure himself upon their deceitful appearances, would find himself entangled in a net of interminable extent, from which it would be impossible to extricate himself. It may not be deemed presumption, perhaps, to suggest, that the great Raft on the Red River may be a formation upon the same principle, though upon a more enlarged scale. The stream being sluggish, and the alluvial deposit exceedingly heavy and rich, the accumulation of a productive soil, and the consequent growth and entanglement of roots would be very rapid; and a foundation would ultimately be formed sufficiently stable and permanent, to be travelled with safety. Floating trees from the upper courses, arrested by this obstruction, would imbed themselves in the mass, until, by continual accretions, it should become what it now is, an impassable and almost irremovable barrier to navigation. The Delta of the Mississippi is a region of extensive marshes. For many leagues, the lakes, inlets and sounds, which dissect and diversify that amphibious wilderness, are connected by an inextricable tissue of communications and passes, accessible only by small vessels and bay craft, and impossible to be navigated except by the most experienced pilots. It is a perfect labyrinth of waters, more difficult to unravel than those of Crete and Lemnos. The shore is indented by numberless small bays, or coves, few of which have sufficient depth of water, to afford a shelter for vessels. Berwick and Barritaria Bays are the only ones of any considerable magnitude.