The Swamp Doctor's Adventures in The South-West: Containing the Whole of The Louisiana Swamp Doctor; Streaks of Squatter Life; and Far-Western Scenes; In a Series of Forty-Two Humorous Southern and Western Sketches, Descriptive of Incidents and CharacterRobb, John S.
General
The Swamp Doctor's Adventures in The South-West: Containing the Whole of The Louisiana Swamp Doctor; Streaks of Squatter Life; and Far-Western Scenes; In a Series of Forty-Two Humorous Southern and Western Sketches, Descriptive of Incidents and Character
Robb, John S.
Southwest, Old -- Social life and customs
It is a root, when fresh, of a powerful and penetrating odour peculiar
to its species; permeable things, by remaining in contact with it,
become imbued with its characteristic odour, which they retain for a
considerable length of time. The root possesses great attraction for the
cat tribe, who smell it at a great distance, and resort to it eagerly,
devouring its fragrant fibres with great apparent relish. The panther of
our continent is closely allied to the domestic cat, susceptible, like
it, of taming, active, treacherous, and cunning,--only in proportion to
its increased size, resembling it in its tastes, and like it, fearless
when aroused by appetite or hunger.
I had proceeded some distance, when it began to appear to me that
the path I was travelling was not the one by which I had come in the
morning, but as it was some miles back to the fork, and as far as I
could judge, I seemed to be going in the right direction, I determined
to proceed. So, cheering myself with a song, I tried to banish
disagreeable reflections, and persuade myself that some recognised
object would soon assure me I was in the right track.
It was now near sunset, and, in despite of my endeavours to the
contrary, I was becoming somewhat anxious, as a gloom was already
settling over the swamp, when, to my joy, I found myself upon the bayou
or slough, whose illusory appearance I have noted. Not remarking that
the path, instead of crossing, turned up the bank, I gave my horse
the rein and he sprang into the stream; but what was my dismay, when I
found, by the struggling of my poor steed for releasement, that I was
mistaken in the slough, and that in this instance, the proximity of the
“knees” to the surface was no illusion. He had fortunately become wedged
between two of the largest, which sustained his weight, and saved him
from being impaled upon those beneath. I had nothing in the shape of
a cutting instrument, except a small penknife, which, under the
circumstances, could afford me no aid. Dismounting in the water, by
main strength I released my horse, and, as the sun withdrew its last
lingering ray from the topmost boughs of the trees--jaded, wet, and
exhausted--we stood in the midst of the swamp, on the banks of an
unknown' slough, without food, fire, or weapon--lost! lost! lost!
I could form no idea where I was, and go as I would, it would be
hap-hazard if I went right, and the probabilities were that I would have
to spend the night in the drearisome place.
I soon discovered that it was losing time and gaining nothing to stand
there. So I determined, as I was mightily down in the mouth, my course
should accord with my feelings, so down the slough I started.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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