length becomes so narrow that a single long tree may reach from side to side, and the remaining space is then soon choked up by a quantity of other timber.
"Unfortunately for the navigation of the Mississippi," observes Captain Hall, "some of the largest trunks, after being cast down from the position on which they grew, get their roots entangled with the bottom of the river, where they remain anchored, as it were, in the mud. The force of the current naturally gives their tops a tendency downwards, and, by its flowing past, soon strips them of their leaves and branches. These fixtures, called snags, or planters, are extremely dangerous to the steam-vessels proceeding up the stream, in which they lie like a lance in rest, concealed beneath the water, with their sharp ends pointed directly against the bows of the vessels coming up. For the most part these formidable snags remain so still that they can be detected only by a slight ripple above them, not perceptible to inexperienced eyes. Sometimes, however, they vibrate up and down, alternately showing their heads above the surface and bathing them beneath it."[360] So imminent, until lately, was the danger caused by these obstructions, that almost all the boats on the Mississippi were constructed on a particular plan, to guard against fatal accidents; but in the last ten years, by the aid of the power of steam and the machinery of a snag-boat, as it is called, the greater number of these trunks of trees have been drawn out of the mud.[361]
The prodigious quantity of wood annually drifted down by the Mississippi and its tributaries, is a subject of geological interest, not merely as illustrating the manner in which abundance of vegetable matter becomes, in the ordinary course of nature, imbedded in submarine and estuary deposits, but as attesting the constant destruction of soil and transportation of matter to lower levels by the tendency of rivers to shift their courses. Each of these trees must have required many years, some of them centuries, to attain their full size; the soil, therefore, whereon they grew, after remaining undisturbed for long periods, is ultimately torn up and swept away.
It is also found in excavating at New Orleans, even at the depth of several yards below the level of the sea, that the soil of the delta contains innumerable trunks of trees, layer above layer, some prostrate, as if drifted, others broken off near the bottom, but remaining still erect, and with their roots spreading on all sides, as if in their natural position. In such situations they appeared to me to indicate a sinking of the ground, as the trees must formerly have grown in marshes above the sea-level. In the higher parts of the alluvial plain, for many hundred miles above the head of the delta, similar stools and roots of trees are also seen buried in stiff clay at different levels, one above the other, and exposed to view in the banks at low water. They point clearly to the successive growth of forests in the extensive swamps of the plain, where the ground was slowly raised, year after year, by the mud thrown down during inundations. These roots and stools belong chiefly to the deciduous cypress (Taxodium distichum), and other swamp-trees, and they bear testimony to the constant shifting of the course of the great river, which is always excavating land originally formed at some distance from its banks.