_Sunday, 15th._--Snow falling, the first I have seen in the South; our boat constantly stopping to load cotton, so that we, at the close of the day, have made only some twenty miles: the night came on clear, and tolerably mild. By eight o'clock P.M. we had received from our several halts one thousand bales of the staple, all of which were stowed away upon our deck, galleries, &c. till daylight could no longer be expected to visit us--even the doors were blocked up, as in the Alabama. Thank Heaven! our present imprisonment is for a shorter period, our worthy captain assuring us that by daylight on Tuesday we shall be alongside the Levee.
At one of our landing-places we found a couple of outcast-looking white-men bivouacking beneath a tree before a half-burned log, with a couple of tin saucepans standing near: one of the precious pair was extended on the damp soil, bare-headed, with a blanket rolled about him; the other sat, Indian-like, wrapped in a similar robe. For the three hours we were delayed, whilst loading three hundred bales of cotton, I do not think either of them moved; they were as miserable specimens of humanity as might be met with. I could not help contrasting these members of the privileged class with a gang of stout slaves who were employing their Sunday's leisure in assisting to load the boat, for which service they each received about two shillings sterling: I need hardly say the contrast was decidedly in favour of the negroes.
_Monday, 16th._--Day fine, and not so cold: passed Bayou Sarah, as high up as which the tide flows, rising about six inches once in twenty-four hours.
Opposite Prophet's Island saw a large square ark, moored to the bank, surmounted by a pole from which a white flag was fluttering. I was in great hopes this was the Mississippi theatre, which I knew from report to be somewhere in this latitude on its annual voyage to New Orleans; but it turned out to be the store of a Yankee pedlar on a trading voyage.
This floating theatre, about which I make constant inquiry, and which I yet hope to fall in with, is not the least original or singular speculation ventured on these waters. It was projected and is carried on by the Elder Chapman, well known for many years as a Covent Garden actor: his practice is to have a building suitable to his views erected upon a raft at some point high up the Mississippi, or on one of its tributaries, whence he takes his departure early in the fall, with scenery, dresses, and decorations, all prepared for representation. At each village or large plantation he hoists banner and blows trumpet, and few who love a play suffer his ark to pass the door, since they know it is to return no more until the next year; for, however easy may prove the downward course of the drama's temple, to retrograde, upwards, is quite beyond its power. Sometimes a large steamer from Louisville, with a thousand souls on board, will command a play whilst taking in fuel, when the profit must be famous. The _corps dramatique_ is, I believe, principally composed of members of his own family, which is numerous, and, despite of alligators and yellow fever, likely to increase and flourish. When the Mississippi theatre reaches New Orleans, it is abandoned and sold for fire-wood; the manager and troop returning in a steamer to build a new one, with such improvements as increased experience may have suggested.