So she floated along, and eyed the river banks curiously. There were dark banks, covered with tall trees along which the current pulled, cutting with the suggestion of a saw's teeth. There were miles-wide sandbars opposite these long, curving, dark banks—beautiful golden sandbars on which the sunshine reflected as the moon reflects upon water. Between woods were openings and clearings, and back on some of these west side clearings she saw long, level dirt embankments, which she knew were levees. On the east side were hills and ridges, but no levees.
Here and there she saw little houseboats moored in eddies, and at intervals she saw gasolene ferryboats crossing the river. She saw occasional buildings on the banks, and passed a little settlement or two. But all these signs of humanity were far away, and they but added to the immensity of the Mississippi River upon whose flood she was floating down. It was of an overwhelming size, that old river! It spread out till it was a mile wide, and when she looked up or down stream, she looked into miles distance where the river turned around a bend under a dancing haze of sheen; down stream, the grade was visibly down, and the plane of the surface sloped and gave the voyager the feeling that she was sliding into oblivion, a mere fleck on a vast, living torrent.
