A wonderful compilation of tales, photos, and artifacts from the days when steamboats ran the rivers through my neck of the woods. Log rafts, too. (It's a good thing I didn't read this book when I was 15. I'd have been gone, down the river, never to be seen again. ...The prospect still has a strong pull to it.)
The Altamaha/Oconee/Ocmulgee/Ohoopee Rivers are mysterious, storied places. Sadly, one shadow always darkens any of their histories: there were once mighty forests along their banks, and down the trees went--down to the ground, down the river, then down into the holds of international ships. There must be Georgia pine lumber in buildings all over Europe. That seems to be what happened: the lumber to England, and the money to New England.