I found I had managed to throw my desk between the two steamers, and it was therefore irrecoverably lost, with all my papers, letters of credit, journal, &c.  I had also lost everything else except what T had on,—­rifle, guns, clothes,—­all were gone.  A few things, such as money, watch, note-book, which I always kept in my pockets, were all my stock in trade.  Fortunately, my friend had saved his papers, and thus our identity could be established at New Orleans.  In the course of a few hours we saw a fine steamer coming down the river, in which we embarked, and again pursued our journey south.

In the afternoon we passed several pieces of the wreck:  the shores were covered with the casks of pork and mustang liniment which had formed a great part of our freight.  At one place, a large portion of the wreck, was made fast ashore, and being plundered by the settlers on the bank; boxes and trunks were all broken open and cleaned out; little boats were flying across the river full of pork and other prizes:  it was an universal scramble in all directions, and appeared to be considered as lawful plunder by them as if they had been Cornish wreckers.  It was hopeless to try and recover anything, so we continued our journey, and left our goods to the tender mercies of the landsharks on the banks.  Having lost all my papers, I was obliged to forego the pleasure I had anticipated from a visit to Natchez, or rather to the gentlemen and plantations in the neighbourhood.

As you approach the lower part of the river, signs of human life become more frequent; the forest recedes, the banks of the river are leveed up, and legions of Uncle Tom’s Cabins stud the banks; some, clustered near the more luxurious but still simple building wherein dwells the proprietor, surrounded by orange groves and the rich flowers and foliage of southern climes.  These little spots appear like bright oases in the otherwise dreary, uninteresting flats, which extend from the banks on either side; yet it is only as a scene they are uninteresting; as a reality, they have a peculiar interest.  On these Hats the negro slave expends his labour and closes his life, and from the bitter of his career the white man draws the sweet luxury of his own.  How few reflect upon this, even for as many seconds as it takes to melt the clarified lump in the smoking bohea.  But here we are at La Fayette, which is the upper or American end of New Orleans, where steamers always stop if there are any cattle on board, which being our case, we preferred landing and taking an omnibus, to waiting for the discharge of the live-stock.  Half an hour brought us to the St. Louis Hotel, and there you may sit down a minute or two while I make some observations on the steaming in Western rivers.

The whole system and management is a most grievous reproach to the American nation.  I speak not of the architecture, which is good, nor of the absurd inconsistency in uniting such palatial appearance with such absolute discomfort, which perhaps, with their institutions and ideas, it would be very difficult to remedy.  My observations refer more to that by which human life is endangered, and the valuable produce of human labour recklessly destroyed.  The following extract from a Louisville paper will more than justify any animadversions which I may make:—­