rs, 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
lan