officer's conduct was in
violation of the rules of propriety, and received the answer:

"I have fought to help open the Mississippi, and, by ----, I am going
to enjoy it."

The careless display of the butt of a revolver, while he gave this
answer, left the pleasure-seeker master of the situation. I am sorry
to say that occurrences of a similar character were very frequent in
the past three years. With the end of the war it is to be hoped that
the character of Mississippi travel will be improved.

In May, 1861, the Rebels blockaded the Mississippi at Memphis. In the
same month the National forces established a blockade at Cairo. In
July, '63, the capture of Vicksburg and Port Hudson removed the last
Rebel obstruction. The _Imperial_ was the first passenger boat to
descend the river, after the reopening of navigation.

Up to within a few months of the close of the Rebellion, steamers
plying on the river were in constant, danger of destruction by Rebel
batteries. The Rebel Secretary of War ordered these batteries placed
along the Mississippi, in the hope of stopping all travel by that
route. His plan was unsuccessful. Equally so was the barbarous
practice of burning passenger steamboats while in motion between
landing-places. On transports fired upon by guerrillas (or Rebels),
about a hundred persons were killed and as many wounded. A due
proportion of these were women and children. On steamboats burned by
Rebel incendiaries, probably a hundred and fifty lives were lost. This
does not include the dead by the terrible disaster to the _Sultana_.
It is supposed that this boat was blown up by a Rebel torpedo in her
coal.

It was my fortune to be a passenger on the steamer _Von Phul_, which
left New Orleans for St. Louis on the evening of December 7th, 1863.
I had been for some time traveling up and down the Mississippi, and
running the gauntlet between Rebel batteries on either shore. There
was some risk attending my travels, but up to that time I escaped
unharmed.

On the afternoon of the 8th, when the boat was about eight miles above
Bayou Sara, I experienced a new sensation.

Seated at a table in the cabin, and busily engaged in writing, I heard
a heavy crash over my head, almost instantly followed by another. My
first thought was that the chimneys or some part of the pilot-house
had fallen, and I half looked to see the roof of the cabin tumbling
in. I saw the passengers running from the cabin, and heard some one