more on the right and left.

"While we stood on deck a small boat passed, and a sailor very gleefully
called out the soundings as he threw the lead, 'Eight and a half-nine.'

"But we are still high and dry now at two o'clock P.M. They are shaking
the steamer, and making efforts to move her. They say if she gets over
this, there is no worse place for her to meet.

"I asked the captain of what the bottom is composed, and he says, 'Of
mud, rocks, snags, and everything.'

"He is now moving very cautiously, and the boat has an unpleasant
tremulous motion.

"March 20. Latitude about thirty-eight degrees. We are just where we
stopped at noon yesterday--there is no change, and of course no event.
One of our crew killed a 'possum yesterday, and another boat stopped
near us this morning, and seems likely to lie as long as we do on the
sand-bar.

"We read Shakspere this morning after breakfast, and then betook
ourselves to the wheel-house to look at the scenery again. While there a
little colored boy came to us bearing a waiter of oranges, and telling
us that the captain sent them with his compliments. We ate them
greedily, because we had nothing else to do.

"21st. Still the sand-bar. No hope of getting off. We heard the pilot
hail a steamboat which was going up to St. Louis, and tell them to send
on a lighter, and I suppose we must wait for that.... It is my private