be towed by steam-tugs to their destination; but, having a fair breeze,
and no tug at hand, we were indebted to our sails alone. The motion was
exceedingly pleasant, after the tossings we had had in the Gulf of
Mexico. The vessel glided smoothly along, and new objects presented
themselves continually on either hand.

My enjoyment of the scenery, however, was soon marred by an attack of
fever and ague, which sent me below. While I was down, several
steam-tugs towing vessels down the river met us. Their unearthly groans
filled me with terror. Their noise was not that of puff--puff
--puff--puff, like all the other steamers that I had ever
heard, but something composed of a groan, a grunt, and a
growl--deep-drawn, as from the very caverns of Vulcan, and that at
awfully-solemn intervals,--grunt--grunt--grunt--grunt! This
peculiarity, I was told, arose from their "high-pressure" engines. The
sound, thus explained, brought to my recollection all the dreadful
stories of boiler explosions with which the very name of the
Mississippi had become associated in my mind. But (thought I) they have
surely learned wisdom from experience, and are become more skilful or
more cautious than they used to be!

While I was engaged with these reflections, our captain came down, and
handed me a couple of New Orleans papers, which he had just received
from the pilot. Here was a treat; and, feeling a little better, I began
with eagerness to open one of them out. It was the _New Orleans Bee_ of
January 23; and, _horresco referens_, the first thing that caught my
eye was the following paragraph:--

"STEAM-BOAT EXPLOSION.--LOSS OF LIFE.--Captain Haviland, of the
steam-ship 'Galveston,' from Galveston, reports that the tow-boat