The evening closed upon us, sailing pleasantly up the Mississippi. Having a beautiful moonlight night, we kept on our way. About seven o'clock we overtook a small fishing-boat laden with oysters. In consideration of our allowing them—not the oysters, but the boatmen—to fasten a rope to our vessel, to help them on, they gave us a generous and refreshing supply. But such oysters! In neither size nor shape did they resemble those of the Old World. As to size, they were gigantic,—as to shape, not unlike the human foot. They abound not far from the mouth of the river, and many men obtain a livelihood by carrying them up to the New Orleans market. The mode of cooking adopted in this instance was that of putting them on the fire till the shells opened. To our taste, they were not in flavour to be compared to the London oysters; but we did not venture to tell our American captain so. We had yet, however, to taste the deliciously-cooked oysters of the northern cities.

About 10 p.m., the breeze having in a great measure died away, our captain thought it imprudent to attempt to “go a-head” further that night, and the anchor was cast. We were now fifty miles above the entrance of the river.

Early next day the anchor was raised, the sails were unfurled, and we again moved along. About 8 a. m., through the narrowness of the river, the rapidity of the stream, and other causes, our “smart” captain, who had chuckled vastly on passing all other ships in the river,—and especially British ships,—ran his own vessel right ashore!