cow." He took his place beside the bar when "somewhere about the mouth of the Ohio," and maintained his position and his legs, though "constantly liquoring," "all the way down to Orleans." With him alcohol was not an intoxicating liquor; his mind, to be sure, floated about in its mortality like a slice of lemon in a bowl of punch, but the muscles, the hard tendons of the man, were never weakened, never gave way at the joints. Just before "the end of the trip" there came on the boat an individual physically the very opposite of the hero we have described, for he was short, phlegmatic, and disposed to puff up; his business, however, had been, and was, simply to drink. The two worthies met: it was Napoleon and Wellington for the first time face to face. The social glass now flew fast and furious: genial sympathetic souls had met-the passengers became interested in the joust-it was a sublime exhibition of what outrages the human frame could bear up against. The tall man throughout was "unphased"-the dewy and least compact one surrendered! The defeated one, with regret stamped upon his face, and deep, heart-rending disappointment in his tones, acknowledged himself "at his own game fairly conquered;" and as he sank into unconsciousness, he seized his opponent by the hand and murmured, "My friend, the boat is coming to the end of its trip and we must part, but don't think, if I had a fair chance, that you can outdrink me. No, sir-ee! Take a six days' trip, and see what would become of it; under such circumstances you'd be a mere teetotaller compared with me. In all that pertains to getting tight, I'd pass you under weigh." Quite different, but equally original in his character, was Bob Lawton. His face was round, and would have been considered rather red, were it not for the violent scarlet tint on the end of his nose, which, by contrast, gave the rest of his countenance a delicate roseate hue. He was rotund in form, and with a place to lean against, was graceful to the last degree. It was Bob's theory that there was no poetry in the Western country, and he gave his reasons after this novel fashion: "Gentlemen, what is poetry but the truth exaggerated? Here it can never arrive at any perfection. What chance is there for exaggeration in the Great West, where the reality is incomprehensible? A territory as large as clas sic Greece annually caves into the Mississippi, | equally agree with his constitution; his laugh is and who notices it? Things to be poetical catching, his voice exhilarating; the man, genermust be got up on a small scale. The Tiber, ally and particularly, is genial as sunshine. His the Seine, the Thames, appear well in poetry, appearance at all times is glorious, but we once but such streams are overlooked in the West; saw him in a moment of particular effulgence. they don't afford water enough to keep up an expansive duck pond-would be mere drains to a squatter's pre-emption. I have heard of frontiersmen who were poetical, because their minds expanded beyond the surrounding physical grandeur. Books are not yet large enough to contain their ideas-steam is not strong enough to impress them on the historic page. These men have no definite sense of limitation, know of no locality-they sleep not upon a couch, but upon the Government lands'-they live upon the spontaneous productions of the earth, and make a drinking-cup of the mighty Mississippi. Settlements within fifty miles of them occasion the feeling of overcrowded population, and they are obliged, if they would exist at all, to penetrate more deeply into the forests-they have an instinctive dread of crowds-with them, civilization means law and calomel." No one ever saw Bob out of humor-an ache or a pain never visited his body-he is as unimpressive to disease as an alligator's hide is to water. The malaria of the swamps, and the bracing airs of the high lands of Tennessee, BOB LAWTON IN HIS GLORY. He was, on the occasion alluded to, reclining with Phidian grace against the shelf of the steamboat bar. In his right hand was a fragrant Havana; his left was occupied with a delicate bouquet of mint, confined in a crystal goblet, and nourished by some Boston ice, refined sugar, and most excellent dark-colored brandy. From among the vernal leaves protruded a golden-tinted straw, which proceeded upward, reposing its extremity upon his under lip. Thus disposed of, he looked out upon the world with a happy, fraternal, patronizing eye, such as might be supposed to peep from under the lids of contentment itself. While thus poised, a number of "hoosiers," sallow and thin from "agee," came to the bar, and Bob, with his innate hospitality, requested them all to "smile" at his expense. The invitation was accepted, and the ceremony was cordially performed. A variety of small talk ensued, when one of the enraptured "up countrymen" suggested "I suppose, stranger, you hail from old Kaintuck?" "Not a bit of it!" returned Bob, who was full of State pride. "I'm from Louisiana." "Wal, I reckon I am sort o' taken back," said the querist, "for I thought people who live so far down the Massissip was thin and yaller." "No!"-returned Bob, with considerable animation, and at the same time mechanically renewing his "bouquet," and getting his "constituents" to follow his example-"the people in my country are neither thin nor yaller,' except," and he put great emphasis on the word, "except they get the yaller fever." "The yaller fever!" exclaimed the crowd in one breath, drawing back, and swallowing the contents of their tumblers as if to prevent contagion. "The yaller fever," slowly repeated Bob, his face wreathed in smiles, as if the words suggested the pleasantest of ideas. "You don't mean to say that it is raging, do you?" alarmedly asked a dozen persons at once. "I say nothing about it, but it is well to be cautious," re turned Bob; and perfectly unconscious of the effect he was producing, he went on: "It don't take the acclimated nor the old uns; none of you need be afraid of it; but let it catch hold of a crowd of 'Johnny come latelys,' and it plants them at once. Them's the boys that turn saffron-colored about the gills, and go off as easy as 'sazarac' in an election crowd. It's hard on them that's subject to the 'back agee,' for you see then the constitution doesn't withstand the miasma-even the quarantine can't save 'em." Bob having thus delivered himself, and most summarily dissipated his audience, he next proceeded to "do something else," and by close at tention to it, managed to pleasantly pass away his "valuable time." The story is familiar of the man who took passage in a flat-boat from Pittsburg bound for New Orleans. He passed many dreary, listless days on his way down the Ohio and Mississippi, and seemed to be desponding for want of excitement. Superficially, he was quiet and inoffensive; practically, he was perfectly good-natared and kindly disposed. In course of time the craft upon which he was a passenger put into Napoleon, in the State of Arkansas, "for groceries." At the moment there was a general fight extending all along the "front of the town," which at that time consisted of a single house. The unhappy passenger, after fidgeting about, and jerking his feet up and down, as if he were walking on hot bricks, turned to a "used-up spectator" and observed: "Stranger, is this a free fight?" The reply was prompt and to the point: "It ar; and if you wish to go in, don't stand on ceremony." The wayfarer did "go in," and in less time than we can relate the circumstance he was THE MAN OF THE FREE FIGHT. literally "chawed up." Groping his way down to the flat, his hair gone, his eye closed, his lips swollen, and his face generally "mapped out," he sat himself down on a chicken coop, and soliloquized thus: "So this is Na-po-le-on, is it?-upon my word it's a lively place, and the only one at which I have had any fun since I left home." Insensible as this man was to wounds and bruises, we think that we once met with a more striking example in a "half-horse, half-alligator" fellow, who by some accident was cut up with twenty dirk-knife wounds at least, some of which, according to his own statement, "reached into the hollow." On our sympathizing with his deplorable condition, he cut us short by remarking: "Stranger, don't be alarmed about these scratches-I've mighty healing flesh." The negroes of the Mississippi are happy specimens of God's image done up in ebony, and in many lighter colors, and they have frequently a deserved reputation as "deck-hands." It is astonishing what an amount of hard work they will perform, and yet retain their vivacity and spirits. If they have the good fortune to be employed on a "bully boat," they take a lively personal interest in its success, and become as much a part of the propelling machinery as the engines. Their custom of singing at all important landings, has a pleasing and novel effect, and if stimulated by an appreciative audience, they will roll forth a volume of vocal sounds that, for harmony and pathos, sink into obscurity the best performances of "imitative Ethiopians." With professional flat-boatmen they are always favorites, and at night, when the "old ark" is tied up, their acme of human felicity is a game of "old sledge," enlivened by a fiddle. On such occasions the master of the instrument will touch off the "Arkansas traveler," and then gradually sliding into a "Virginia hoe-down," he will be accompanied by a genuine darkie keeping time, on the light fantastic heel-andtoe tap. It is a curious and exciting struggle between cat-gut and human muscle. It affects not only the performers, but the contagion spreads to the spectators, who display their delight by words of rough encouragement, and exclamations of laughter, which fairly echo along the otherwise silent shores. But the glory of the darkie deck-hand is in "wooding up." On a first-class steamer there may be sixty hands engaged in this exciting physical contest. The passengers extend themselves along the guards as spectators, and present a brilliant array. The performance consists in piling on the boat one hundred cords of wood in the shortest possible space of time. The steam-boilers seem to sympathize at the sight of the fuel, and occasionally breathe forth immense sighs of admiration-the pilot increases the noise by unearthly screams on the "alarm whistle." The mate of the boat, for want of something better to do, divides his time between exhortations of "Oh, bring them shavings along!" "Don't go to sleep at this frolic," and by swearing of such monstrous proportions, that even very good men are puzzled to decide whether he is really profane or simply ridiculous. The ZEPHYR SAM "LOADED UP." laborers pursue their calling with the precision of clock-work. Upon the shoulders of each are piled up innumerable sticks of wood, which are thus carried from the land into the capacious bowels of the steamer. The "last loads" are shouldered-the last effort to carry "the largest pile" is indulged in. "Zephyr Sam," amidst the united cheers of the admiring spectators, propels his load, and, for the thousandth time, wins the palm of being a "model darkie," "the prince of deck hands." Old Captain Scott, before steamboats were invented, had been a flat-boatman and pilot, and his innumerable trips down the Ohio and Mississippi gave him a perfect knowledge of the dangers of the navigation. He was once heard to say, "that he could look in his hand and imagine that he saw every 'snag,' 'sawyer,' sand bar, and cut-off,' from Pittsburg to New Orleans." He never lost his presence of mind but once, and the circumstance is related as follows: One dark night, conceiving that his boat (which was one of the very largest size), was running with unusual risk, he descended from his wonted look-out on the hurricane deck and seated himself on the capstan. From great fatigue he finally fell asleep, when some wags perceiving it, quietly turned the capstan, bringing the captain's face from the bow around to the stern of the boat. On waking, he was greeted, of course, with a view of the fires and boilers of his own steamer. Raising his hands in consternation, he sang out, CAPTAIN SCOTT. "Pilot, for God's sake give the engine a lick back-here's a first-class boat coming right down upon us, and if she, with all her steam on, hits the Emperor in the bows, it will smash up every insurance office between h-1 and Saint Louis!" tion of any of these subjects always excites the ire of the raftsmen, and for the ten thousandth time, and for the same cause, they get in a passion and hurl back abuse. They also have their seasons of real trouble; the sand-bars check their onward course, and the swift running "shutes" "suck them" into unknown and impossible-toget-out-of waters. Their time of triumph, however, arrives when some brisk wind drives them crashing against the sides of a flat-boat, and if they can "put a scare" on a first-class steamer, their joy is complete. The wood-yards on the Mississippi are sometimes of a size corresponding with the magnitude of their surroundings. We have seen twenty thousand cords of wood in one "pile," the value of which as it lay upon the ground was seventy thousand dollars. We can hardly comprehend what must be the aggregate amount of all the fuel consumed in one year upon the Western waters. These large yards, however, result from a combination of capital and enterprise, and are exceptions rather than characteristic. It is quite a relief to the traveler, after many days' confinement, to get out at one of these temporary landing-places, and if the chief woodchopper be at leisure, much valuable information is often obtained. It is a singular fact, that when a steamer hails a wood-yard no direct answer to any question is ever obtained. We believe there has been no exception to this rule even in the memory of the oldest steamboat captain on the river. The steamer is desirous of getting "ash wood," provided it is "seasoned." The captain, as his boat ap The rafts on the Mississippi are crude masses of cypress timber, which find ready sale at the numerous saw-mills in the vicinity of New Orleans. By an accepted law of the river, every thing is obliged to get out of the way of a raft. We don't know of any persons more independent than the first officers of these prim-proaches the shore, places his hands to his itive flotillas. Their chief unhappiness is occasioned by the sneering remarks made by spectators, relative to the speed of rafts, and allusions to their propensity to leak, and of the necessity of having the bottom pumped dry. The men mouth, and forming them into a tube, calls out, "What kind of wood is that?" The reply comes back, "Cord wood." The captain, still in pursuit of information |