They begged for money as the natives usually do,
but receive with equal indifference the coin or a refusal.

_Friday, 20th._--The ship Shakspeare, according to the owners' promise,
was to sail this day, but sail she did not. Passed an uncomfortable
morning from being kept the best part of it in uncertainty. Almost wish
I had proceeded two days ago by the route through Florida. H----s
gravely assures me it is all for the best, and J. H----n coolly echoes
his philosophy, although both one and the other of the villains are "as
hot Jacks" in their mood "as any in all Italy," Day very sultry, or, as
a countryman of mine here, calls this sort of muggy heat, "Vile
mucilaginous weather."

_21st._--Again a delay, and a put-off till to-morrow; three of our
passengers now deserted, taking the steamer up the river for Louisville;
was half tempted to follow their example, but don't like to cut my
Shakspeare. I verily think, were the ship called by any other name, I
would quit the mess. The bard was wrong when he made Juliet say "what's
in a name?"

The city is hot and humid, as though it were washing-day above, and the
sun's rays intercepted by wet blankets. In the evening, strong symptoms
of a refreshing thunder burst: sat till after midnight _sans_ coat or
cravat, striving to keep cool; about that time the rain began to
descend, and soon after up came a breeze, under whose influence I crept
beneath my musquito curtain to fall sound asleep in five minutes.

_Sunday._--Called up early. Shakspeare about to quit the Levee: find out
that I have slept through a regular tornado, for to that complexion am I
informed the night breeze came at last. Day clear, fresh, and pure, like
a fine June morning at home; a difference of twenty-eight degrees
between to-day and yesterday; got a hasty breakfast, and learned that
the wind "sits in the shoulder of our sail," or rather of our steam,
since under such convoy do we seek the sea.

At eight A.M. got on to the Levee, and found the Shakspeare already
linked to her fiery mate; bade farewell to the many friends who have
daily attended to add a last link to the chain of kind recollections in
which they have bound my memory.

The market, close by which we lay, was, being Sunday morning, crowded by
a chequered assemblage of European, Quadroon, Negro, and Indian, all
gabbling, pushing, and purchasing in company. We unmoored in very
capital style, though pretty closely jammed, for a ship of seven hu