ozen steamers of all classes. The
transports and the soldiers were up the Tennessee, the mortars were
bombarding Island Number Ten, and the gun-boats were on duty where
their services were most needed. The journalists had become war
correspondents in earnest, and were scattered to the points of
greatest interest.

Cairo had become a vast depot of supplies for the armies operating
on the Mississippi and its tributaries. The commander of the post was
more a forwarding agent than a military officer. The only steamers at
the levee were loading for the armies. Cairo was a map of busy, muddy
life.

The opening year found Cairo exulting in its deep and all-pervading
mud. There was mud everywhere.

Levee, sidewalks, floors, windows, tables, bed-clothing, all were
covered with it. On the levee it varied from six to thirty inches
in depth. The luckless individual whose duties obliged him to make
frequent journeys from the steamboat landing to the principal hotel,
became intimately acquainted with its character.

Sad, unfortunate, derided Cairo! Your visitors depart with unpleasant
memories. Only your inhabitants, who hold titles to corner lots, speak
loudly in your praise. When it rains, and sometimes when it does not,
your levee is unpleasant to walk upon. Your sidewalks are dangerous,
and your streets are unclean. John Phenix declared you destitute of
honesty. Dickens asserted that your physical and moral foundations
were insecurely laid. Russell did not praise you, and Trollope uttered
much to your discredit. Your musquitos are large, numerous, and
hungry. Your atmosphere does not resemble the spicy breezes that blow
soft o'er Ceylon's isle. Your energy and enterprise are commendable,
and your geographical location is excellent, but you can never become
a rival to Saratoga or Newport.

Cairo is built in a basin formed by constructing a levee to inclose
the peninsula at the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.
Before the erection of the levee, this peninsula was overflowed by the
rise of either river. Sometimes, in unusual floods, the waters reach
the top of the embankment, and manage to fill the basin. At the
time of my visit, the Ohio was rising rapidly. The inhabitants were
alarmed, as the water was gradually gaining upon them. After a time it
took possession of the basin, enabling people to navigate the streets
and front yards in skiffs, and exchange salutations from house-tops
or upper windows. Many were dri