ached Madison
last night and laid to till morning. We are now riding along at a fine
rate. The clouds that hung above us all the morning are partly cleared
away, and the warm sun shining through at intervals, making it rather
pleasant and it would be really so, were it not for a cold breeze that
is now up. The trees upon the banks of the river begin to assume the
appearance of spring, putting forth their fresh buds and lending to the
prospect some degree of cheerfulness. The banks of the river are here
high and abrupt, and well timbered, though the general prospect is
rather monotonous.

SUNDAY, APRIL 7.

I made no note of yesterday, having seen nothing of particular interest.
The river banks become lower as we descend. Today I have seen fruit
trees in blossom. Our passage is rather disagreeable--too cool to be
agreeable on deck, from which the passenger wishes to view the shores of
the river. I rose early this morning and went on deck, as usual. It was
early dawn, so early that I would not have thought it morning were it
not for a golden streak in the east, glowing beneath a heavy mass of
dark clouds. We were just then at an interesting point, passing round
the point from the Ohio into the mighty Mississippi, and had already
begun to stem its muddy current when I came on deck. I took a long look
down between her banks, for the purpose of impressing upon my memory a
picture which I might unveil in the future. The flush of crimson
dawn-light was reflected upon the ripples that came chasing in our wake.

Now and then upon the shore the dark outlines of a log cabin (the
wood-chopper's home) met the eye. The banks are low and marshy, and
mostly covered with underbrush, such as cottonwood, etc. The river is
some two miles wide here (fifteen miles above the mouth of the Ohio)
and divided by numerous islands of all sizes--from an acre to several
miles in length. To keep the channel, we have to shift constantly from
one side of the river to the other; sometimes I could throw a stone to
the shore. This is a quiet, calm Sabbath morning, the sun shining out
brightly, with a cool breeze floating in from the west. But the iron
giant beneath us knows no Sabbath, no more than those who direct her
powerful arms, and keeps working on, tireless and undismayed; but like a
war horse, champing the bit, he is a dangerous slave, breathing fire and
smoke and shaking his person by his gigantic struggles. To use a strong
poetical figure, he