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 seems to say: "Bind me down with your iron bands, Make sure of your curb and rein, For I scorn the strength of your puny hands As the lion scorns a chain." The California-bound passengers on board are a hardy-looking class of men, say but little about the gold, and are probably prepared to meet the dangers and hardships of the journey. APRIL 8. The banks of the Mississippi begin to assume a more cheerful aspect, the banks are higher and are partly covered with cedar bushes and other evergreen shrubbery. We arrived at St. Louis at about 9 o'clock this morning, and immediately took passage upon "_The Pride of the West_" for St. Joseph. We expect to be about a week in going there, longer than it would take to travel the same distance on the Ohio, owing to the numerous obstructions in the river. The signs of an immense emigration become more apparent as we approach the starting points. Every boat is crowded with passengers, horses, wagons and everything else necessary for an outfit preparatory to crossing the continent. At St. Louis business appears quite brisk at present. The levee is crowded with articles of trade. But St. Louis, like Louisville, bears the mark of slavery in their population and the appearance of local business; their suburbs, instead of being occupied by the beautiful little dwellings of artisans, look ruinous and uninteresting. Well, we are under way again, St. Louis is fading away in the twilight and blending with the distant hills. Tomorrow morning I expect to look upon the waters of the Missouri. APRIL 9.