On the 3d, we entered the mouth of the Yang-tse-kiang—it being remembered that _kiang_ is the Chinese for river. The water is as muddy as that of the Pekiang. Just inside of an island, bearing the euphonic name of the orientalist and quasi-missionary, Gutzlaff, we got an English pilot who gave us the first intelligence of the doings of the rebel army, up the river, in the vicinity of Nanking. The navigation of the Yang-tse is exceedingly intricate, owing to hard and shifting bars, which rendered it necessary for a ship of our size to proceed with much caution. The shores were low and white, and resembled the coast of Florida. Shanghae is situated on the Woosung river, which empties into the Yang-tse at the village of Woosung, and after reaching the village and anchorage for opium-ships, you run off to the left and southwest for Shanghae. Nothing can exceed the closeness and thoroughness of the cultivation visible on the bank on both sides of this tortuous stream; it looks like one great market-garden, and the wonderful industry of its cultivators, says to the black soil, month in and month out, “Give! give!” The unremitting toil, and the uninterrupted use of ammoniacal fertilizers never allow the earth to be weary of well-doing. No wonder agriculture is so fostered by the government, and that once a year the imperial cousin, &c., to the planetary system, should, by holding the plough in the field, attempt the impossibility of adding dignity to the labors of the husbandman. A few hours’ run after entering the Woosung, enabled us to descry the Susquehanna and the Plymouth, the bend of the river, and the low and level paddy-fields, causing them to appear as if enclosed by dry land. The salute of the former came to us over any quantity of waving rice. The river, at the city, is quite narrow, and we anchored in the Chow-chow water—which, with the upturned mud, curls and eddies and turns back and runs on, causing the ships to swing every way at their anchors—just opposite to the numerous houses of the foreign residents, and a short row from a stone quay and level walk which imported cockneyism calls “_the Bund_.”