I found it impossible to sleep. The feverish state of the atmosphere, and the tumult around me, scared the drowsy god from my pillow--[I had no pillow by the way, but made my great coat serve as a substitute for one.] The thundering and crashing of the engine,--the dashing of the paddles in the water--the stamping of feet above our heads--the uproar of many voices, heard at intervals when some order was given to the crew--the _banging_ of the wood upon the planks, at it was transferred from the pile to the engine-room--the rumbling of ballast-boxes, as they were occasionally transferred from side to side, for the purpose of _trimming_ the steamer--the harsh rattling of the tackle, as a boat was lowered, to land or take off passengers by a _tow line_,[1] and the simultaneous rush to the gangway of those who were to go on shore, while the subtile fluid which gave motion to our floating caravan, being partially restrained, emitted a wheezing and uncomfortable sound. [Footnote 1: This method of landing and taking off passengers was practised for many years on the Hudson, but finally abolished by law, on account of its risks, several fatal accidents having been caused by it. The steamer was not brought to during the operation; but a tow line attached to the small boat, was out from the steamer, and drawn in by the machinery with great velocity.] But who shall describe the varied and terrific music of the steam engine? I do not attempt it, not doubting that in the march of improvement, the poet will hereafter make it a special theme; and that some American Mayerbeer or Mozart, will consider the composition of a passage by steam from Albany to New York, as affording facilities for expression and contrast, equally sublime with the March in Saul or the Battle of Prague.--Occasionally we came to a dead stop at some principal landing place. For a moment the engine was hushed, as silent as death; then a feeble whistle was heard from the steam pipe, (sweet, shrill and almost plaintive,) followed by a roar of the imprisoned element, fiercely exulting at its recovered liberty, as it was _let off_ from the engine, and rushing forth with such gigantic impulse as to shake every timber in the vessel.--Gradually the roar subsides; slowly, slowly, until a humming sound succeeds, as though all the bees of Hybla were swarming around our heads. Suddenly it ceases, and for a moment the steam is silent. Then again, the hoarse thunder of the machinery commences, the paddles dash the water from beneath them, with giant strides, and the motion of the vessel is distinctly felt, as she rushes onward in her course.