“ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.—­The aforesaid sum will be given to any person who will bring back to the undersigned the negro-girl Eugenia, and her mulatto child aged two years.  Said slave has been purloined or enticed away by her former owner, Madame Widow Decaux, who secretly went out of this State on the 12th December, 1846.  Said Widow Decaux is well known in New Orleans as a notorious swindler, having been prosecuted for having pawned logs of wood to a merchant of this city instead of dry goods.  She has a scar on her forehead, and several others on her neck, and is accompanied by her aged mother, and her boy aged ten years.

“J.  B. DUPEIRE.”

“j7—­15t*.”

“Ran away from the subscriber, on the 20th November last, a negro man named Sandy, about twenty-five years of age, five feet five inches high, very dark complexion, speaks both French and English, shows the mark of the whip very much.  A liberal reward will be paid for his apprehension, either by confining in any gaol, so that I can secure him, or his delivery to me at Plaquemine, La.

“W.  H. CARR.”

“J20—­3tW.”

And yet the editor of this very paper, in his leading article, reviewing the past, (that day being the tenth anniversary of its own existence,) coolly says, “In entering upon our eleventh anniversary, how different the spectacle!  Industry in every quarter of the land receives its meet reward; Commerce is remunerated by wholesome gains; Comfort blesses the toil of the labourer(!) and Hope encourages the enterprise of all the industrial classes of our citizens.”

As the day advanced, my fever returned; and I was obliged to go below.  A furious tempest arose, so that even our “monster” could scarcely get along.  The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain fell in torrents.  It was a terrific day!  As night approached, our captain told us the vessel could not then be got any further,—­it was about two miles from the city; and if we particularly wished to go ashore, we must get ready directly, and go with him in the steam-tug.  Anxious for a good night’s rest, on shore we resolved to go.  I had to turn out in that state of profuse perspiration which always succeeds the fever, and my wife hurriedly selected a few necessary things.  Poor thing! she was almost overwhelmed with the trying circumstances in which she was placed,—­thousands of miles from home—­about to enter a place in which she knew not a single soul—­her husband ill, and herself an invalid!  But there was no help for it.  Amidst torrents of rain, we made the fearful transition from the ship to the tug, while both vessels were in violent agitation.  It was done.  And now we were in the “monster’s” own bosom, expecting every moment his bowels to burst, and send us into eternity.  The noise of the engine, the grunting of the steam, the raging of the wind, the pelting of the rain, and the roaring of the thunder, made it almost impossible to hear anything besides; but I managed to shout in my wife’s ear the natural, though not very consolatory question, “Were we ever in so fearful a position before?” “Never!” (and we had had some experience of storms by both land and sea) was her awe-stricken reply.