The “freshets” in the Mississippi are always accompanied with an immense quantity of “drift-wood,” which is swept away from the banks of the Missouri and Ohio; and the navigation is never totally devoid of danger, from the quantity of trees which settle down on the bottom of the river.  Those trees which stand perpendicularly in the river, are called “planters;” those which take hold by the roots, but lie obliquely with the current, yielding to its pressure, appearing and disappearing alternately, are termed “sawyers;” and those which lie immovably fixed, in the same position as the “sawyers,” are denominated “snags.”  Many boats have been stove in by “snags” and “sawyers,” and sunk with all the passengers.  At present there is a snag steam-boat stationed on the Mississippi, which has almost entirely cleared it of these obstructions.  This boat consists of two hulks, with solid beams of timber uniting the bows.  It has a most powerful engine; and when the crew discover a snag, which always lies with the stream, and is known by the ripple on the water, they run down below it for some distance in order to gather head-way—­the boat is then run at it full tilt, and seldom fails of breaking off the projecting branch close to the trunk.

We arrived, a fine morning about nine o’clock, at Memphis in Tennessee, and lay-to to put out freight.  We had just sat down, and were regaling ourselves with a substantial breakfast, when one of the boilers burst, with an explosion that resembled the report of a cannon.  The change was sudden and terrific.  Between fifty and sixty persons were killed and wounded.  The scene was the most horrifying that can be imagined—­the dead were shattered to pieces, covering the decks with blood; and the dying suffered the most excruciating tortures, being scalded from head to foot.  Many died within the hour; whilst others lingered until evening, shrieking in the most piteous manner.  The persons assembled on shore displayed the most disgusting want of sympathy; and most of the gentlemen passengers took care to secure their luggage before rendering any assistance to the unfortunates.  A medical gentleman, who happened to be on board (a Doctor Otis, I think, from Carolina), was an exception.  This gentleman—­and gentleman he really was, in every respect—­attended with the most unremitting care on all the wounded without distinction.  A collection was made by the cabin passengers, for the surviving sufferers.  The wretch who furnished oil on the occasion, hearing of the collection, had the conscience to make a charge of sixty dollars, when the quantity furnished could not possibly have amounted to a third of that sum.