At the commendable hour of one in the morning, as was hinted in my last letter, we safely arrived at our hotel, and roused the slumbering porter from his elysian dreams by the tinkling of a little bell pendant over the private door for "single gentlemen,—belated;" and ascended through dark passages and darker stairways to our rooms, lighted by the glimmer of a solitary candle fluttering and flickering by his motion, in the fingers of the drowsy "guardian of doors," who preceded us.

We had finished our late supper, and, toasting our bootless feet upon the burnished fender, were quietly enjoying the agreeable warmth of the glowing coals, and relishing, with that peculiar zest which none but a smoker knows, a real Habana,—when we were suddenly startled from our enjoyment by the thrilling, fearful cry, of "Fire! fire!" which, heard in the silence of midnight, makes a man's heart leap into his throat, while he springs from his couch, as if the cry "To arms—to arms!" had broken suddenly upon his slumbers. "Fire! fire! fire!" rang in loud notes through the long halls and corridors of the spacious hotel, startling the affrighted sleepers from their beds, and at the same instant a fierce, red glare flashed through our curtained windows. The alarm was borne loudly and wildly along the streets—the rapid clattering of footsteps, as some individual hastened by to the scene of the disaster, followed by another, and another, was in a few seconds succeeded by the loud, confused, and hurried tramping of many men, as they rushed along shouting with hoarse voices the quick note of alarm. We had already sprung to the balcony upon which the window of our room opened. For a moment our eyes were dazzled by the fearful splendour of the scene which burst upon us. The whole street,—lofty buildings, towers, and cupolas—reflected a wild, red glare, flashed upon them from a stupendous body of flame, as it rushed and roared, and flung itself toward the skies, which, black, lowering, and gloomy, hung threateningly above. Two of those mammoth steamers which float upon the mighty Mississippi, were, with nearly two thousand bales of cotton on board, wrapped in sheets of fire. They lay directly at the foot of Canal-street; and as the flames shot now and then high in the air, leaping from their decks as though instinct with life, this broad street to its remotest extremity in the distant forests, became lurid with a fitful reddish glare, which disclosed every object with the clearness of day. The balconies, galleries, and windows, were filled with interested spectators; and every street and avenue poured forth its hundreds, who thundered by toward the scene of conflagration. I have a mania for going to fires. I love their blood-stirring excitement; and, as in an engagement, the greater the tumult and danger, the greater is the enjoyment. I do not, however, carry my "incendiary passion" so far as to be vexed because an alarm that turns me out of a warm bed proves to be only a "false alarm," but when a fire does come in my way, I heartily enjoy the excitement necessarily attendant upon the exertions made to extinguish it. You will not be surprised, then, that although I had not had "sleep to my eyes, nor slumber to my eyelids," I should be unwilling to remain a passive and distant spectator of a scene so full of interest. Our hotel was a quarter of a mile from the fire, and yet the heat was sensibly felt at that distance. Leaving my companion to take his rest, I descended to the street, and falling into the tumultuous current setting toward the burning vessels, a few moments brought me to the spacious platform, or wharf, in front of the LevÉe, which was crowded with human beings, gazing passively upon the fire; while the ruddy glare reflected from their faces, gave them the appearance, so far as complexion was concerned, of so many red men of the forest. As I elbowed my way through this dense mass of people, who were shivering, notwithstanding their proximity to the fire, in the chilly morning air, with one side half roasted, and the other half chilled—the ejaculations—

"SacrÉ diable!" "Carramba!" "Marie, mon Dieu!" "Mine Got vat a fire!" "By dad, an its mighty waarm"—"Well now the way that ar' cotton goes, is a sin to Crockett!"—fell upon the ear, with a hundred more, in almost every patois and dialect, whereof the chronicles of grammar have made light or honourable mention.

As I gained the front of this mass of human beings, that activity which most men possess, who are not modelled after "fat Jack," enabled me to gain an elevation whence I had an unobstructed view of the whole scene of conflagration. The steamers were lying side by side at the LevÉe, and one of them was enveloped in wreaths of flame, bursting from a thousand cotton bales, which were piled, tier above tier, upon her decks. The inside boat, though having no cotton on board, was rapidly consuming, as the huge streams of fire lapped and twined around her. The night was perfectly calm, but a strong whirlwind had been created by the action of the heat upon the atmosphere, and now and then it swept down in its invisible power, with the "noise of a rushing mighty wind," and as the huge serpentine flames darted upward, the solid cotton bales would be borne round the tremendous vortex like feathers, and then—hurled away into the air, blazing like giant meteors—would descend heavily and rapidly into the dark bosom of the river. The next moment they would rise and float upon the surface, black unshapely masses of tinder. As tier after tier, bursting with fire, fell in upon the burning decks, the sweltering flames, for a moment smothered, preceded by a volcanic discharge of ashes, which fell in showers upon the gaping spectators, would break from their confinement, and darting upward with multitudinous large wads of cotton, shoot them away through the air, filling the sky for a moment with a host of flaming balls. Some of them were borne a great distance through the air, and falling lightly upon the surface of the water, floated, from their buoyancy, a long time unextinguished. The river became studded with fire, and as far as the eye could reach below the city, it presented one of the most magnificent, yet awful spectacles, I had ever beheld or imagined. Literally spangled with flame, those burning fragments in the distance being diminished to specks of light, it had the appearance, though far more dazzling and brilliant, of the starry firmament. There were but two miserable engines to play with this gambolling monster, which, one moment lifting itself to a great height in the air, in huge spiral wreaths, like some immense snake, at the next would contract itself within its glowing furnace, or coil and dart along the decks like troops of fiery serpents, and with the roaring noise of a volcano.

There are but few "fires" in New-Orleans, compared with the great number that annually occur in northern cities. This is owing, not wholly to the universally prevalent style of building with brick, but in a great measure to the very few fires requisite for a dwelling house in a climate so warm as this. Consequently there is much less interest taken by the citizens in providing against accidents of this kind, than would be felt were conflagrations more frequent. The miserably manned engines now acting at intervals upon the fire, presented a very true exemplification of the general apathy. To a New-Yorker or Bostonian, accustomed to the activity, energy, and military precision of their deservedly celebrated fire companies, the mob-like disorder of those who pretended to work the engines at this fire, would create a smile, and suggest something like the idea of a caricature.

After an hour's toil by the undisciplined firemen, assisted by those who felt disposed to aid in extinguishing the flame, the fire was got under, but not before one of the boats was wholly consumed, with its valuable cargo. The inner boat was saved from total destruction by the great exertions of some few individuals, "who fought on their own hook."

The next morning I visited the scene of the disaster. Thousands were gathered around, looking as steadily and curiously upon the smouldering ruins as if they had possessed some very peculiar and interesting attraction. The river presented a most lively scene. A hundred skiffs, wherries, punts, dug-outs, and other non-descript craft, with equally euphonic denominations, were darting about in all directions, each propelled by one or two individuals, who were gathering up the half saturated masses of cotton, that whitened the surface of the river as far as the eye could reach. Several unlucky wights, in their ambitious eagerness to obtain the largest piles of this "snow-drift," would lose their equilibrium, and tumble headlong with their wealth of cotton into the water. None of them, however, were drowned, their mishaps rather exciting the merriment of their companions and of the crowds of amused spectators on shore, than creating any apprehensions for their safety.

The misfortune of one shrivelled-up old Portuguese, who had been very active in securing a due proportion of the cotton, occasioned no little laughter among the crowd on the LevÉe. After much fighting, quarreling, and snarling, he had filled his little boat so completely, that his thin, black, hatchet-face, could only be seen protruding above the snowy mass in which he was imbedded. Seizing his oars in his long bony hands, he began to pull for the shore with his prize, when a light wreath of blue smoke rose from the cotton and curled very ominously over his head. All unconscious, he rowed on, and before he gained the shore, the fire burst in a dozen places at once from his combustible cargo, and instantly enveloped the little man and his boat in a bright sheet of flame; with a terrific yell he threw himself into the water, and in a few moments emerged close by the LevÉe, where he was picked up, with no other personal detriment than the loss of the little forelock of gray hair which time had charitably spared him.

In one instance, two skiffs, with a single individual in each, attracted attention by racing for a large tempting float of cotton, which drifted along at some distance in the stream. Shouts of encouragement rose from the multitude as they watched the competitors, with the interest similar to that felt upon a race-course. The light boats flew over the water like arrows on the wing. They arrived at the same instant at the object of contest, one on either side, and the occupants, seizing it simultaneously, and without checking the speed of their boats, bore the mass of cotton through the water between them, ploughing and tossing the spray in showers over their heads. Gradually the boats stopped, and a contest of another kind began. Neither would resign his prize. After they had remained leaning over the sides of their boats for a moment, grasping it and fiercely eyeing each other, some words were apparently exchanged between them, for they mutually released their hold upon the cotton, brought their boats together and secured them; then, stripping off their roundabouts, placed themselves on the thwarts of their boats in a pugilistic attitude, and prepared to decide the ownership of the prize, by an appeal to the "law of arms." The other cotton-hunters desisted from their employment, and seizing their oars, pulled with shouts to the scene of contest. Before they reached it, the case had been decided, and the foremost of the approaching boatmen had the merit of picking from the water the conquered hero, who, after gallantly giving and taking a dozen fine rounds, received an unlucky "settler" under the left ear, whereupon he tumbled over the side, and was fast sinking, when he was taken out, amid the shouts of the gratified spectators, with his hot blood effectually cooled, though not otherwise injured. The more fortunate victor deliberately lifted the prize into the boat, and fixing a portion on the extremity of an oar, set it upright, and rowed to shore amid the cheers and congratulations of his fellows, who now assembling in a fleet around him, escorted him in triumph.