Letter from a Cuba Volunteer.

A young printer who was employed in this office, and who left for Cuba with the Cincinnati company, has written a letter from New Orleans, giving an account of the trip to New Orleans, and the occurrences in that city from which we extract the following:

NEW ORLEANS, Aug. 22, 1851.

Amid these scenes of revolry, every countenance was changed from glee and laughter, into sadness and melancholy, by the sudden attack by cholera of one of our comrades, Thomas Hamer,⁽¹⁾ son of Gen. Hamer, of Ohio. He died the next evening, about ten o'clock, and was buried on the following morning before sunrise on the Kentucky shore of the Ohio river, under a large oak tree upon which was nailed a plank with the inscription "Thomas Hamer." That day passed very quiet, but on the following, all scenes forgotten, the boys were again under a "time of it." We arrived at Cairo Sunday morning, where we lay all day. We engaged ourselves there in pitching quoits, coppers, racing, jumping, wrestling, swimming, riding about in skiffs, &c--and in the evening had a sermon by a Reverend, who happened to be on board. While he was preaching, his wife was taken with the cholera, and died the next evening about dark. She was buried on the east bank of the Mississippi, in a dense forest, by torchlight--one of the most wild and romantic scenes I ever witnessed in my life. All the passengers and crew went ashore to the funeral--all was silence save the solemn music made by the constant hum of the locusts and other insects in the dark, dense forest--while the down-cast look upon every face was made plainly visible by the glaring light shed around from the blazing torches, which were planted at each end of the grave.--It was a sight not soon to be forgotton. We arrived at the Crescent City on the morning of the 9th. The Cincinnati company got into a "row" with some New Orleans loafers--or rather wharf-rats--who insulted us in the streets and followed us to the Monterey House, where a lot of our boys were boarding. They came in and began using the most insulting language towards us. Our captain, Bill McEwen, ordered us not to mind them unless they struck one of us. Finally one of them swore he would whip somebody, and was going to strike a small man when McEwen jumped in and told him if he wanted to hit anybody, he was the first, and so the man made a pass at him, when McEwen drew a pistol, placed it to the fellows breast, and snapped it at him--it missed fire; he then drew a bowie-knife and made a plunge at his heart, which was interrupted by a bystander--he made another pass at him with his knife, and cut him in the arm.

By this time some four or five others were knocked down, the police ran in, and the rascals took to their heels. The next night about 9 o'clock, we assembled, anticipating a grand fight, but there was none of them to be seen, so, after giving three cheers for the Cincinnatians, Kentuckians, Capt. McEwen, &c. we dispersed. About 12 o'clock, the villians came out, about 100 strong, but our crowd having dispersed, they cheered for New Orleans and growned for Cincinnati. They then went and attacked a house where some twenty-five Kentuckians boarded and challenged them to come out. They did come out, the whole of them, killing one of them and wounding seven others. Thus ended that riot. Now comes the grand riot of all.--We yesterday morning received the sad news of 52 Americans being murdered in cold blood at Havana. The excitement this intelligence created was too intense to describe. There is a Spanish paper printed here, called La Union, which has been abusing the Cuban adventurers and the American people in general. The Delta yesterday morning copied an article published in this la Union, which article, together with the news received of the murder of American citizens in Havana, set the people enraged at all Spaniards. In the afternoon a mob repaired to this Spanish printing office, and completely ruined it, throwing every thing out at the windows. A small party first tore down the sign, and rushed through the streets with it on their shoulders, yelling and shouting at the top of their voices. Then came another party, dragging the press after them, shouting and yelling like wild men. They brought up in front of an extensive cigar store kept by a Spaniard--a tremendous crowd assembled at this point--speeches were made, amid roars of applause. The Spaniard began to get suspicious of what was coming, and attempted to close his store. Some of those most enraged made a break into his shop and jerked down several boxes and cases, but were quieted for a short time by some friends interfering. The Spaniard became furiously enraged at this outbreak, rushed out, and stabbed the first individual he met. The police immediately nabbed him and took him away, or he would have been torn to pieces by the excited mob. His store was riddled completely, and every thing thrown into the street. Cigars were cheap--everybody filled their hats and pockets, and some ran off with boxes. At night some dozen liquor shops were destroyed in the same manner. I am perfectly satisfied with the adventure so far, and am bound to go through if I lose my little head by it. All the boys are well, and in good spirits--very eager to get off, which we expect to do in a day or two. I expect to be on the island of Cuba before this reaches you--so, good-bye.

Yours, truly,

THOS. J. HERNDON.

1. ¹ Thomas M. Hamer was sixteen years old.