With this contract duly signed, sealed, and stamped, I went to the “Agent for Abandoned Plantations.”  After some delay, and a payment of liberal fees, I obtained the Government lease.  These preliminaries concluded, I proceeded to the locality of our temporary home.  Colburn had not returned from the North, but was expected daily.

The bayou which I have mentioned, running through the strip of woods which separated the plantations, formed the dividing line between the parishes “Concordia” and “Tensas,” in the State of Louisiana.  Lake St. John lay directly in rear of “Monono,” our lower plantation.  This lake was five or six miles long by one in width, and was, doubtless, the bed of the Mississippi many years ago.

On each plantation there were ten dwelling-houses for the negroes.  On one they were arranged in a double row, and on the other in a single row.  There was a larger house for the overseer, and there were blacksmith shops, carpenter shops, stables, corn-cribs, meat-houses, cattle-yards, and gin-houses.

On Aquasco there was a dwelling-house containing five large rooms, and having a wide veranda along its entire front.  This dwelling-house was in a spacious inclosure, by the side of a fine garden.  Inside this inclosure, and not far from the dwelling, were the quarters for the house-servants, the carriage-house and private stable, the smoke-house and the kitchen, which lay detached from the main building, according to the custom prevailing in the South.

Our garden could boast of fig and orange trees, and other tropical productions.  Pinks and roses we possessed in abundance.  Of the latter we had enough in their season to furnish all the flower-girls on Broadway with a stock in trade.  Our gardener “made his garden” in February.  By the middle of March, his potatoes, cabbages, beets, and other vegetables under his care were making fine progress.  Before the jingle of sleigh-bells had ceased in the Eastern States, we were feasting upon delicious strawberries from our own garden, ripened in the open air.  The region where plowing begins in January, and corn is planted in February or early March, impresses a New Englander with its contrast to his boyhood home.

When I took possession of our new property, the state of affairs was not the most pleasing.  Mrs. B. had sent the best of her negroes to Texas shortly after the fall of Vicksburg.  Those remaining on the plantations were not sufficient for our work.  There were four mules where we needed fifty, and there was not a sufficient supply of oxen and wagons.  Farming tools, plows, etc., were abundant, but many repairs must be made.  There was enough of nearly every thing for a commencement.  The rest would be secured in due season.