About eleven we stopped here in this shady place.  While eating lunch the negroes again came imploring for tobacco.  Soon an invitation came from the house for us to come and rest.  We gratefully accepted, but found the idea of rest for warm, tired travelers was for us to sit in the parlor on stiff chairs while the whole family trooped in, cool and clean in fresh toilets, to stare and question.  We soon returned to the trees; however, they kindly offered corn-meal pound-cake and beer, which were excellent.  If we reach Fetler’s Landing to-night, the Mississippi-River part of the journey is concluded.  Eight gunboats and one transport have passed us.  Getting out of their way has been troublesome.  Our gentlemen’s hands are badly blistered.

Tuesday, July 15, 1862.—­Sunday night about ten we reached the place where, according to our map, Steele’s Bayou comes nearest to the Mississippi, and where the landing should be, but when we climbed the steep bank there was no sign, of habitation.  Max walked off into the woods on a search, and was gone so long we feared he had lost his way.  He could find no road.  H. suggested shouting and both began.  At last a distant halloo replied, and by cries the answerer was guided to us.  A negro said “Who are you?  What do you want?” “Travelers seeking shelter for the night.”  He came forward and said that was the right place, his master kept the landing, and he would watch the boat for five dollars.  He showed the road, and said his master’s house was one mile off and another house two miles.  We mistook and went to the one two miles off.  There a legion of dogs rushed at us, and several great, tall, black fellows surrounded us till the master was roused.  He put his head through the window and said,—­“I’ll let nobody in.  The Yankees have been here and took twenty-five of my negroes to work on their fortifications, and I’ve no beds nor anything for anybody.”  At 1 o’clock we reached Mr. Fetler’s, who was pleasant, and said we should have the best he had.  The bed into whose grateful softness I sank was piled with mattresses to within two or three feet of the ceiling, and, with no step-ladder, getting in and out was a problem.  This morning we noticed the high-water mark, four feet above the lower floor.  Mrs. Fetler said they had lived up-stairs several weeks.

FOOTNOTES: 
[31] Restored omission.  See page 262.

X.

FRIGHTS AND PERILS IN STEELE’S BAYOU.

Wednesday, July 16, 1862. (Under a tree on the bank of Steele’s Bayou.)—­Early this morning our boat was taken out of the Mississippi and put on Mr. Fetler’s ox-cart.  After breakfast we followed on foot.  The walk in the woods was so delightful that all were disappointed when a silvery gleam through the trees showed the bayou sweeping along, full to the banks, with dense forest trees almost meeting over it.  The boat was launched, calked, and reloaded, and we were off