H. roused us at dawn.  Reeney found light-wood enough on the raft to make a good fire for coffee, which never tasted better.  Then all hands assisted in unloading; a rope was fastened to the boat, Max got in, H. held the rope on the raft, and, by much pulling and pushing, it was forced through a narrow passage to the farther side.  Here it had to be calked, and while that was being done we improvised a dressing-room in the shadow of our big trunks. (During the trip I had to keep the time, therefore properly to secure belt and watch was always an anxious part of my toilet.) The boat is now repacked, and while Annie and Reeney are washing cups I have scribbled, wishing much that mine were the hand of an artist.

Friday morning, July 18, 1862. (House of Col.  K., on Yazoo River.)—­After leaving the raft yesterday all went well till noon, when we came to a narrow place where an immense tree lay clear across the stream.  It seemed the insurmountable obstacle at last.  We sat despairing what to do, when a man appeared beside us in a pirogue.  So sudden, so silent was his arrival that we were thrilled with surprise.  He said if we had a hatchet he could help us.  His fairy bark floated in among the branches like a bubble, and he soon chopped a path for us, and was delighted to get some matches in return.  He said the cannon we heard yesterday were in an engagement with the ram Arkansas, which ran out of the Yazoo that morning.  We did not stop for dinner to-day, but ate a hasty lunch in the boat, after which nothing but a small piece of bread was left.  About two we reached the forks, one of which ran to the Yazoo, the other to the Old River.  Max said the right fork was our road; H. said the left, that there was an error in Max’s map; but Max steered into the right fork.  After pulling about three miles he admitted his mistake and turned back; but I shall never forget Old River.  It was the vision of a drowned world, an illimitable waste of dead waters, stretching into a great, silent, desolate forest.  A horror chilled me and I begged them to row fast out of that terrible place.

Just as we turned into the right way, down came the rain so hard and fast we had to stop on the bank.  It defied trees or umbrellas and nearly took away the breath.  The boat began to fill, and all five of us had to bail as fast as possible for the half-hour the sheet of water was pouring down.  As it abated a cold breeze sprung up that, striking our wet clothes, chilled us to the bone.  All were shivering and blue—­no, I was green.  Before leaving Mr. Fetler’s Wednesday morning I had donned a dark-green calico.  I wiped my face with a handkerchief out of my pocket, and face and hands were all dyed a deep green.  When Annie turned round and looked at me she screamed and I realized how I looked; but she was not much better, for of all dejected things wet feathers are the worst, and the plumes in her hat were painful.