to receive a thimble.  When he asked the price I expected to hear the seller say at least thirty dollars, but his humble reply was five dollars.  For a deer he asked one dollar; for a wild turkey, twenty-five cents.  Despite the advice of papa, who asked us how we were going to carry our purchases home, Suzanne and I bought, between us, more than forty baskets, great and small.  To papa’s question, Suzanne replied with an arch smile: 

“God will provide.”

Maggie and Alix also bought several; and Alix, who never forgot any one, bought two charming little baskets that she carried to Celeste.  Each of us, even Maggie, secured a broad parti-colored mat to use on the deck as a couch a la Turque.  Our last purchases were two Indian bows painted red and blue and adorned with feathers; the first bought by Celestino Carlo, and the other by Suzanne for her chevalier, Patrick Gordon.

An Indian woman who spoke a little French asked if we would not like to visit the queen.  We assented, and in a few moments she led us into a hut thatched with palmetto leaves and in all respects like the others.  Its interior was disgustingly unclean.  The queen was a woman quite or nearly a hundred years old.  She sat on a mat upon the earth, her arms crossed on her breast, her eyes half closed, muttering between her teeth something resembling a prayer.  She paid no attention to us, and after a moment we went out.  We entered two or three other huts and found the same poverty and squalor.  The men did not follow us about, but the women—­the whole tribe, I think—­marched step by step behind us, touching our dresses, our capuches, our jewelry, and asking for everything; and I felt well content when, standing on our deck, I could make them our last signs of adieu.

Our flatboat moved ever onward.  Day by day, hour by hour, every minute it advanced—­slowly it is true, in the diminished current, but it advanced.  I no longer knew where I was.  We came at times where I thought we were lost; and then I thought of mamma and my dear sisters and my two pretty little brothers, whom I might never see again, and I was swallowed up.  Then Suzanne would make fun of me and Alix would caress me, and that did me good.  There were many bayous,—­a labyrinth, as papa said,—­and Mario had his map at hand showing the way.  Sometimes it seemed impracticable, and it was only by great efforts of our men ["no zomme,” says the original] that we could pass on.  One thing is sure—­those who traverse those same lakes and bayous to-day have not the faintest idea of what they were [il zete] in 1795.

Great vines hung down from lofty trees that shaded the banks and crossed one another a hundred—­a thousand—­ways to prevent the boat’s passage and retard its progress, as if the devil himself was mixed in it; and, frankly, I believe that he had something to do with us in that cavern.  Often our emigrants were forced to take their axes and hatchets in hand to open a road.  At other times tree-trunks, heaped upon one another, completely closed a bayou.  Then think what trouble there was to unbar that gate and pass through.  And, to make all complete, troops of hungry alligators clambered upon the sides of our flatboat with jaws open to devour us.  There was much outcry; I fled, Alix fled with me, Suzanne laughed.  But our men were always ready for them with their guns.