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               In the Lafourche Country.
Bayou Boeuf, Ramot, Bradshaw city � 80
miles, and our destination.     The country geo-
logic, not fit for human habitation for a thou-
sand years or so.       Grey weird-looking moss
hanging by the yard long, completely hiding
the vegetation of the trees, intricate bayous, the
haunt of the alligator and mud-turtle, burnt
bridges, scenes of fights and skirmishes.  We
had alighted at Boutte and saw the negro-
soldiers at drill, necessitating a run to catch
the train.    All this time I had been suffering
from a fester in my ear, the pain of which
kept increasing.   At Brashear City, went aboard
a gun-boat, inquiring for a captain to whom
Herbert had given me a note of introduction.
This vessel was a captured blockade-runner,
of course English built.   After some talk with
naval officers and a visit to a shabby, third-
rate �hotel� we got invited to a meal on board
the gun-boat, and partook of oyster-stew and
sardines with all the relish of hunger.      Then
to the dreary hotel, where I was fain to ascend
to a three-bedded room, one bed of which was
already occupied by a Frenchman or French-
speaking creole.   I have forgot to mention that
Blake had left us at La fourche, his absence
being made good by a Mr Breed or Reed of the
same commission.    He and A. G. Hills strol-