, and disembarked to eat lunch. To our surprise a neatly dressed
woman came tripping down the declivity, bringing a basket. She said she
lived above and had seen our boat. Her husband was in the army, and we
were the first white people she had talked to for a long while. She
offered some corn-meal pound-cake and beer, and as she climbed back told
us to "look out for the rapids." H. is putting the boat in order for our
start, and says she is waving good-by from the bluff above.

_Thursday, July 17._ (_On a raft in Steele's Bayou._)--Yesterday we went
on nicely awhile, and at afternoon came to a strange region of rafts,
extending about three miles, on which persons were living. Many saluted
us, saying they had run away from Vicksburg at the first attempt of the
fleet to shell it. On one of these rafts, about twelve feet square,[1]
bagging had been hung up to form three sides of a tent. A bed was in one
corner, and on a low chair, with her provisions in jars and boxes
grouped round her, sat an old woman feeding a lot of chickens.

[Footnote 1: More likely twelve yards.--G.W.C.]

Having moonlight, we had intended to travel till late. But about ten
o'clock, the boat beginning to go with great speed, H., who was
steering, called to Max:

"Don't row so fast; we may run against something."

"I'm hardly pulling at all."

"Then we're in what she called the rapids!"

The stream seemed indeed to slope downward, and in a minute a dark line
was visible ahead. Max tried to turn, but could not, and in a second
more we dashed against this immense raft, only saved from breaking up by
the men's quickness. We got out upon it and ate supper. Then, as the
boat was leaking and the current swinging it against the raft, H. and
Max thought it safer to watch all night, but told us to go to sleep. It
was a strange spot to sleep in--a raft in the middle of a boiling
stream, with a wilderness stretching on either side. The moon made
ghostly shadows, and showed H., sitting still as a ghost, in the stern
of the boat, while mingled with the gurgle of the water round the raft
beneath was the boom of cannon in the air, solemnly breaking the silence
of night. It drizzled now and then, and the mosquitos swarmed over us.
My fan and umbrella had been knocked overboard, so I had no weapon
against them. Fatigue, however, overcomes everything, and I contrived to
sleep.

H. roused us at dawn. Reeney found lightwood enough on the raft to make
a good fire