cow would have leaped with joy at the sight; and it was just
so all the way to Thibodeaux. It must have been a splendid farming
country. Sugar cane and cotton fields were also looking fine. After
marching about twelve miles we encamped at Paincourtville, pretty well
tired out. There were plenty of chickens, pigs, and sheep running loose
of which we were not slow to avail ourselves. About the last thing I
saw when I had lain down for the night was a porker squealing for all
he was worth and charging blindly among the camp-fires over bunks and
slumbering soldiers pursued by a band of shouting men discharging all
kinds of deadly missiles at him.

April 7th. We were off at 7 A.M. Still among clover fields. On our
march we passed some beautiful plantations; one was especially so. It
was perfectly embowered in trees, had a smooth-cut lawn. There was a
fountain and some swans swimming in the pond in front of the house. On
the veranda there were two ladies working and some little children were
playing. It was the prettiest sight I had seen in Louisiana. It fairly
stilled the boys, seeing those children, and I heard more than one
tough fellow sing out "God bless them." At another little white cottage
we saw a lady whose husband had fallen in the army. She sent her slaves
out where we were with pails of cool water. It was a simple act but we
could not help blessing her for it.

And then we resumed our dusty way. The heat and dust were very intense;
not a breath of air was stirring. We marched fourteen miles to
Labadieville, and camped for the night on a sugar plantation, where we
just had sugar and molasses to our hearts' content. Early the next
morning we started in a flood of moonlight that silvered the grass with
dew-drops. There is something very fascinating in camping-out; the
camp-fires far and wide, the hum and bustle everywhere. It makes one
forget his troubles.

April 9th. We had marching orders this morning. We marched as far as
Brashear City, and camped for the night. It was the hardest day's march
of all. The men staggered over the road from fatigue and sore feet. We
felt better when we passed from the road into the clover field to lie
down. At 6 P.M. came the order to fall in and we were ordered on board
the little steamer, St. Mary. We stayed there all night,--expecting to
start every minute.

April 11th. Although it was a small boat, the Fifty-second
Massachusetts, the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-fifth Connecticu