on was at least ingenious.

_July 14th_.--To-day, twice visited by Mademoiselle; who, as usual, was
accompanied by Aurore.

Our conversation does not flow easily or freely, nor is it of long
continuance. She (Mademoiselle) is still evidently suffering, and there
is a tone of sadness in everything she says. At first I attributed this
to her sorrow for Antoine, but it has now continued too long to be thus
explained. Some other grief presses upon her spirit. I suffer from
restraint. The presence of Aurore restrains me; and I can ill give
utterance to those common-places required in an ordinary conversation.
She (Aurore) takes no part in the dialogue; but lingers by the door, or
stands behind her mistress, respectfully listening. When I regard her
steadfastly, her fringed eyelids droop, and shut out all communion with
her soul. _Oh that I could make her understand me_!

_July 15th_.--Scipio is confirmed in his dislike for the new overseer.
His first impressions were correct. From two or three little matters
which I have heard about this gentleman, I am satisfied that he is a bad
successor to the good Antoine.

_A propos_ of poor Antoine, it was reported that his body had been
washed up among some drift-timber below the plantation; but the report
proved incorrect. A body _was_ found, but not that of the steward.
Some other unfortunate, who had met with a similar fate. I wonder if
the wretch who wounded me is yet above water!

There are still many of the sufferers at Bringiers. Some have died of
the injuries they received on board the boat. A terrible death is this
scalding by steam. Many who fancied themselves scarce injured, are now
in their last agonies. The doctor has given me some details that are
horrifying.

One of the men, a "fireman," whose nose is nearly gone, and who is
conscious that he has but a short while to live, requested to see his
face in a looking-glass. Upon the request being granted, he broke into
a diabolical laugh, crying out at the same time, in a loud voice, "What
a damned ugly corpse I'll make."

This reckless indifference to life is a characteristic of these wild
boatmen. The race of "Mike Fink" is not extinct: many true
representatives of this demi-savage still navigate the great rivers of
the West.

_July 20th_. Much better to-day. The doctor tells me that in a week I
may leave my room. This is cheering; and yet a week seems a long while
to one not used to being caged