a handkerchief out of my pocket,
and face and hands were all dyed a deep green. When Annie turned round
and looked at me she screamed, and I realized how I looked; but she was
not much better, for of all dejected things wet feathers are the worst,
and the plumes in her hat were painful.

About five we reached Colonel K.'s house, right where Steele's Bayou
empties into the Yazoo. We had both to be fairly dragged out of the
boat, so cramped and weighted were we by wet skirts. The family were
absent, and the house was headquarters for a squad of Confederate
cavalry, which was also absent. The old colored housekeeper received us
kindly, and lighted fires in our rooms to dry the clothing. My trunk
had got cracked on top, and all the clothing to be got at was wet. H.
had dropped his in the river while lifting it out, and his clothes were
wet. A spoonful of brandy apiece was left in the little flask, and I
felt that mine saved me from being ill. Warm blankets and the brandy
revived us, and by supper-time we got into some dry clothes.

Just then the squad of cavalry returned; they were only a dozen, but
they made much uproar, being in great excitement. Some of them were
known to Max and H., who learned from them that a gunboat was coming to
shell them out of this house. Then ensued a clatter such as twelve men
surely never made before--rattling about the halls and galleries in
heavy boots and spurs, feeding horses, calling for supper, clanking
swords, buckling and unbuckling belts and pistols. At last supper was
despatched, and they mounted and were gone like the wind. We had a quiet
supper and a good night's rest in spite of the expected shells, and did
not wake till ten to-day to realize we were not killed. About eleven
breakfast was furnished. Now we are waiting till the rest of our things
are dried to start on our last day of travel by water.

_Sunday, July 20._--A little way down the Yazoo on Friday we ran into
McNutt's Lake, thence into Chickasaw Bayou, and at dark landed at Mrs.
C.'s farm, the nearest neighbors of H.'s uncle. The house was full of
Confederate sick, friends from Vicksburg, and while we ate supper all
present poured out the story of the shelling and all that was to be done
at Vicksburg. Then our stuff was taken from the boat, and we finally
abandoned the stanch little craft that had carried us for over one
hundred and twenty-five miles in a trip occupying nine days. The luggage
in a wagon, and ourselves