Somehow or other this voyage down the Mississippi and Ohio seemed food for my health. The complete want of domestic cares, the fresh air on the open deck, the happiness of the two children, and all my delightful surroundings, made me fat and rosy, and the girls, also. Indeed, we were complimented on our appearance before we left the boat. The rapid "Natchez" flew along in, and in due course the "Crescent City," as New Orleans is called, arose upon our view, and thrilled us with the utmost delight. We drew up to the land-place in due time, and now followed one of those wild, exciting scenes that usually take place when we come to the end of a grand journey and anticipate grand things in the immediate future. No sooner had the gang-planks been thrown out, but the usual rush for the shore, and the usual rush on board, took place at once. Cabs, carriages and porters, all were on hand. As I had taken the precaution to communicate with those dear friends at whose house I lodged when I rescued my own dear mother, Mrs. John B. Sutherland, from slavery, there were two of the self-same sweet ladies awaiting us on the wharf, and signalling to us before we even came up to it, whilst myself and the girls waved our handkerchiefs to them in reply. But when the gang-planks were flung down between us and the shore, the dear souls rushed on board, and a scene of wild embracing, kissing, tears and laughter followed, that it would be quite vain for me to describe. In that brief and joyous meeting on the deck of the "Natchez," we all experienced a lifetime of bliss. With a terrible vim, indeed, did we all realize the truth of the 13th chapter of First Corinthians, wherein the great apostle of the Gentiles dilates so eloquently on love (not charity). Well, the girls and I got all our traps together, called for a cab, when we all got in, and drove for my cosy old quarters. Although I had only spent a week with that dear family on my last visit, the attachment that had grown up between us was truly wonderful. I had heard from them several times, and they never, never forgot my dear mother and me. When we all reached the never-to-be-forgotten house with the cab, we received another ovation at the door from those who had remained at home. The grand welcome put the girls and me into the very best humor. After we had heard and told each other’s news, the girls and myself walked forth to meet dear husband and father at the hospital. Our impatience was so great, mine at least was, that we did not seem able to live out this day unless we met with Capt. Thomas Lincoln, of the Union Army, in the South. We soon reached the hospital, where we were received with all that politeness, tenderness and humanity that are so characteristic of doctors and nurses. I told them at once who we were, and they were very greatly astonished and delighted, indeed, to think that we had thus purposely travelled all the way from one extreme end of the United