Amongst these families journeying to the land of promise, inspired by hopes for the future and cheered by the presence of those on whom they relied for their fulfilment, we now and then met little parties of broken-men retracing their sad steps toward the homes they had consigned to strangers: of these, one family, which we encountered camping near the banks of a swollen river whose bridge we were compelled to repair before we could cross it, excited deep commiseration. The establishment consisted of a single covered waggon, a small open cart, and half-a-dozen slaves, principally women: its conductress was a widow, not exceeding thirty years of age, having by her side five children, one an infant. Within a year after the location of his family on the banks of the Black-warrior, her husband, we learned, had died; and the widow was thus far on her way back to Virginia, accompanied by such of her household as remained to her; this was the 22nd of December, and there yet remained five hundred miles of her journey unperformed. I know my heart was sore as I contemplated her forlorn condition, and thought upon the toilsome way yet dividing her from the changed home she sought. Between Millidgeville and Macon the route became all but impassable: at each mile we anticipated a stand-still; the rain was incessant; the creeks were flooded, and the bridges in an indescribable condition. We were frequently compelled to alight and walk, being in momentary expectation of an overturn: and so we journeyed on, our numbers reduced to six, in order that a lighter vehicle might be adopted. The way in which this drafting was effected was on principles perfectly fair, and submitted to without a murmur: at Sparta, the agent informed us that only six passengers could be taken on; and that, unless we arranged otherwise, he should strike off the last three names entered in the way-bill, as being the juniors in this hard service: luckily for me, I had just the magic three under my name,--a piece of good fortune that rescued me from a sojourn at Sparta, which, with all due deference to its venerable name, I could not contemplate without a shudder. Six hardier or better-humoured men, if I may venture to include myself in the number, never roughed it through Georgia in company. At one pass, through a swamp lying a few miles north of Macon, we were turned out, at a hut where large pieces of light-wood, as the pitch-pine is called, were procured for the party; from this point we were instructed to make a cut through the forest, whilst the lightened coach followed the road. We struck into the line pointed out, guided by one of the party who had journeyed this road before; and six merrier men, having less cause for mirth, might not have been found within this fair state.