As an illustration of the disastrous effect of this overflow, I am tempted to give a brief description of a trip I made through a portion of the country that suffered in this way. Before the waters had subsided, I was ordered by Brigadier-General R.A. Cameron, commanding the district of La Fourche, in which we were located, to report at his headquarters in Brashear City, for duty on his staff. Taking a steamer to New Orleans and then the train at Algiers, which is opposite New Orleans, I proceeded very comfortably to a place called Terrebonne, where steam travel came to a sudden stop. A hand-car for a mile or two furnished transportation and then we found the railroad completely washed away by the flood above named. The General's quartermaster and myself secured a boat and with a crew of colored soldiers, we rowed some twelve miles to a place called Tigerville, on the Alligator bayou. Our route lay over the bed of the railroad, the track washed to one side of the cut, and a stream of water several feet deep on top of the bed. The road had been built through what seemed, most of the way, a primeval wilderness. The rank growth which skirted both sides of the stream, with no sound to break the silence, save the measured stroke of the oars, for even the birds which occasionally flitted across our path, were songless, though of brilliant plumage; the sight of an occasional moccasin or copperhead snake coiled on the stump of a tree, and not infrequently of an alligator sunning himself on a log, were features of a situation that must be seen to be fully realized. The few small settlements through which we passed, were drowned out. Some of the houses were nearly under water and large quantities of debris were afloat on the slowly moving current. Through the long weary hours of our boat ride, the sun poured its rays upon us with unmitigated fervor. Reaching Tigerville, we found an ugly little stern-wheeled boat tied up in what had been one of the thoroughfares of the village, and which the quartermaster at once ordered to take us to Brashear City. The captain of the craft, incidentally remarked that his boiler was in bad shape and might blow up at any time. The quartermaster was willing, however, to take the risk, and getting up steam, we were soon on our way. But with the remark of the captain in my mind, as I looked at the stagnant bayou with its waters black as ink, and gazed off upon the interminable swamps on either side, and thought of the monsters from which it took its name, I concluded that the extreme bow would be a little the safest place, and taking passage on an empty water cask I found there, I lighted my pipe and tried to feel as tranquil as the circumstances above suggested would permit. Through the winding bayous, we pursued our way and sometime after dark, we safely reached Brashear City, or that portion of it which was visible above the waste of waters. Speaking of the bayous, it