men, I would suppose to be the prelude to a bloody fight. "Oh, Captain," would be the explanation, "we'se only a foolin'." While here, we had a little flurry of snow, which reminded us of what we had left in abundance behind, but which was a startling novelty to the natives, few, if any, of whom, had ever seen anything like it before. Their explanation was that the Yankees had brought it with them. In the course of a week or two, an assistant Inspector-General put in an appearance and gave us a pretty thorough over-hauling; but what astonished him the most, was to find us in so healthy a condition; for it appeared that because of a few cases of measles on board ship, we had been represented as being in very bad shape, and it was for sanitary reasons that we were sent to English Turn. We now began to hope for some change. The place was decidedly unhealthy. Our men were dropping off rapidly from a species of putrid sore throat which was very prevalent. The soil was so full of moisture that we had to use the levee for a burial ground. Elsewhere a grave dug two feet deep would rapidly fill with water, and to cover a coffin decently, it was necessary that two men should stand on it, while the extemporized sextons completed their task. Washington's birthday was duly celebrated, and foot-ball, wheel-barrow and sack races, among other sports, furnished fun for the whole camp. Even the inevitable greased pig was provided, but he was so greasy that he got over the lines into the swamps and--freedom. Our battalion commander, Major Shaw, arrived on the third of March, and on the following day, it was my good fortune to witness, in New Orleans, the inauguration of Gov. Hahn, who, by some form of election, had been chosen the chief executive. The unclouded sky, the rich foliage and the beautiful atmosphere, combined to make a glorious day, and the spectacular arrangements were in keeping. The place was Lafayette Square. Flags of all nations waved in the breeze. In seats, arranged tier above tier, were five thousand school children of the city, dressed in white with ribbons and sashes of the national colors, while many thousands of the citizens were gathered as spectators. Patriotic songs were sung by the little folks; five hundred musicians filled the air with sweet sounds, and in the anvil chorus which was sung, fifty sons of Vulcan kept time on as many veritable anvils; while some half dozen batteries of artillery came in heavy on the choruses. These were fired simultaneously by an electrical arrangement; and the whole was under charge of P.S. Gilmore, a name not now unknown to fame in grand musical combinations. An elaborate address by General Banks, then commanding the department, was an interesting feature of the occasion.