IT was a big river, below Memphis; banks brimming full, everywhere,and very frequently more than full, the waters pouring out overthe land, flooding the woods and fields for miles into the interior;and in places, to a depth of fifteen feet; signs, all about,of men's hard work gone to ruin, and all to be doneover again, with straitened means and a weakened courage.

A melancholy picture, and a continuous one;--hundreds of miles of it.

Sometimes the beacon lights stood in water three feet deep,in the edge of dense forests which extended for miles without farm,wood-yard, clearing, or break of any kind; which meant thatthe keeper of the light must come in a skiff a great distanceto discharge his trust,--and often in desperate weather.

Yet I was told that the work is faithfully performed,in all weathers; and not always by men, sometimes by women,if the man is sick or absent. The Government furnishes oil,and pays ten or fifteen dollars a month for the lighting and tending.

A Government boat distributes oil and pays wages once a month.

The Ship Island region was as woodsy and tenantless as ever.

The island has ceased to be an island; has joined itself compactlyto the main shore, and wagons travel, now, where the steamboats usedto navigate. No signs left of the wreck of the 'Pennsylvania.'

Some farmer will turn up her bones with his plow one day, no doubt,and be surprised.

We were getting down now into the migrating negro region.

These poor people could never travel when they were slaves;so they make up for the privation now. They stay on a plantation tillthe desire to travel seizes them; then they pack up, hail a steamboat,and clear out. Not for any particular place; no, nearly anyplace will answer; they only want to be moving. The amountof money on hand will answer the rest of the conundrum for them.

If it will take them fifty miles, very well; let it be fifty.

If not, a shorter flight will do.

During a couple of days, we frequently answered these hails.

Sometimes there was a group of high-water-stained, tumble-down cabins,populous with colored folk, and no whites visible; with grasslesspatches of dry ground here and there; a few felled trees,with skeleton cattle, mules, and horses, eating the leaves andgnawing the bark--no other food for them in the flood-wasted land.

Sometimes there was a single lonely landing-cabin; near itthe colored family that had hailed us; little and big, old and young,roosting on the scant pile of household goods; these consistingof a rusty gun, some bed-ticks, chests, tinware, stools, a crippledlooking-glass, a venerable arm-chair, and six or eight base-bornand spiritless yellow curs, attached to the family by strings.

They must have their dogs; can't go without their dogs.

Yet the dogs are never willing; they always object; so, one after another,in ridiculous procession, they are dragged aboard; all four feetbraced and sliding along the stage, head likely to be pulled off;but the tugger marching determinedly forward, bending to his work,with the rope over his shoulder for better purchase.

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