26 HENRY HILL GOODELL 



On the return march Goodell had a hard time. A heavy 

 rain-storm flooded the country, and he writes from Baton 

 Rouge on March 22: 



"Once more back at our old camping-ground, black as 

 Cherokee Indians, ragged as any old-clothesman, somewhat 

 fatigued but still jolly, we resume the thread of our narra- 

 tive and send you our salutations. On March 16, seven 

 miles from Baton Rouge, on our retreat, we were encamped 

 in a mud-puddle of pudding consistency. We managed to 

 get some rails and dry off in the sun, though I was so well 

 soaked it took me nearly all day to get thoroughly dried. 

 Towards noon, Billy Wilson's Zou-Zous hove in sight, his 

 white nanny goat marching at the head of his brigade as 

 complacently as you please. This goat he brought with him 

 from New York, and it has accompanied him in all his 

 marches, always stalking along in advance of the column. 

 At 3 P.M., we fell into line and marched one and one half 

 miles to the banks of the Mississippi, where we encamped 

 on a cotton plantation. It was about as pleasant a place 

 as I have been in in Louisiana, on a high bluff overlooking 

 the Mississippi, which spread out before us like some broad 

 lake. The banks were lined with live-oak, and back of us 

 were dense forests and impenetrable swamps. Hardly had 

 we arrived when I was detailed officer of the brigade guard. 

 Pretty rough on a fellow who had n't slept any for forty- 

 eight hours; but we were most of us in the same predica- 

 ment. Then there were three of us lieutenants, so we had 

 two hours on and four off, but the 13th lieutenant was sick 

 and I stood for him, and the Maine lieutenant unaccount- 

 ably disappeared, so I had a weary watch of it till 3 in the 

 morning, when our cavalry was driven back upon us but 



