44 HENRY HILL GOODELL 



farewell sung in the streets of Springfield at midnight. It 

 harrows up my soul and leaves me high and dry on a waste 

 of mournful reflections. Don't speak to me of currency of 

 any description. That infernal paymaster has not yet 

 blessed us with his appearance, and despair drives me in a 

 single night to swearing in bad German. Don't ask me 

 where I am? Know then, Friend of my Soul, that we are 

 seven miles from Opelousas, the rebel capital of Louisiana; 

 that it has surrendered at discretion and lies prostrate at 

 the feet of the American eagle, while that most eccentric 

 bird flops its broad wings from end to end of this most 

 rebellious state and retires to brood in silence over the de- 

 fiant aspect of Port Hudson. Since the battle of Irish Bend 

 we have pressed the rebels hard all the way to O., fighting 

 with their rear guard and taking prisoners all the way; 

 and they were so completely demoralized that they scat- 

 tered in every direction. Our cavalry made a splendid 

 charge at New Iberia, with bridles hanging loose and sabres 

 drawn, waving, shouting at the top of their lungs, they 

 galloped into the Texicans, hacking them hilter-skilter. 

 It was a grand sight and stirred my very blood, I tell you. 

 We are now at the port of Opelousas and are shipping cot- 

 ton by the scores of bales. We have sent some two thou- 

 sand bales and have about five hundred now on the landing 

 and more coming in hourly. At one place we found nine 

 hundred bales. I was on picket the other day and had the 

 good luck to fall upon one hundred and fifty rebel sabres, 

 not a bad haul altogether. 



He had a classmate who at this time was studying 

 theology, of whom he made a world of good-natured fun. 



