We are moving along up the river pretty swiftly, Livy darling, & by Friday I expect to get a letter from you in St Louis. It was a very genuine pleasure to receive such a nice long letter from you just before leaving New Orleans. I went to bed a trifle after midnight last night, & got up at 4 & was in the pilot house in a tolerably thick fog until breakfast. The dense foliage was beautiful in the fog. Every time we made a crossing we would be out of sight of land for some minutes, & then the great groves, like the faintest & filmiest spectres, would loom into view. They did not seem real, butⒶemendation only the spirits of trees. When we got closer—say within 600 yards—the reflections of the trees (where they stood on overflowed ground) in the glassy water, were stronger & darker than the trees themselves. We had a rattling nice storm yesterday afternoon: strong wind, blue-black sky, crawly white waves, vast sheets of driving rain, superb bursts of lightning, & a most inspiring cannonade of big thunder. And after it a couple of rainbows, & the level rays of the sinking sun turning the Natchez hills into a kind of green-tinted conflagration. It was the kind of effect we get out of the low afternoon sun at home; & I thought of it shining on you loved ones at dinner & pouring a glory upon Emmeline & the gold walls of the library.

Good bye, my darling, it’s as hot as Hades——but I love you & the kids.