On the 10th of February we passed a great many sugar estates on both sides of the river, which would be agreeable objects but for the curse of slavery. For who can look with pleasure upon the foul abodes of lust, oppression, and cruelty? At the outer gate, in front of one of these “patriarchal” establishments, was a small octagonal building about 6 or 8 feet in mean diameter. The basement was of brick, pierced by small air holes, barred with iron, at the height of about 8 feet from the ground; and the upper part was of wood, terminating in a pigeon-house. Making a short stay there to take in fire-wood, we inquired into the use of the building; but all the answer we could get was, that it was a “pigeon-house.” The Baptist minister from Maine asked a negro, who was helping to bring wood on board; and from him he learned the real truth,— that it was a place of punishment and torture for the oppressed slave. We have since ascertained that such buildings are very common, and generally pass under the euphemistic name of “pigeon-houses.”

On the 11th of February—a fine frosty day—we came to Red River, branching on our left in the direction of Texas, with which country it forms an important means of communication. This river, even where it pours its waters into the Mississippi, is not more than from 300 to 500 feet wide, and yet is navigable by steamers for about 1,200 miles. My Baptist friend had recently been on a visit to Elder Wright, a planter and a slave-holder on that river.