ever again travel in South Carolina—to visit him on his plantation in the extreme north-eastern part of the state.

In December last, about the time of the passage of the ordinance of secession, I had occasion to visit Charleston, and, previous to setting out, dispatched a letter to the Colonel with the information that I was ready to be led of him "into the wilderness." On arriving at the head-quarters of secession, I found a missive awaiting me, in which my friend cordially renewed his previous tender of hospitality, gave me particular directions how to proceed, and stated that his "man Jim" would meet me with a carriage at Georgetown, and convey me thence, seventy miles, to "the plantation."

Having performed the business which led me to Charleston, I set out for the rendezvous five days before the date fixed for the meeting, intending to occupy the intervening time in an exploration of the ancient town and its surroundings.

The little steamer Nina (a cross between a full-grown[Pg 10] nautilus and a half-grown tub), which a few weeks later was enrolled as the first man-of-war of the Confederate navy, then performed the carrying trade between the two principal cities of South Carolina. On her, together with sundry boxes and bales, and certain human merchandise, I embarked at Charleston, and on a delicious morning, late in December, landed at Georgetown.

[Pg 10]

As the embryo war-steamer rounded up to the long, low, rickety dock, lumbered breast-high with cotton, turpentine, and rosin, not a white face was to be seen. A few half-clad, shiftless-looking negroes, lounging idly about, were the only portion of the population in waiting to witness our landing.

"Are all the people dead?" I inquired of one of them, thinking it strange that an event so important as the arrival of the Charleston packet should excite no greater interest in so quiet a town. "Not dead, massa," replied the black, with a knowing chuckle, "but dey'm gettin' ready for a fun'ral." "What funeral?" I asked. "Why, dey'm gwine to shoot all de boblition darkies at de Norf, and hab a brack burying; he! he!" and the sable gentleman expanded the opening in his countenance to an enormous extent, doubtless at the brilliancy of his wit.

I asked him to take my portmanteau, and conduct me to the best hotel. He readily assented, "Yas, yas, massa, I show you whar de big-bugs stop;" but at once turning to another darky standing near, he accosted[Pg 11] him with, 

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