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ing the crop, and then letting off the water suddenly, which lays it flat and dry for the sun to kill. However, the clever Mr. Rosa, who makes as good an overseer as he is Catechist, hit upon the idea of cutting the half-ripe rice, and making it into hay for the mules and oxen; and I doubt not it answered his expectations. In the garden of the overseer's house he raises two crops of "Irish potatoes," yearly; first in June, second in October: they are sown in trenches with layers of straw: they are called "Irish potatoes" because the "sweet potato" or yam, the staple vegetable (vast fields being full of it everywhere) has usurped the old name. The gardens here produce delicious figs, grapes, and melons, okra (what we call quash in India), egg plant, tomata -all in abundance. The negroes have all these in their gardens too. The woods produce whortleberries finer than any I ever saw in Germany or England, and carry their grateful shade down to the sea: they are mostly of second growth here, as about 200 years ago the whole ground was taken up by indigo fields. When the original planters took up land, it was all for indigo, while the swamps on the river margins were thrown in as worthless; but now these swamps, as just stated, give all the wealth of the planters; and indigo is left to grow wild in the second

growth woods. But how beautiful are those woods! The roads are drives through groves abounding with magnolias, bays, rhododendra, and azaleas: the aromatic scents by night, when your path is lit up by innumerable fire-flies, is delicious.

On the 1st July I left the sea-washed and forestshaded Mandeville, at 3 A.M.; the Virginia steeds, Saratoga and Equity, dashing through the scented woods lighted by fire-flies and stars. These light buggies, with their slender wheels, are the traps to fly through a country in; when you pull at the horses they dash onwards-when you slacken your hold, they slacken their pace; and their eyes are free to gaze about-no blinkers to disfigure their beautiful heads; their "hoofs that iron never shod," uncontracted, spurn the earth: for the roads are all sandy in these parts; there is no "breeching" to hide their muscular, well-turned quarters: so away they go, with nothing but collars and traces and a tight girth. The whole affair is the acme of lightness and strength combined. We soon got over the thirty-six miles to the Wakamah ferry. "Prince drove the carriage into the boat; luckily I got out ; the "young man" of the ferry was gone to the war, so we only had a negro woman to manage it. In half an hour we reached the opposite bank. Our

dusky propeller held on her pole at the stern, and I seized the iron ring at the prow; "Prince" gave a pull, and out sprung the steeds-but, alas ! back went the boat, in spite of my pull and her push. Nobly the horses struggled up the slippery bank, their hind feet in and out of the water: the bank was steep, the water deep; in a moment the boat had slipped away, and the carriage was in the river, and poor "Prince" in a very uncomfortable position. I kicked and thumped the near horse, and urged them with my voice, telling "Prince" to let go the reins; and just as the horses made a last desperate effort to escape being dragged back into the stream with the floating buggy, both splinter bars broke, and away they sprang with the pole and reins. I rushed to the near fore-wheel, which was just disappearing, and by unexpected strength held it up to the edge of the bank. The moment the horse broke loose, "Prince" scrambled over the splash-board, sprung to the bank, and held the other wheel. The poor negro woman stood aghast; the horses began eating grass. We looked down to the ferry head-how lucky! It was conscript-day at Conwayboro', and three planters' overseers had just arrived, and were getting into another boat to pass over. As soon as possible they came to the rescue, and by all our united efforts we

pulled the vehicle on to terra firma, and with bits of wood and cords, splinter bars were extemporized, and in a few minutes we were off again for the Boro' with no more damage than my valise, with all its contents, my white surplice, my books and journal, stained with the dark-brown waters of the Wakamah.

On returning to Conwayboro' I hear the news of the Federal forces being driven from near Richmond several miles down the James River; but there are no flags flying, no outward signs of rejoicing-only the people seem, individually, as if a weight were removed from their minds, by gloom being exchanged for smiles.

A warm retreat is Conwayboro'. At midday, July 2nd, thermometer 86°, and little relief at night; yet people seem to live to a good old age here. I met a lady to-day, aged seventy, strong in mind and body; has a son who has been wounded four times; her residence is North Carolina. A friend of hers, a widow, had a plantation at Pollocksville: part of General Newbern's force went up the river and took away by force 100 of her negroes. She stated as a known fact, that four ship-loads of negroes had been taken from Port Royal to Cuba, and sold to pay expenses of the war.

CHAPTER V.

Off to Columbia and the Refuge Plantation.

ON 3rd July I started for Columbia and Winsboro'. The train from Wilmington arrived at Fairbluff at 12.30 night; cars full of wounded men from Richmond, reached Kingsville, 100 miles, at 7 A.M. Near this place the Wateree River and its tributaries and swamps are traversed by a viaduct raised on timber tressel-work for five miles. Kingsville is the junction of the branches to Augusta and Columbia; therefore many of the poor wounded soldiers got out. It was sad to see them. The station hotel, by no means adequate to the demand now put upon it by the war, did not meet their wants; the hot fries and beefsteaks of the American breakfast they could not taste. I asked "mine host" if there was nothing else. "No-only pay 75 cents, and sit down." Several of them said, "We only want a little milk and water and a biscuit,"-which were

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