“The same Judge Smith, when a proposition came before the Senate to build a State penitentiary, said, ’Wall in the city of Mobile; you will have your penitentiary and its inmates.’

“So far I have found it easier to travel without an escort South and West than at the North; that is, I have more care taken of me.  Every one is courteous, too, in speech.  I know that they cannot love Massachusetts, but they are careful not to wound my feelings.  They acknowledge it to be the great State in education; they point to a pretty village and say, ‘Almost as neat as a New England village.’

“Savannah, April 15....  To-day we left town at ten o’clock for a drive in any direction that we liked.  Mr. F. and I went in a buggy, and Miss S. cantered behind us on her horse.

“The road that we took led to some rice plantations ten miles out of the city.  Our path was ornamented by the live-oaks, cedar trees, the dogwood, and occasionally the mistletoe, and enlivened sometimes by the whistle of the mocking-bird.  Down low by the wheels grew the wild azalea and the jessamine.  Above our heads the Spanish moss hung from the trees in beautiful drapery.

“By mistake we drove into the plantation grounds of Mr. Gibbons, a man of wealth, who is seldom on his lands, and where the avenues are therefore a little wild, and the roads a little rough.

“We came afterwards upon a road leading under the most magnificent oaks that I ever saw.  I felt as if I were under the arched roof of some ancient cathedral.

“The trees were irregularly grouped and of immense size, throwing their hundreds of arms far upon the background of heaven, and bearing the drapery of the Spanish moss fold upon fold, as if they sought to keep their raiment from touching the earth.  I was perfectly delighted, and think it the finest picture I have yet seen.

“Retracing our steps, we sought the plantation of Mr. Potter—­a very different one from that of Mr. Gibbons, as all was finish and neatness; a fine mansion well stored with books, and some fine oaks, some of which Mr. Potter had planted himself.

“Mr. Potter walked through the fields with us, and, stopping among the negro huts, he said to a little boy, ’Call the children and give us some singing.’  The little boy ran off, shouting, ‘Come and sing for massa;’ and in a few minutes the little darkies might be seen running through the fields and tumbling over the fences in their anxiety to get to us, to the number of eighteen.

“They sat upon the ground around us and began their song.  The boy who led sang ‘Early in the Morning,’ and the other seventeen brought in a chorus of ‘Let us think of Jesus.’  Then the leader set up something about ‘God Almicha,’ to which the others brought in another chorus.

“They were a dirty and shabby looking set, but as usual fat, even to the little babies, whom the larger boys were tending.  One little girl as she passed Mr. Potter carelessly put her hand in his and said, ’Good morning, massa.’