“Mrs. G. tells me an anecdote which shows the Southern sentiment on the one subject.  The ladies of Charleston were much pleased with Miss Murray, and got up for her what they called a Murray testimonial, a collection of divers pretty things made by their own hands.  The large box was ready to be sent to England, but alas for Miss Murray!  While they were debating in what way it should be sent to ensure its reaching her without cost to herself, in an unwise moment she sent twenty-five dollars to ‘Bleeding Kansas,’ and the fit of good feeling towards her ebbed; the ‘testimonial’ remains unsent.

“April 23, Charleston.  This place is somewhat like Boston in its narrow streets, but unlike Boston in being quiet; as is all the South.  Quiet and moderation seem to be the attributes of Southern cities.  You need not hurry to a boat for fear it will leave at the hour appointed; it never does.

“We took a carriage and drove along the Battery.  The snuff of salt air did me good.

“Then we went on to a garden of roses, owned and cultivated by a colored woman.  She has some twenty acres devoted to flowers and vegetables, and she owns twenty ‘niggers.’  The universal term for slaves is ‘niggers.’  ‘Nigger, bring that horse,’ ‘Nigger, get out of the way,’ will be said by the finest gentleman, and ‘My niggers’ is said by every one.

“I do not believe that the slaves are badly treated; there may be cases of it, but I have seen them only sleek, fat, and lazy.

“The old buildings of Charleston please me exceedingly.  The houses are built of brick, standing end to the street, three stories in height, with piazza above piazza at the side; with flower gardens around, and magnolias at the gates; the winding steps to the mansions festooned with roses.

“I have just called on Miss Rutledge, who lives in the second oldest house in the city; herself a fine specimen of antiquity, in her double-ruffled cap and plaided black dress; she chatted away like a young person, using the good old English.

“April 26.  To-day Mr. Capers called on me.  I was pleased with the account he gave me of his college life, and of a meeting held by his class thirty years after they graduated.  Some thirty of them assembled at the Revere House in Boston; they spread a table with viands from all sections of the country.  Mr. Capers sent watermelons, and another gentleman from Kentucky sent the wines of his State.

“They sat late at table; they renewed the old friendships and talked over college scenes, and when it was near midnight some one proposed that each should give a sketch of his life, so they went through in alphabetical order.

“Adams was the first.  He said, ’You all remember how I waited upon table in commons.  You know that I afterwards went through college, but you do not know that to this man [and he pointed to a classmate] I was indebted for the money that paid for my college course.’