The appearance of Augusta struck me very agreeably as I reached it, on a most delightful afternoon, which seemed to me more like June than March.  I was delighted to see turf again, regular greensward of sweet grasses and clover, such as you see in May in the northern states, and do not meet on the coast in the southern states.  The city lies on a broad rich plain on the Savannah river, with woody declivities to the north and west.  I have seen several things here since my arrival which interested me much, and if I can command time I will speak of them in another letter.

Letter XLIV.

Southern Cotton Mills.

Barnwell District, South Carolina, March 31, 1849.

I promised to say something more of Augusta if I had time before departing from Cuba, and I find that I have a few moments to spare for a hasty letter.

The people of Augusta boast of the beauty of their place, and not without some reason.  The streets are broad, and in some parts overshadowed with rows of fine trees.  The banks of the river on which it stands are high and firm, and slopes half covered with forest, of a pleasant aspect, overlook it from the west and from the Carolina side.  To the south stretches a broad champaign country, on which are some of the finest plantations of Georgia.  I visited one of these, consisting of ten thousand acres, kept throughout in as perfect order as a small farm at the north, though large enough for a German principality.

But what interested me most, was a visit to a cotton mill in the neighborhood,—­a sample of a class of manufacturing establishments, where the poor white people of this state and of South Carolina find occupation.  It is a large manufactory, and the machinery is in as perfect order as in any of the mills at the north.  “Here,” said a gentleman who accompanied us, as we entered the long apartment in the second story, “you will see a sample of the brunettes of the piny woods.”

The girls of various ages, who are employed at the spindles, had, for the most part, a sallow, sickly complexion, and in many of their faces, I remarked that look of mingled distrust and dejection which often accompanies the condition of extreme, hopeless poverty.  “These poor girls,” said one of our party, “think themselves extremely fortunate to be employed here, and accept work gladly.  They come from the most barren parts of Carolina and Georgia, where their families live wretchedly, often upon unwholesome food, and as idly as wretchedly, for hitherto there has been no manual occupation provided for them from which they do not shrink as disgraceful, on account of its being the occupation of slaves.  In these factories negroes are not employed as operatives, and this gives the calling of the factory girl a certain dignity.  You would be surprised to see the change which a short time effects in these poor people.  They come barefooted, dirty, and in rags; they are