Little colored children of every hue were playing about the streets, looking as merry and happy as children ought to look,—­now that the evil shadow of Slavery no longer hangs over them.  Some of the officers we met did not impress us favorably.  They talked flippantly, and sneeringly of the negroes, whom they found we had come down to teach, using an epithet more offensive than gentlemanly.  They assured us that there was great danger of Rebel attacks, that the yellow fever prevailed to an alarming extent, and that, indeed, the manufacture of coffins was the only business that was at all flourishing at present.  Although by no means daunted by these alarming stories, we were glad when the announcement of our boat relieved us from their edifying conversation.

We rowed across to Ladies Island, which adjoins St. Helena, through the splendors of a grand Southern sunset.  The gorgeous clouds of crimson and gold were reflected as in a mirror in the smooth, clear waters below.  As we glided along, the rich tones of the negro boatmen broke upon the evening stillness,—­sweet, strange, and solemn:—­

    “Jesus make de blind to see,
    Jesus make de cripple walk,
    Jesus make de deaf to hear. 
      Walk in, kind Jesus! 
        No man can hender me.”

It was nearly dark when we reached the island, and then we had a three-miles’ drive through the lonely roads to the house of the superintendent.  We thought how easy it would be for a band of guerrillas, had they chanced that way, to seize and hang us; but we were in that excited, jubilant state of mind which makes fear impossible, and sang “John Brown” with a will, as we drove through the pines and palmettos.  Oh, it was good to sing that song in the very heart of Rebeldom!  Harry, our driver, amused us much.  He was surprised to find that we had not heard of him before.  “Why, I thought eberybody at de Nort had heard o’ me!” he said, very innocently.  We learned afterward that Mrs. F., who made the tour of the islands last summer, had publicly mentioned Harry.  Some one had told him of it, and he of course imagined that he had become quite famous.  Notwithstanding this little touch of vanity, Harry is one of the best and smartest men on the island.

Gates occurred, it seemed to us, at every few yards’ distance, made in the oddest fashion,—­opening in the middle, like folding-doors, for the accommodation of horsemen.  The little boy who accompanied us as gate-opener answered to the name of Cupid.  Arrived at the headquarters of the general superintendent, Mr. S., we were kindly received by him and the ladies, and shown into a large parlor, where a cheerful wood-fire glowed in the grate.  It had a home-like look; but still there was a sense of unreality about everything, and I felt that nothing less than a vigorous “shaking-up,” such as Grandfather Smallweed daily experienced, would arouse me thoroughly to the fact that I was in South Carolina.