The next morning L. and I were awakened by the cheerful voices of men and women, children and chickens, in the yard below.  We ran to the window, and looked out.  Women in bright-colored handkerchiefs, some carrying pails on their heads, were crossing the yard, busy with their morning work; children were playing and tumbling around them.  On every face there was a look of serenity and cheerfulness.  My heart gave a great throb of happiness as I looked at them, and thought, “They are free! so long down-trodden, so long crushed to the earth, but now in their old homes, forever free!” And I thanked God that I had lived to see this day.

After breakfast Miss T. drove us to Oaklands, our future home.  The road leading to the house was nearly choked with weeds.  The house itself was in a dilapidated condition, and the yard and garden had a sadly neglected look.  But there were roses in bloom; we plucked handfuls of feathery, fragrant acacia-blossoms; ivy crept along the ground and under the house.  The freed people on the place seemed glad to see us.  After talking with them, and giving some directions for cleaning the house, we drove to the school, in which I was to teach.  It is kept in the Baptist Church,—­a brick building, beautifully situated in a grove of live-oaks.  These trees are the first objects that attract one’s attention here:  not that they are finer than our Northern oaks, but because of the singular gray moss with which every branch is heavily draped.  This hanging moss grows on nearly all the trees, but on none so luxuriantly as on the live-oak.  The pendants are often four or five feet long, very graceful and beautiful, but giving the trees a solemn, almost funereal look.  The school was opened in September.  Many of the children had, however, received instruction during the summer.  It was evident that they had made very rapid improvement, and we noticed with pleasure how bright and eager to learn many of them seemed.  They sang in rich, sweet tones, and with a peculiar swaying motion of the body, which made their singing the more effective.  They sang “Marching Along,” with great spirit, and then one of their own hymns, the air of which is beautiful and touching:—­

    “My sister, you want to git religion,
      Go down in de Lonesome Valley,
    My brudder, you want to git religion,
      Go down in de Lonesome Valley.

    CHORUS.

    “Go down in de Lonesome Valley,
    Go down in de Lonesome Valley, my Lord,
    Go down in de Lonesome Valley,
        To meet my Jesus dere!

    “Oh, feed on milk and honey,
    Oh, feed on milk and honey, my Lord,
    Oh, feed on milk and honey,
        Meet my Jesus dere! 
    Oh, John he brought a letter,
    Oh, John he brought a letter, my Lord,
    Oh, Mary and Marta read ’em,
        Meet my Jesus dere!

    CHORUS.

    “Go down in de Lonesome Valley,” etc.