After the service, there were six couples married.  Some of the dresses were unique.  One was particularly fine,—­doubtless a cast-off dress of the bride’s former mistress.  The silk and lace, ribbons, feathers and flowers, were in a rather faded and decayed condition.  But, comical as the costumes were, we were not disposed to laugh at them.  We were too glad to see the poor creatures trying to lead right and virtuous lives.  The legal ceremony, which was formerly scarcely known among them, is now everywhere consecrated.  The constant and earnest advice of the minister and teachers has not been given in vain; nearly every Sunday there are several couples married in church.  Some of them are people who have grown old together.

Thanksgiving-Day was observed as a general holiday.  According to General Saxton’s orders, an ox had been killed on each plantation, that the people might that day have fresh meat, which was a great luxury to them, and, indeed, to all of us.  In the morning, a large number—­superintendents, teachers, and freed people—­assembled in the Baptist Church.  It was a sight not soon to be forgotten,—­that crowd of eager, happy black faces, from which the shadow of Slavery had forever passed.  “Forever free! forever free!” those magical words of the Proclamation were constantly singing themselves in my soul.  After an appropriate prayer and sermon by Mr. P., and singing by the people, General Saxton made a short, but spirited speech, urging the young men to enlist in the regiment then forming under Colonel Higginson.  Mrs. Gage told the people how the slaves in Santa Cruz had secured their liberty.  It was something entirely new and strange to them to hear a woman speak in public; but they listened with great attention, and seemed much interested.  Before dispersing, they sang “Marching Along,” which is an especial favorite with them.  It was a very happy Thanksgiving-Day for all of us.  The weather was delightful; oranges and figs were hanging on the trees; roses, oleanders, and japonicas were blooming out-of-doors; the sun was warm and bright; and over all shone gloriously the blessed light of Freedom,—­Freedom forevermore!

One night, L. and I were roused from our slumbers by what seemed to us loud and most distressing shrieks, proceeding from the direction of the negro-houses.  Having heard of one or two attempts which the Rebels had recently made to land on the island, our first thought was, naturally, that they had forced a landing, and were trying to carry off some of the people.  Every moment we expected to hear them at our doors; and knowing that they had sworn vengeance against all the superintendents and teachers, we prepared ourselves for the worst.  After a little reflection, we persuaded ourselves that it could not be the Rebels; for the people had always assured us, that, in case of a Rebel attack, they would come to us at once,—­evidently thinking that we should be able to protect them.  But what could the shrieks mean?  They ceased;