“Between fifty and sixty,” replied he.
I heard his reply with joy, because I am approaching that age, and I have hope in its tranquillising power.
The young missionary, Miles, whose name and book you may remember as mentioned in my letter from this place last year, has had the pleasure of receiving some lines from the noble Neander in Berlin, containing these words, “The aged Neander extends his hand across the ocean, in brotherly union, to the young missionary in South Carolina, and in token of cordial acknowledgment.” Such tokens are joyful signs of the times!
Among the remarkable things which I have seen of late, I must mention the Slaves' Fair last Saturday evening, that is to say, when the slaves resident on the plantations come to Charleston with their wares and small manufactured goods, woven baskets, mats, etc., and set them out publicly, cry them aloud and sell them; the scene is lively, but it lasts only an evening!—a visit which I made to two negro schools; the large newly laid-out cemetery of Charleston, the Magnolia, and a night on Sullivan's Island!
One of these negro schools was for the children of free negroes. It was kept by a white master, and with open doors. I saw here an assembly of coloured children of all shades between raven-black and almost perfect white. The school-books, which I desired to see, were the same as those in use in the American schools for the children of the whites.
This school is a good institution, but evidently a dangerous element in the Slave States, unless it is kept in harmony by the instruction of the slaves, and the views which this will open to them.
I had also heard speak of secret schools for the children of slaves, but had extreme difficulty in discovering such a one, and when I had discovered one, to gain admittance into it, so great was the dread of the law's severity, which
