LETTER XVI.
Savannah, May 14th, 1850.
“The greatest autograph-collector in the world” is also the most friendly, the best-hearted man in the world, and so kind to me that I shall always think of him with gratitude. His collection of autographs is the first which I have ever been able to examine with interest and respect. Not because it occupies many folios and has a whole room appropriated to it, and could not be fully examined in less than six or seven months, which certainly might inspire respect; but because a portrait is appended to the handwriting of each distinguished person, mostly an excellent copper plate engraving, together with some letter or interesting document belonging to the history of that individual. All this gives to the autograph collection of Mr. T. a real historical or biographical interest.
His house is one of those excellent, agreeable ones which I described in my former letter. His kind, little wife, two younger sons, and the young wife of the eldest son, constitute the family; a quiet, kind, hospitable family, over which death however has lately cast its shadow. Here too the mothers have sorrowed most; and here sorrow two mothers—the elder, her eldest, grown-up son; the younger, her little boy, both lately deceased!
Savannah is the most charming of cities, and reminds me of “the maiden in the greenwood.” It is, even more than Charleston, an assemblage of villas which have come together for company. In each quarter is a green market place surrounded with magnificent, lofty trees; and in the centre of each verdant market-place leaps up a living fountain, a spring of fresh water gushing forth, shining in the sun and keeping the green sward moist and cool. Savannah might be called the city of the gushing springs; there cannot be, in the whole world, a more beautiful city than Savannah! Now, however, it is too warm; there is too much sand and too little water. But I like Savannah. I find here a more vigorous spiritual life, a more free and unprejudiced looking at things and circumstances, in particular at the great question of slavery, than in Charleston, and I have here become acquainted with some excellent, true people—people who will look the question directly and fairly in the face; who, themselves slave holders from the more remote times, are yet labouring for the instruction of the slave, for emancipation and free colonisation. Ah, Agatha! I have felt on this occasion like a weary and thirsty wanderer of the desert, who has arrived, all at once, at a verdant oasis where palms wave and fresh waters spring forth, and I have watered with tears of joy the flowers of freedom on the soil of slavery. For I suffered greatly at first in society, from the endeavours of many people to thrust upon me their contracted views, and from a want of honesty, if not in the intention, yet in the point of view from which they regarded slavery. One evening, however, when I was more than usually annoyed and quite disconcerted by the observations of the people who came to see me, I found my—deliverance.
But I must give the history in the form which it has assumed in my memory.
DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS.
| I was in company |
| With men and women, |
| And heard small talk |
| Of little things, |
| Of poor pursuits, |
| And narrow feelings, |
| And narrow views |
| Of narrow minds. |
| I rushed out |
| To breathe more freely, |
| To look on nature. |
| The evening star |
| Rose pure and bright, |
| The western sky |
| Was flushed with light, |
| The crescent moon |
| Shone sweetly down |
| Amid the shadows |
| Of the town. |
| Where whispering trees |
| And fragrant flowers |
| Stood hushed in silent |
| Fragrant bowers. |
| All was romance, |
| All loveliness, |
| Wrapped in a trance |
| Of mystic bliss. |
| I looked on |
| In bitterness, |
| And sighed and asked, |
| Why the great Lord |
| Made such rich beauty |
| For such a race |
| Of little men? |
| I was in company |
| With men and women; |
| I heard noble talk |
| Of noble things, |
| Of manly doings, |
| And manly suffering, |
| And man's heart beating |
| For all mankind. |
| The evening star |
| Seemed now less bright; |
| The western sky |
| Of paler light. |
| All nature's beauty and romance— |
| The realm of Pan— |
| Retired at once, |
| A shadow but to that of Man! |
Since then my world here has changed, as well as my feelings, towards the southern life and people. My mental vision has become clear, so that I can perceive a noble South in the South, even as its own hills arise and enable me to breathe across its plain of sand, the invigorating atmosphere of the hills, and which will yet become to the people of the south that which Moses and Joseph were to the children of Israel. For when people speak of the slave race of the south, it is a mistake merely to imply the blacks. And it is also unjust to think of the people of the Southern States as a population of slaves and slave owners. Of a truth, there exists a free people even in the Southern slave states, who are silently labouring in the work of emancipation. And though they may be but a small number—“doubt not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom!”
It appears to me probable, from what I have seen and heard, that Georgia will become one of the leading powers in this advancing work of emancipation. Georgia, the youngest of the first thirteen states of the Union, was one of the most prominent in the work of American independence, and the spirit of freedom has been powerful here from the beginning.
All nations preserve traces of their origin, and receive a certain stamp from the men and the circumstances which determine the character of their youthful minds. This is quite natural. And it is easy to see a cause for the more free and fresh spirit which prevails in Georgia if we reflect upon the character of the first founder of the State, James Oglethorpe, and the colony which grew up under his protection.
I must tell you something about this man, whose history I have lately read, and of his work, because among so much which is here incomplete, halting, imperfect, from which the eye turns away dissatisfied, it is a refreshment to fix it upon a human life which will stand the test, which pursued one great purpose from the commencement to the close of its working-day, laboured for it and brought it to a successful issue; upon a man whose sole object in life was to liberate the captive, to make the unfortunate happy, and who, for this purpose, founded a state!
It is not much more than a hundred years since James Oglethorpe came to this country at the head of a little band of emigrants, and pitched his tent upon the high ground between the river Savannah and the sea, where now stands the city of Savannah. He was an Englishman, and had spent a richly diversified life at the University, in the army, and as a member of parliament. A man of heroic character, with a heart full of benevolence and energy, he was the first who sought to alleviate the sufferings of debtors, which at that time were extreme in England; these unfortunate men being often immured in prison for life on account of the smallest debt. As a commissioner for the inspection of jails he obtained the liberation of great numbers, and then sought out for them, as well as for persecuted Protestants, an asylum, a home of freedom in the free lands of the New World, where poverty should not be opprobium; where true piety might freely worship God in its own way.
It was not difficult for him to find in England men who could take an interest in a grand scheme for human happiness. A society was organised for the carrying out of Oglethorpe's plan, which became realised by a grant from George II. of the land which lay between the Savannah and Alatamaha, from the head-springs of those rivers due west of the Pacific, and which was placed for twenty one years under the guardianship of a corporation “in trust for the poor.” The common seal of the corporation bore on one side a group of silk-worms at their labour, with the motto non sibi sed aliis—not for themselves, but for others—thereby expressive of the disinterested intention of the originators, who would not receive for their labours any temporal advantage or emolument whatever. On the reverse side was represented the genius of Georgia, with a cap of liberty on her head, a spear in the one hand, and a horn of plenty in the other. The reported wealth and beauty of this land of promise awoke the most brilliant hopes for the future.
Oglethorpe sailed from England in November, 1732, with his little band of liberated captives and oppressed Protestants, amounting in number to about one hundred and twenty persons, and after a voyage of fifty-seven days reached Charleston. Immediately after his arrival in the New World, he proceeded up the Savannah river, and landed on a high bluff, which he at once selected as the site of his capital, and where Savannah now stands. At the distance of half a mile dwelt the Yamacraw tribe of Indians, who with their chief Tomo-chichi at their head, sought alliance with the strangers.
“Here is a little present,” said the red men, stretching out before him a buffalo-hide, painted on the inner side with an eagle's head and feathers. “The eagle's feathers are soft, and betoken love. The buffalo's hide is warm, and betokens protection. Therefore love and protect our little families!”
Oglethorpe received with kindness these friendly demonstrations.
It was on the first day of February when the little band of colonists pitched their tents on the banks of the river. Oglethorpe's tent stood beneath four tall pine trees, and for twelve months he had no other shelter. Here in this beautiful region was the town of Savannah laid out, according as it stands at the present day, with its regular streets and large square in each quarter of the town, whilst through the primeval woods a road was formed to the great garden by the river-side, which was soon to become a nursery-ground for European fruits and the wonderful natural products of America.
Such was the commencement of the commonwealth of Georgia. The province became already in its infancy an asylum for the oppressed and suffering, not only among the people of Great Britain, but of Europe itself. The fame of this asylum in the wilderness rang through Europe. The Moravian brethren, persecuted in their native land, received an invitation from England, of a free passage to Georgia for them and for their children, provisions for a whole season, a grant of land to be held free for ten years, with all the privileges and rights of native English citizens, and the freedom to worship God in their own way; this invitation they joyfully accepted.
On the last day of October, in the year 1733, with their Bibles and hymn books, with their covered wagons, in which were conveyed their aged and their little children, and one wagon containing their few worldly goods, the little Evangelical band set forth in the name of God, after prayers and benedictions, on their long pilgrimage. They sailed up the stately Rhine between its vineyards and ruined castles, and thence, forth upon the great sea in the depth of winter. When they lost sight of land, and the majesty of ocean was revealed to them, they burst forth into a hymn of praise. When the sea was calm and the sun rose in its splendour, they sang “how beautiful is creation; how glorious the Creator!” When the wind was adverse they put up prayers,—when it changed, thanksgivings. When they sailed smoothly with a favouring gale, they made holy covenants like Jacob of old; when the storm raged so that not a sail could be set, they lifted up their voices in prayer and sang amid the storm, for “to love the Lord Jesus gave great consolation.”
Thus arrived they at the shore of the New World. Oglethorpe met them at Charleston and bade them welcome; and five days afterwards the far wayfarers pitched their tents near Savannah. Their place of residence was to be yet farther up the country. Oglethorpe provided them with horses, and accompanied them through the wilderness, through forest and morass. By the aid of Indian guides and blazed trees, they proceeded onward till they had found a suitable spot for their settlement: it was on the banks of a little stream, and they called it Ebenezer. There they built their dwellings, and there they resolved to erect a column in token of the providence of God, which had brought them safely to the ends of the earth.
The same year was the town of Augusta founded, which became a favourite place of resort for the Indian traders. The fame of Oglethorpe extended through the wilderness, and in May came the chiefs of the eight tribes of the Muskhogees to make an alliance with him. Long King, the tall, old chief of the Oconas, was the spokesman for the eight.
“The Great Spirit which dwells everywhere around us,” said he, “and who gave breath to all men, has sent the Englishmen to instruct us.” He then bade them welcome to the country south of the Savannah, as well as to the cultivation of such lands as their people had not used; and in token of the sincerity of his words, he laid eight bundles of buckskins at the feet of Oglethorpe. The chief of the Coweta tribe arose and said, “We are come five-and-twenty days journey to see you. I have never desired to go down to Charleston, lest I should die by the way: but when I heard that you were come, and that you are good men, I came down to you that I might hear good things.” He then gave the European exiles leave to summon such of their kindred as loved them out of the Creek towns, so that they might live together. “Recal,” added he, “the Yamassees, that they may be buried at peace among their forefathers, and that they may see their graves before they die.”
A Cherokee appeared among the English; “Fear nothing,” said Oglethorpe, “but speak freely.” “I always speak freely,” replied the mountain-chief. “Wherefore should I be afraid? I am now among friends; I feared not when I was among enemies.” And the settlers and the Cherokees became friends.
A Chocta-chief, “Red-Shoes,” came the following year, and proposed to trade, “We come from a great distance,” said he, “and we are a great nation. The French built forts amongst us. We have long traded with them, but they are poor in goods; we desire that a trade may be opened between you and us.”
The good faith which Oglethorpe kept in his transactions with the Indians, his noble demeanour and bearing, the sweetness of his temper, won for him the confidence of the Red-men. He was pleased with their simple manners and customs, and endeavoured to enlighten their minds, and to instruct them in the knowledge of that God whom they ignorantly worshipped.
Oglethorpe framed laws for Georgia; one of which forbade the introduction of intoxicating liquors, another the introduction of slavery. “Slavery,” said Oglethorpe, “is contrary to the gospel, as well as to the fundamental law of England. We will not permit a law which allows such horrid crime.” And when, later, various of “the better class” of people endeavoured to introduce negro slaves, Oglethorpe resolutely opposed it; declared that if slaves were introduced into Georgia, he would no longer concern himself with the colony. He continued stedfast, enforcing his determination by his almost arbitrary power, although many of the planters, in the belief that they could not successfully cultivate the land with white labourers, threatened to leave the colony.
Oglethorpe continued with unabated activity to labour for the well-being and prosperity of Georgia, extending and securing its boundaries, establishing towns, and regulating the commonwealth. He visited the Evangelical brethren at Ebenezer, laid out the streets for their new town, and praised their good management. Within a few years the product of raw silk within this little colony had increased to ten thousand pounds weight yearly, beside which indigo had become a staple article of traffic. In the most earnest manner these colonists opposed the use of negro-slaves, maintaining that the whites could, equally well, labour under the sun of Georgia. Their religion united them with each other; they settled their disputes among themselves. Every occurrence in life became significant of a divine providence, and the fervency of their worship disturbed not the calmness of their judgment. They had peace, and were happy.
From the Moravian towns, Oglethorpe journeyed southward, passing through the narrow inland channels where the shores were covered by woods of pine, evergreen oaks and cedars, which grew down to the water's edge, and which resounded with the melody of birds. On St. Simon's island, fire having cleared the grass from an old Indian field, the streets of Frederica were laid out, and, amid the carolling of hundreds of birds, a fort was constructed on a bluff commanding the river.
The highlands of Scotland had already sent a company of bold mountaineers, who sought for a home under Oglethorpe's banner; and, now attired in the Highland costume, Oglethorpe sailed up the Alatamaha to visit them at Darien, where they had taken up their quarters. By the help of these brave men, Oglethorpe determined to extend the boundaries of Georgia as far as St. John's river in Florida; and the Indians of the Coweta-tribe hearing the rumour of war, sent forth their gaily-painted warriors, to wield the hatchet in aid of Oglethorpe. Long speeches and exchange of presents were followed by the wild war-dance; and the Muskhogees and the Cherokees gathered around him to renew their former friendly alliance.
A great council of the Muskhogee chiefs was held at Cusitas on the Chattahouchee; and Oglethorpe making his way by solitary paths, fearless of the noonday heat or the dews of night, or of the treachery of hireling Indians, came to this great assembly to talk to his red friends,—to distribute presents, to drink the sacred safkey with the Creek warriors, to smoke the pipe of peace, and to conclude a firm alliance with them in war or in peace.
In 1734, Oglethorpe made a voyage to England, and won universal favour for his young colony. In the year 1736 he returned, taking with him three hundred emigrants, whom he cared for like a father; and having reached land, he ascended with them a rising ground, not far by Tybee island, where they all fell on their knees and returned thanks to God, for having safely conducted them to Georgia. Among these was a second company of Moravians, men who had “a faith above fear,” and who in the simplicity of their lives seemed to revive the primitive Christian communities where state and rank were unknown, but where Paul the tentmaker, and Peter the fisherman, presided with the demonstration of the Spirit.
With this company came John and Charles Wesley; Charles, the secretary of Oglethorpe, and both burning with desire to become apostles of Christ among the Indians, and to live in the New World “a life wholly and entirely consecrate to the glory of God.” They desired to make of Georgia a religious colony. “The age in which religious and political excitements were united was passed,” adds Bancroft, from whose “History of the United States” I have taken the above narrative; “and with the period of commercial influence fanaticism had no sympathy. Mystic piety, more intense by its aversion to the theories of the eighteenth century, appeared as the rainbow; and Wesley was as the sower, who comes after the clouds have been lifted up, and the floods have subsided, and scatters his seed in the serene hour of peace.”
After this we find Oglethorpe at the head of the English army in the war with the Spaniards in Florida, and here he was brave and victorious, foremost always in danger, sharing with the common soldier all the hardships of the camp, and even amid all the excitements of war regardful of the property of the peaceable inhabitants; and in victory humane and gentle towards his captives. In July, 1742, Oglethorpe ordered a general thanksgiving throughout Georgia, for the re-establishment of peace.
Thus was Georgia colonised and defended; and when its founder and preserver, James Oglethorpe, approached his ninetieth year, he was able to look back to a good work, to a flourishing state—the boundaries of which he extended and established, and the spiritual and material life of which he was the founder, so that it well merited the praise that was given to it in England—“never has a colony been founded on a more true or more humane plan.”
He was spoken of, even in the last year of his life, as one of the finest figures that had ever been seen; a type of venerable old age. His faculties and his senses were as fresh as ever, and his eye as bright: on all occasions he was heroic, romantic, and full of chivalric politeness—the most beautiful impersonation of all the virtues and endowments which distinguish our ideal of a true cavalier. And so warm was his heart, so active his zeal for the well-being of humanity, it mattered not of what race or nation, that long after his death his name became a watchword for vast benevolence of heart.
After his death, many of his high-minded laws were annulled; intoxicating liquors were introduced into Georgia, and, by degrees, even negro slavery. But the spirit of freedom and hospitality which was the life of Oglethorpe's life, which was the animating influence of the earliest settlers of Georgia, lives still in Georgia. I see it, I hear it, I feel it. And the emigration hither from the Northern States, and in particular from the states of New England, and which increases more and more, and which has exercised an influence upon the people and the institutions, are to me a proof of this, and a pledge for the still further development of the life of freedom. I observe this also in the more free and happier life of the negroes in Savannah; in the permission which is given them there to have their own churches, and where they themselves preach. Besides this, much is done in Georgia for the instruction of the negro-slaves in Christianity, for their emancipation, and their colonisation at Liberia, on the coast of Africa. And every year a vessel goes thence from Savannah, with coloured emigrants from among the emancipated slaves of the slave-states, provided with the necessaries of life, money, and furniture for their dwellings. I have seen various letters from this colony written by the emigrants themselves, which showed the good understanding which existed between them and the mother-states, and various individuals there, in particular, through their religious associations. For each religious denomination maintains its connection with its members in the African colony, which is for the rest under the direction of its own coloured officials and ministers.
The more I see of these coloured people the more is my curiosity and my interest aroused, not that I see among the negroes anything great, anything which makes them superior to the whites. I cannot divest my mind of the idea that they are, and must remain, inferior as regards intellectual capacity. But they have peculiar and unusual gifts. Their moral sense is, it seems to me, as pure and delicate as their musical perception; their sensibility is acute and warm, and their good temper and cheerful disposition are evidently the peculiar gifts of nature, or more correctly gifts of God. And though they may not have shown themselves original in creative genius, yet there is in their way of comprehending and applying what they learn a really new and refreshing originality: that may be heard in their peculiar songs; the only original people's songs which the New World possesses, as soft, sweet, and joyous as our people's songs are melancholy. The same may be observed in their comprehension of the Christian doctrines, and their application of them to daily life.
Last Sunday I went to the church of the Baptist negroes here with Mr. F., one of the noble-minded and active descendants of the Pilgrim fathers, who resides in Savannah, and who has shown me much kindness. The name of the preacher was Bentley, I believe, and he was perfectly black. He spoke extempore with great animation and ease. The subject of his discourse was the appearance of the Saviour on earth, and the purpose for which he came. “I remember,” said he, “on one occasion, when the President of the United States came to Georgia, and to our town of Savannah—I remember what an ado the people made, and how they went out in great carriages to meet him. The carriages were decorated very grandly, and the great cannon pealed forth one shot after another. And so the President came into the town in a grand, beautiful carriage, and drove to the best house in the whole town, and that was Mrs. Scarborough's house! And when he came there he seated himself in the window. But a cord was drawn around the house, to keep us negroes and other poor folks from coming too near. We must stand outside, and only get a sight of the President as he sate at the window. But the great gentlemen and the rich folks, they went freely up the steps and in at the door, and shook hands with him. Now, did Christ come in this way? Did he come only to the rich; did he shake hands only with them? No! Blessed be the Lord! he came to the poor! He came to us, and for our sakes, my brothers and sisters!” “Yes, yes! Amen! He came to us! Blessed be His name! Amen! Hallelujah!” resounded through the chapel for a good minute or two; and the people stamped with their feet, and laughed and cried, with countenances beaming with joy. The preacher then continued to tell how Christ proved himself to be the messenger of the Highest. “Now imagine, my friends,” said he, “that we here are a plantation of negro labourers. But the owner of the plantation is away; he is a long, long way off, over the sea in England, and the negroes on the plantation have never seen his face. They have never seen the face of any man higher than the overseer. But now they hear that the owner of the plantation, their lord and master, is coming there. And they are very curious to see him, and they inquire about him every day. One day they see the overseer coming and with him another gentleman, whom they have never seen before. But his dress is not so good, and much simpler than the overseer's; the overseer has a fine, buttoned coat on, a white cravat, a handsome hat on his head, and besides that, gloves on his hands. The strange gentleman, on the contrary, has no gloves on, and is dressed in quite a simple, careless way. And if the negroes had not known the overseer, they never would have believed that this was the master. They see, however, that the strange gentleman gives orders to the overseer that he shall send one negro here and another there, that many shall be called to him and to the overseer, and the negroes must do all that he wishes and commands, and from this they can see that he is the master.”
How living and excellent is this representation of negro-life to the negroes, drawn as it is fresh from their everyday experience!
In the afternoon of the same day I also accompanied Mr. F. to hear another negro preacher. This was an old mulatto, a powerful, handsome, old man, who had acquired some property, and who was greatly looked up to by his people as a preacher and baptizer. He resembled the whites both in appearance and manner. He mentioned, during his discourse, that he was ninety-five years old; and he related his religious experience; his spiritual afflictions, and agony, which were so extreme as to drive him almost to self-murder; and lastly, his feelings when the comprehension of Christ, and salvation through Him became clear to his understanding. “The whole world became changed to me,” continued he; “everything seemed as if new-born, and beaming with new beauty. Even the companion of my life, my wife, seemed to me to be again young, and shone before me in new beauty, and I could not help saying to her, ‘Of a truth, my wife, I love thee!’ ” A young woman on the bench where I sate bent down, almost choked with laughter. I bent down also, but to shed tears, which pleasure, sympathy, my own life's experience, and the living, child-like description, so faithful to nature, had called forth; after the sermon Mr. F. and I shook hands with the powerful old Andrew Marshall.
The choir in the gallery—negroes and negresses—sang quartets, as correctly and beautifully as can be imagined. At the close of the service a woman came forth, and, kneeling before the altar, seemed to be under great distress of mind, and the old preacher prayed for her in her sorrows and secret grief, a beautiful and heart-felt prayer. Thus to pray in the chapel for the afflicted seems to be customary among the Baptists in this country.
May 15th.—It is now very warm here, and the heat is enervating. If it were not so I should enjoy myself in Savannah, in the family where I am staying; where the master and mistress as well as the domestics—negroes—seem all to be influenced by the same spirit of good temper and kindness, and where I have made some very agreeable acquaintance. Among those whom I love most are a family named M‘I., one of those who labour for the instruction and colonisation of the slaves; the daughters themselves instruct the little negro children on their father's estate, and praised very much their facility of learning; in particular they seemed to have pleasure in pictures and stories, and easily understood them. This gave me great delight; and what a beautiful sphere of action is opened by this means for the young daughters of the south! But I fear they are yet few who embrace it. I have arranged, next year, to take a pleasure trip with this amiable family to Florida, where they have a son residing. But man proposes, and God disposes!
There are many beautiful places in the neighbourhood
of Savannah, on the high banks of the river, and the
number of beautiful trees and flowers is untold. It
delighted me to hear Swedish family-names in many of
the appellations of these, and thus to recognise tokens of
Linnæus; as for instance, I here found KRudbeckia,
Lagerströmia, a very pretty shrub with pale red flowers,
resembling Tellandsia, and many others. The kind ladies
here—and I have become acquainted with some extraordinary
women among them drove me about in their carriages to see the places and forest parks in the neighbourhood.
Bonaventura is a natural park, and is one of the remarkable
features of the place and the south. The splendid
live-oaks, growing in groupes and avenues, with their
long hanging moss, form on all sides the most beautiful
Gothic arcades, and when the evening sun casts his
glowing beams through these deep, gloomy vistas, the
most lovely effects are produced. The young artists of
America ought to come here and study them.
A portion of this beautiful park is being converted into a burial ground, and white marble gravestones raise themselves below the hanging mosses of the live-oaks. This moss vegetation is now in blossom; the blossom is a small green button-like flower of the pentandria class, with a delicate scent. Other magnificent flowers of the south, the magnolia grandiflora, the Cape jasmin, and many others, are now beginning to be generally in bloom, but the scent of these is strong and too powerful for my taste. The scent of the woods is overpowering and not wholesome. Ladies of delicate complexions become flushed and suffer from riding through the woods at this season. The flowers operate upon them like poison. To me they appeared suffocating. What odour is there so pleasant and refreshing as that of our fir-woods, and our lilies of the valley?
To-day, when I went out alone to a little grove in the midst of the plain of sand near the town, I found an abundance of the most beautiful strawberries, and wondered how it could be that the negro children left them in peace. I gathered and tasted them, nay I did not taste them, for they had no sign of taste. They were a kind of spurious strawberry. Another spurious beauty in the green fields of the south is a little, low shrub, a kind of Cactus which is very common, called “the prickly pear,” and which bears a beautiful pale yellow flower, like a single mallow, but which is full of an invisible kind of minute hooked prickle, and after gathering a flower it is many days before you can free your fingers from the tiny spines.
One beautiful institution which I visited here is the asylum for the orphan children of all nations and all religious persuasions. It is under the direction of ladies, also of various nations and religious opinions. I visited it with one of the directresses, who was a Jewess, and much attached to her peculiar religious doctrines, which according to her representation, approached those of the Christian Unitarian. The asylum was under the care of Catholic Sisters of Mercy, women with good countenances, but horrible bonnets or hooded caps, which would require a person to be very far gone in world renunciation before they could endure. Both the children and the establishment were a gladdening sight. The children are allowed to make choice of the religious sect to which they will attach themselves, and I saw three young sisters, one of whom was a Methodist, the second a Baptist, and the third a member of the episcopalian church.
I must now prepare to leave Savannah and go to Augusta, higher up in the State. I think of ascending the river from Savannah, although I am told that the journey is wearisome, and the scenery monotonous. But I greatly prefer the steam-boat to the railway.
I shall write more from Augusta, my little Agatha!
P.S. When I come home I shall bring you lovely workbaskets, made from the scales of the fir-cone, and lined inside with red silk, which these kind ladies have given me, and which are their own work. They look queer, but very ornamental.