es of
trees. But it bore, too, a savor that was new to me,--a salt savor, deep
and fresh, that I drew down into my lungs. And I knew that we were near
the ocean. Then came the rain, in great billows, as though the ocean
itself were upon us.

The next day we crossed a ferry on the Ashley River, and rode down the
sand of Charlestown neck. And my most vivid remembrance is of the great
trunks towering half a hundred feet in the air, with a tassel of leaves
at the top, which my father said were palmettos. Something lay heavy
on his mind. For I had grown to know his moods by a sort of silent
understanding. And when the roofs and spires of the town shone over the
foliage in the afternoon sun, I felt him give a great sigh that was like
a sob.

And how shall I describe the splendor of that city? The sandy streets,
and the gardens of flower and shade, heavy with the plant odors; and the
great houses with their galleries and porticos set in the midst of the
gardens, that I remember staring at wistfully. But before long we
came to a barricade fixed across the street, and then to another. And
presently, in an open space near a large building, was a company of
soldiers at drill.

It did not strike me as strange then that my father asked his way of no
man, but went to a little ordinary in a humbler part of the town. After
a modest meal in a corner of the public room, we went out for a stroll.
Then, from the wharves, I saw the bay dotted with islands, their white
sand sparkling in the evening light, and fringed with strange trees,
and beyond, of a deepening blue, the ocean. And nearer,--greatest of
all delights to me,--riding on the swell was a fleet of ships. My father
gazed at them long and silently, his palm over his eyes.

"Men-o'-war from the old country, lad," he said after a while. "They're
a brave sight."

"And why are they here?" I asked.

"They've come to fight," said he, "and take the town again for the
King."

It was twilight when we turned to go, and then I saw that many of the
warehouses along the wharves were heaps of ruins. My father said this
was that the town might be the better defended.

We bent our way towards one of the sandy streets where the great houses
were. And to my surprise we turned in at a gate, and up a path leading
to the high steps of one of these. Under the high portico the door was
open, but the house within was dark. My father paused, and the hand he
held to mine trembled. Then he stepped