hrough the heat that shimmered up from the road,
pausing now and again in the shade of a wayside tree. At times I thought
I could bear the sun no longer. But towards four o'clock of that day a
great bank of yellow cloud rolled up, darkening the earth save for a
queer saffron light that stained everything, and made our very faces
yellow. And then a wind burst out of the east with a high mournful note,
as from a great flute afar, filling the air with leaves and branches 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 the