the
wind came chillingly. The church in which we taught school was
particularly damp and cold. There was no chimney, and we could have no
fire at all. Near the close of the winter a stove came for us, but it
could not be made to draw; we were nearly suffocated with smoke, and
gave it up in despair. We got so thoroughly chilled and benumbed within,
that for several days we had school out-of-doors, where it was much
warmer. Our school-room was a pleasant one,--for ceiling the blue sky
above, for walls the grand old oaks with their beautiful
moss-drapery,--but the dampness of the ground made it unsafe for us to
continue the experiment.

At a later period, during a few days' visit to some friends living on
the Milne Plantation, then the head-quarters of the First
South-Carolina, which was on picket-duty at Port-Royal Ferry, we had an
opportunity of seeing something of Port-Royal Island. We had pleasant
rides through the pine barrens. Indeed, riding on horseback was our
chief recreation at the South, and we enjoyed it thoroughly. The
"Secesh" horses, though small, poor, and mean-looking, when compared
with ours, are generally excellent for the saddle, well-trained and very
easy. I remember particularly one ride that we had while on Port-Royal
Island. We visited the Barnwell Plantation, one of the finest places on
the island. It is situated on Broad River. The grounds are extensive,
and are filled with magnificent live-oaks, magnolias, and other trees.
We saw one noble old oak, said to be the largest on these islands. Some
of the branches have been cut off, but the remaining ones cover an area
of more than a hundred feet in circumference. We rode to a point whence
the Rebels on the opposite side of the river are sometimes to be seen.
But they were not visible that day; and we were disappointed in our
long-cherished hope of seeing a "real live Rebel." On leaving the
plantation, we rode through a long avenue of oaks,--the moss-hung
branches forming a perfect arch over our heads,--and then for miles
through the pine barrens. There was an Italian softness in the April
air. Only a low, faint murmur--hardly "the slow song of the sea"--could
be heard among the pines. The ground was thickly carpeted with ferns of
a vivid green. We found large violets, purple and white, and azaleas of
a deeper pink and heavier fragrance than ours. It was leaving Paradise,
to emerge from the beautiful woods upon the public road,--the shell-road
which