ord,
Missus, he second to none in de world but de Debil!" She had, indeed,
good cause to detest him; for, some years before, her daughter, a young
black girl, maddened by his persecutions, had thrown herself into the
creek and been drowned, after having been severely beaten for refusing
to degrade herself. Outraged, despised, and black, she yet preferred
death to dishonor. But these are things too heart-sickening to dwell
upon. God alone knows how many hundreds of plantations, all over the
South, might furnish a similar record.

* * * * *

Early in June, before the summer heat had become unendurable, we made a
pleasant excursion to Edisto Island. We left St. Helena village in the
morning, dined on one of the gun-boats stationed near our island, and in
the afternoon proceeded to Edisto in two row-boats. There were six of
us, besides an officer and the boats' crews, who were armed with guns
and cutlasses. There was no actual danger; but as we were going into the
enemy's country, we thought it wisest to guard against surprises. After
a delightful row, we reached the island near sunset, landing at a place
called Eddingsville, which was a favorite summer resort with the
aristocracy of Edisto. It has a fine beach several miles in length.
Along the beach there is a row of houses, which must once have been very
desirable dwellings, but have now a desolate, dismantled look. The
sailors explored the beach for some distance, and returned, reporting
"all quiet, and nobody to be seen"; so we walked on, feeling quite safe,
stopping here and there to gather the beautiful tiny shells which were
buried deep in the sands.

We took supper in a room of one of the deserted houses, using for seats
some old bureau-drawers turned edgewise. Afterward we sat on the piazza,
watching the lightning playing from a low, black cloud over a sky
flushed with sunset, and listening to the merry songs of the sailors who
occupied the next house. They had built a large fire, the cheerful glow
of which shone through the windows, and we could see them dancing,
evidently in great glee. Later, we had another walk on the beach, in the
lovely moonlight. It was very quiet then. The deep stillness was broken
only by the low, musical murmur of the waves. The moon shone bright and
clear over the deserted houses and gardens, and gave them a still wilder
and more desolate look.

We went within-doors for the night very unwillingly. Havi