th an inclosure, for the purpose of making a
cemetery on the spot. Yet there they stand, as solemn as ever, lifting and
stretching their long irregular branches overhead, hung with masses and
festoons of gray moss. It almost seemed, when I looked up to them, as if
the clouds had come nearer to the earth than is their wont, and formed
themselves into the shadowy ribs of the vault above me. The drive to
Bonaventure at this season of the year is very beautiful, though the roads
are sandy; it is partly along an avenue of tall trees, and partly through
the woods, where the dog-wood and azalea and thorn-trees are in blossom,
and the ground is sprinkled with flowers. Here and there are dwellings
beside the road. "They are unsafe the greater part of the year," said the
gentleman who drove me out, and who spoke from professional knowledge, "a
summer residence in them is sure to bring dangerous fevers." Savannah is a
healthy city, but it is like Rome, imprisoned by malaria.

The city of Savannah, since I saw it six years ago, has enlarged
considerably, and the additions made to it increase its beauty. The
streets have been extended on the south side, on the same plan as those of
the rest of the city, with small parks at short distances from each other,
planted with trees; and the new houses are handsome and well-built. The
communications opened with the interior by long lines of railway have, no
doubt, been the principal occasion of this prosperity. These and the
Savannah river send enormous quantities of cotton to the Savannah market.
One should see, with the bodily eye, the multitude of bales of this
commodity accumulating in the warehouses and elsewhere, in order to form
an idea of the extent to which it is produced in the southern states--long
trains of cars heaped with bales, steamer after steamer loaded high with
bales coming down the rivers, acres of bales on the wharves, acres of
bales at the railway stations--one should see all this, and then carry his
thoughts to the millions of the civilized world who are clothed by this
great staple of our country.

I came to this place by steamer to Charleston and then by railway. The
line of the railway, one hundred and thirty-seven miles in length, passes
through the most unproductive district of South Carolina. It is in fact
nothing but a waste of forest, with here and there an open field, half a
dozen glimpses of plantations, and about as many villages, none of which
are consider