o much reduced in wealth to attempt their
proper cultivation. It is in any case difficult to get the freedmen to
work through an entire season, even when well paid for their services,
and they flock to the towns whenever opportunity permits.

The North and South Santee rivers empty into the Atlantic, but their
entrances are so shallow that Georgetown Entrance is the inlet through
which most of the produce of the country--pitch, tar, turpentine, rice,
and lumber--finds exit to the sea. As I left the canal, which, with the
creek, makes a complete thoroughfare for lighters and small coasters
from one Santee River to the other, a renewal of the tempest made me
seek shelter in an old cabin in a negro settlement, each house of which
was built upon piles driven into the marshes. The old negro overseer of
the plantation hinted to me that his "hands were berry spicious of ebbry
stranger," and advised me to row to some other locality. I told him I
was from the north, and would not hurt even one of the fleas which in
multitudes infested his negroes' quarters; but the old fellow shook his
head, and would not be responsible for me if I staid there all night. A
tall darkey, who had listened to the conversation, broke in with, "Now,
uncle, ye knows dat if dis gemmum is from de norf he is one of wees, and
ye must _du_ fur him jis _dis_ time." But "Uncle Overseer" kept
repeating, "Some niggers here is mity spicious. Du not no who white man
is anyhow." "Well, uncle," replied the tall black, "ef dis man is a
Yankee-mans, Ise will see him _froo_."

Then he questioned me, while the fleas, having telegraphed to each other
that a stranger had arrived, made sad havoc of me and my patience.

"My name's Jacob Gilleu; what's yourn?" I gave it. "Whar's your home?"
came next. "I am a citizen of the United States," I replied. "De 'Nited
States--whar's dat? neber hurd him afore," said Jacob Gilleu. Having
informed him it was the land which General Grant governed, he exclaimed:
"O, you's a _Grant_ man; all rite den; you is one of wees--all de same
as wees. Den look a-here, boss. I send you to one good place on
Alligator Creek, whar Seba Gillings libs. He black man, but he treat you
jes like white man."

Jacob helped me launch my boat through the soft mud, which nearly
stalled us; and following his directions I paddled across the South
Santee and coasted down to Alligator Creek, where extensive marshes,
covered by tall reeds, hid the landscape from