ute lay through the
coast islands of Georgia, as far south as the state boundary, Cumberland
Sound, and the St. Mary's River. This part of the coast is very
interesting, and is beautifully delineated on the Coast Charts No. 56-57
of the United States Coast Survey, which were published the year after
my voyage ended.

Steamers run from Savannah through these interesting interior water-ways
to the ports of the St. John's River, Florida, and by taking this route
the traveller can escape a most uninteresting railroad journey from
Savannah to Jacksonville, where sandy soils and pine forests present an
uninviting prospect to the eye. A little dredging, in a few places along
the steamboat route, should be done at national cost, to make this a
more convenient and expeditious tidal route for vessels.

Leaving Greenwich, Bonaventure, and Thunderbolt behind me on the upland,
the canoe entered the great marshy district of the coast along the
Wilmington and Skiddaway rivers to Skiddaway Narrows, which is a
contracted, crooked watercourse connecting the Skiddaway with the
Burnside River. The low lands were made picturesque by hammocks, some of
which were cultivated.

In leaving the Burnside for the broad Vernon River, as the canoe
approached the sea, one of the sudden tempests which frequently vex
these coast-waters arose, and drove me to a hammock in the marshes of
Green Island, on the left bank and opposite the mouth of the Little
Ogeechee River. Green Island has been well cultivated in the past, but
is now only the summer home of Mr. Styles, its owner. Two or three
families of negroes inhabited the cabins and looked after the property
of the absent proprietor.

I waded to my knees in the mud before the canoe could be landed, and, as
it stormed all night, I slept on the floor of the humble cot of the
negro Echard Holmes, having first treated the household to crackers and
coffee. The negroes gathered from other points to examine the canoe,
and, hearing that I was from the north, one grizzly old darky begged me
to "carry" his complaints to Washington.

"De goberment," he said, "has been berry good to wees black folks. It
gib us our freedom,--all berry well; but dar is an noder ting wees
wants; dat is, wees wants General Grant to make tings _stashionary_. De
storekeeper gibs a poor nigger only one dollar fur bushel corn,
sometimes not so much. Den he makes poor nigger gib him tree dollars fur
bag hominy, sometimes more'n dat. We