bilo!"

Some ragged negro boys on the street, who, by the way they danced,
appeared to have india-rubber joints, and who ended their songs with a
"shout" and a "break-down," were asked if they knew the John Brown
song.

"Oh, yeth, massa; we know ole John Brown."

"Well, give it to us then."

"John Brown's body lies a mold'ring in de clay,
But his soul am a marchin' home!"

"Good! give us some more!"

"We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
On Canaan's happy _sho'_!"

Some of them doubtless still sing the new version, believing that Jeff
Davis will yet be hung, on Canaan's happy shore; and so they are all
"bound for the happy land of Canaan!" It has been stated as an
indisputable _fact_, that some of the older negroes having never heard
their masters mention the name of a Yankee except with a profane
accompaniment, have been praying for years, "O Lord! bress, we beseech
Thee, and speedily bring along de comin' of de _dam_ Yankees!"

Retracing our steps towards the steamer, we met our friends coming
from various directions. Some of them would have passed for returning
miners, who, in lieu of rich booty, were heavily laden with relics of
stone, brass and iron. While these Yankee relic-hunters failed in
getting away with old Fort Sumter itself, they successfully carried
off two six-hundred pound shots from the great English Blakely gun,
(sent over to the rebels by friends in England.) They afterwards
presented these to the New York and Long Island Historical Societies,
as enduring evidences of British neutrality during our war.

[Illustration: Ruins of Circular Church. St. Michael's Church. Ruins
of Institute Hall.

CHARLESTON IN RUINS.]

My mementoes included _several hundred dollars worth_, so to speak, of
Confederate currency; a tile from the floor of the State Bank of South
Carolina, and a Book of Common Prayer picked up among the rubbish
in St. Michael's Episcopal Church. The floor of the edifice was
covered with the shattered glass from the windows. A large shell had
ploughed its way directly through the tower, fragments passing through
the rear wall of the church, demolishing the pulpit, and even
"breaking the commandments" inscribed on tablets attached to the wall.
But the iron messenger kindly spared the precepts most needed in
Charleston, "Thou shalt not kill!" and "Thou shalt not steal!"

We climbed to the top of the tower of this ancient structure, whose
chimes had been