are every day recovering the older absentees. One of the very
best things that have happened to us was a half-accidental shooting of a
man who had escaped from the guard-house, and was wounded by a squad
sent in pursuit. He has since died; and this very evening, another man,
who escaped with him, came and opened the door of my tent, after being
five days in the woods, almost without food. His clothes were in rags,
and he was nearly starved, poor foolish fellow, so that we can almost
dispense with further punishment. Severe penalties would be wasted on
these people, accustomed as they have been to the most violent passions
on the part of white men; but a mild inexorableness tells on them, just
as it does on any other children. It is something utterly new to them,
and it is thus far perfectly efficacious. They have a great deal of
pride as soldiers, and a very little of severity goes a great way, if it
be firm and consistent. This is very encouraging.

The single question which I asked of some of the
plantation-superintendents, on the voyage, was, "Do these people
appreciate _justice_?" If they did, it was evident that all the rest
would be easy. When a race is degraded beyond that point, it must be
very hard to deal with them; they must mistake all kindness for
indulgence, all strictness for cruelty. With these freed slaves there is
no such trouble, not a particle: let an officer be only just and firm,
with a cordial, kindly nature, and he has no sort of difficulty. The
plantation-superintendents and teachers have the same experience, they
say; but we have an immense advantage in the military organization,
which helps in two ways: it increases their self-respect, and it gives
us an admirable machinery for discipline, thus improving both the
fulcrum and the lever.

The wounded man died in the hospital, and the general verdict seemed to
be, "Him brought it on heself." Another soldier died of pneumonia on the
same day, and we had the funerals in the evening. It was very
impressive. A dense mist came up, with a moon behind it, and we had only
the light of pine-splinters, as the procession wound along beneath the
mighty moss-hung branches of the ancient grove. The groups around the
grave, the dark faces, the red garments, the scattered lights, the misty
boughs, were weird and strange. The men sang one of their own wild
chants. Two crickets sang also, one on either side, and did not cease
their little monotone, even when the