rriment,
mounted the first bluff, where I found a large barn occupied by a couple
of score laughing, noisy negroes employed thrashing out the crop: from
one of these I received directions how to reach Savannah, whose spires
were clearly to be seen.

At the end of about five miles, I found myself an exceeding dirty
gentleman entering upon the long well-shaded mall which protects the
river-front of the city. I was, by this, tolerably tired of my walk; for
the light sandy soil was ankle-deep, and the sun broiling. After passing
one block or range of counting-houses, I gladly read on the first of the
next range the name of a friend from whom I felt certain of welcome.

A capital dinner, and a glass of the finest Madeira in the States, made
light of past labour; and during the evening I was glad to learn that
the Washington had arrived with her freight all safe and well. My friend
Matthew now informed me he had given the boys in the boat directions to
wait for me half an hour, which they did, fully anticipating that I
should never clear the cane-brake and swamp lying between the river and
the fields; and, in sooth, it required some perseverance.

SAVANNAH.

With this little city I was exceedingly pleased. The weather was
remarkably mild, the sun shone brightly; and I took much pleasure in
wandering along the quiet sandy streets, flanked by double rows of the
Pride-of-India tree.

Except the range of buildings immediately facing the river, the
dwellings are nearly all detached; each surrounded by its own offices,
many by a garden filled with orange and other evergreens: they are
mostly built on the true Southern plan, of two stories, with a broad
gallery running entirely round; being of wood and painted white, with
bright green _jalousies_, they give to the streets a gay and lively
look, which is exceedingly cheerful and attractive.

Here are, however, several very ambitious-looking dwellings, built by a
European architect for wealthy merchants during the palmy days of trade;
these are of stone or some composition, showily designed, and very
large, but ill-adapted, I should imagine, for summer residences in this
climate. They are mostly deserted, or let for boarding-houses, and have
that decayed look which is so melancholy, and which nowhere arrives
sooner than in this climate.

Here is a very well designed and well-built theatre, but, like the
houses I speak of, a good deal the worse in consequence of neglect