arcely affording a
shelter.

A representative mulatto man came to tell us. An inspection was made and
resulted in this man being put in charge to build up the community.
Lumber and food were provided and the people set to work under his
charge. From time to time word came to us, and after some months the
tall representative came again. He had been asked by the people to come
and bring their thanks to the Red Cross for "de home, de gard'n, de pig,
and de chick'n dey all has now."

The thanks they had emphasized and proved by the heavy basket that
Jackson had carefully brought all the forty miles. It contained
seventy-one fresh eggs--the gift of seventy-one families--being a
contribution of one egg from each family, from the day or two previous
to his leaving on his mission.

Domestic gardens were a new feature among these islanders, whose whole
attention had been always given to the raising of the renowned "Sea
Island Cotton," the pride of the market, and a just distinction to
themselves and the worthy planter. The result of this innovation was
that, when we left in July, it was nearly as difficult for a pedestrian
to make his way on the narrow sidewalks of Beaufort because of piled-up
vegetables for sale from the islands, as it had been in October to pass
through the streets because of hungry, idle men and women.

Nothing better illustrates the native good heart of these people than
their kindly interest in and for each other. Often the young men,
without families, would club together and put up a house for some lone
old "auntie," who had neither family nor home, and occasionally there
seemed to develop among them an active philanthropist. Of this type was
Jack Owens, who rebuilt his own "done gone" premises. One day as the
field agent was driving out on some inspection he met Jack walking into
town.

His decrepit neighbor's house had burned a few weeks before, and Jack
had gotten lumber and rebuilt the house himself. In describing the utter
devastation, Jack explained that "all de house and de well was
burned"--and he had built another house and was coming in on foot "for
funituh to funish it." Jack had lost his ox, "a big ox," he said, in the
storm, and now he "hadn't any nuther" to plow his ground. He pleaded for
another--if it was only "a lil' critter it would grow big"--and it would
help him so much.

The appeal was not to be resisted. Dr. Hubbell treasures to this day the
satisfaction he felt in procuring