xcept a one-horse gig
that carries the mail in tri-weekly trips to Charleston. That vehicle,
originally used by some New England doctor, in the early part of the
past century, had but one seat, and besides, was not going the way I
intended to take, so I was forced to seek a conveyance at a
livery-stable. At the only livery establishment in the place, kept by a
"cullud pusson," who, though a slave, owns a stud of horses that might,
among a people more _movingly_ inclined, yield a respectable income, I
found what I wanted--a light Newark buggy, and a spanking gray. Provided
with these, and a darky driver, who was to accompany me to my
destination, and return alone, I started. A trip of seventy miles is
something of an undertaking in that region, and quite a crowd gathered
around to witness our departure, not a soul of whom, I will wager, will
ever hear the rumble of a stage-coach, or the whistle of a steam-car, in
those sandy, deserted streets.

We soon left the village, and struck a broad avenue, lined on either
side by fine old trees, and extending in an air-line for several miles.
The road is skirted by broad rice-fields, and these are dotted here and
there by large antiquated houses, and little collections of negro huts.
It was Christmas week; no hands were busy in the fields, and every thing
wore the aspect of Sunday. We had ridden a few miles when suddenly the
road sunk into a deep, broad stream, called, as the driver told me, the
Black River. No appliance for crossing being at hand, or in sight, I was
about concluding that some modern Moses accommodated travellers by
passing them over its bed dry-shod, when a flat-boat shot out from the
jungle on the opposite bank, and pulled toward us. It was built of
two-inch plank, and manned by two infirm darkies, with frosted wool, who
seemed to need all their strength to sit upright. In that leaky craft,
kept afloat by incessant baling, we succeeded, at the end of an hour, in
crossing the river. And this, be it understood, is travelling in one of
the richest districts of South Carolina!

We soon left the region of the rice-fields, and plunged into dense
forests of the long-leafed pine, where for miles not a house, or any
other evidence of human occupation, is to be seen. Nothing could well be
more dreary than a ride through such a region, and to while away the
tedium of the journey I opened a conversation with the driver, who up to
that time had maintained a respectful silen