ht air, echoed through the dark
woods, till it sounded like music from the grave. I have been in the
chamber of the dying; I have seen the young and the beautiful laid away
in the earth; but I never felt the solemn awfulness of death, as I did,
when, in the stillness and darkness of night, I listened to the wild
grief of that negro group, and saw the bodies of that slave mother and
her child, lowered to their everlasting rest by the side of Sam.

CHAPTER XIX.

HOMEWARD.

The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays of the winter sun,
which in Carolina lends the warmth of October to the chills of January,
when, with my portmanteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, I
gave my last "God bless you" to the octoroon woman, and turned my face
toward home.

Jim shouted "all ready," the driver cracked his whip, and we were on our
way to Georgetown.

The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges were repaired, and
we were whirled rapidly forward, and, at one o'clock, reached
Bucksville. There we met a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Our
host pressed us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel had
business with one of his secession friends residing down the road--my
wayside acquaintance, Colonel A----, and desired to stay overnight with
him. At three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to Captain B---- and his
excellent family, we were again on our way.

The sun was just sinking among the western pines, when we turned into a
broad avenue, lined with stately old trees, and rode up to the door-way
of the rice-planter. It was a large, square, dingy old house, seated on
a gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along whose banks
stretched the rice-fields. We entered, and were soon welcomed by its
proprietor.

He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courteous greeting,
remarking, when I mentioned that I was homeward bound, that it was wise
to go. "Things are very unsettled; there's no telling what a day may
bring forth; feeling is running very high, and a Northern man, whatever
his principles, is not safe here. By-the-way," he added, "did you not
meet with some little obstruction at Conwayboro', on your way up?"

"Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but when things began to
look serious, Scipio, the negro whom you saw with me, got me out of the
hobble."

"Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a particular friend of mine,
and had met me by appointment at Capt