undly until
morning. We learned afterward that the Rebels had not intended to cross
over, but were attempting to take the guns off one of our boats, which
they had sunk a few days previous. The timely arrival of the battery
from Beaufort prevented them from accomplishing their purpose.

* * * * *

In April we left Oaklands, which had always been considered a
particularly unhealthy place during the summer, and came to "Seaside," a
plantation on another and healthier part of the island. The place
contains nearly a hundred people. The house is large and comparatively
comfortable. Notwithstanding the name, we have not even a distant
glimpse of the sea, although we can sometimes hear its roar. At low tide
there is not a drop of water to be seen,--only dreary stretches of
marsh-land, reminding us of the sad outlook of Mariana in the Moated
Grange,--

"The level waste and rounding gray."

But at night we have generally a good sea-breeze, and during the hottest
weather the air is purer and more invigorating than in many parts of the
island.

On this, as on several other large plantations, there is a
"Praise-House," which is the special property of the people. Even in the
old days of Slavery, they were allowed to hold meetings here; and they
still keep up the custom. They assemble on several nights of the week,
and on Sunday afternoons. First, they hold what is called the
"Praise-Meeting," which consists of singing, praying, and preaching. We
have heard some of the old negro preachers make prayers that were really
beautiful and touching. In these meetings they sing only the
church-hymns which the Northern ministers have taught them, and which
are far less suited to their voices than their own. At the close of the
Praise-Meeting they all shake hands with each other in the most solemn
manner. Afterward, as a kind of appendix, they have a grand "shout,"
during which they sing their own hymns. Maurice, an old blind man, leads
the singing. He has a remarkable voice, and sings with the greatest
enthusiasm. The first shout that we witnessed in the Praise-House
impressed us very much. The large, gloomy room, with its blackened
walls,--the wild, whirling dance of the shouters,--the crowd of dark,
eager faces gathered around,--the figure of the old blind man, whose
excitement could hardly be controlled, and whose attitude and gestures
while singing were very fine,--and over all, the red glare of th