|
VISITS TO
BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA
AND TRAVELS SOUTH
JOSEPH W. SMITH
BOSTON
ADDISON C. GETCHELL & SON, PRINTERS
1907
_______________________
TO MY
FRIENDS
I DEDICATE
THIS LITTLE BOOK OF REMINISCENCES
JOSEPH W. SMITH
ANDOVER, MASS., MARCH 1907
Pg. 5
BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA, IN 1853
IN November, 1853, when I was
twenty-two years of age, I was called to a position that involved
responsibility, energy, tact, and no small degree of personal risk.
I duly felt the importance of my position, and accepted it with all
the enthusiasm of youth, feeling highly complimented by the trust
imposed in me, and yet not carelessly considering the cost. The
duties of the office I was to fill called me to the South, and, as
my mission threatened to be a disturbing one, my movements required
the utmost caution. With a full sense, therefore, of what was
required of me I rather impatiently awaited my orders, which came in
the following “Letter of Instructions:”—
“BOSTON, NOV.4, 1853.
Mr. J.W. SMITH:
Dear Sir:—You will proceed, this afternoon, to New York,
and report yourself at Messrs. Naylor & Co.’s, 99 John
Street, holding yourself in readiness to leave New York tomorrow, by
steamer to Savannah, in case our New York house so direct. On your
arrival at Savannah you will call upon the house of which you will
receive the address in New York, for later instructions by telegraph
than we now give you. Unless these later instructions are to the
contrary, you will proceed with the utmost dispatch from Savannah to
Brunswick. If, when you reach Brunswick, the Agnes has
arrived there, deliver to the Captain the letter of Messrs. A.
Cunningham & Sons (now in New
Pg. 6
York). Show him the bill of lading of the
cargo, endorsed to our order, and direct him to proceed to New York
or to Philadelphia, according to your last instructions and letter
herewith. Should the Agnes not have arrived, you will please
call upon Mr. John Brooks in Brunswick, and arrange with him
to have the Agnes come to anchor in a safe position in the
harbor or Brunswick, far enough away from shore to protect the
captain from losing his crew, and return immediately to Savannah to
be ready there to receive new instructions by mail or by telegraph.
After the Agnes has come to anchor, let Mr. Brooks
inform you at Savannah of the arrival, if a mail leaves immediately,
by mail; if no reliable public conveyance goes, let Mr.
Brooks at our expense send a special messenger to you at
Savannah. The moment you hear of the arrival of the Agnes,
telegraph the news to Naylor & Co., New York, and then proceed
immediately to Brunswick, deliver your letters to Capt. Scott,
and show him our letter and bill of lading, and direct Capt.
Scott to do what your last instructions say, be it to land the
cargo in Brunswick, to go to New York or Philadelphia. The letter
that lies in New York for Capt. Scott directs him to go to
New York. It must not be delivered to him unless such are your last
instructions. Should you have no later advices, by telegraph or by
mail, you will act upon the last instructions received at New York
before sailing. Be very particular at Savannah to inquire at
telegraph office for messages to you. You will find a copy of this
letter, by mail in Savannah, in case you should lose this.
Yours most truly
Naylor & Co.
Pg. 7
There must seem in this a mystery
as great as that which surrounds the secret deliberations of
national councils where the vital interests of a people are
concerned; and yet it was only regarding a cargo of railroad iron,
and its aim was merely to protect the rights of one individual
against the fraud or failure of another. And this brings me to the
story of what I saw an did as agent for one of the parties
concerned.
The ship Agnes, Capt. J. Edwards Scott,
owned by Smith, Dove & Company of Andover, Mass., was bound from
England to Brunswick, Ga., with a cargo of railroad iron (1405)
tons, to be used upon a projected railroad, extending westerly from
Brunswick towards Albany, Ga., and New Orleans, of which only five
miles had already been laid. Naylor & Company were the charterers
of the vessel, and the railroad iron was sold to a New York company
having charge of land speculations in the town of Brunswick, then
striving to become a rival of Savannah in commercial importance.
This company failed to meet its obligations, and it became necessary
that steps should be taken to hold this property in the interest of
its creditors. Hence my agency in the matter and the necessity for
secrecy which lay in the fact that the builders of the road and the
townspeople were on the qui vive for the arrival of the ship,
that construction work might be pushed without interruption.
Interference certainly promised most unpleasant results.
In conformity with my “Letter of Instructions,” on the
afternoon of November 4, 1853, I started for New York, and, on the
morning of the 5th, immediately reported myself to Mr.
W.L. King, the managing member of the firm
Pg. 8
of Naylor & Company, who gave me my final
instructions regarding the course I was to pursue as follows:—
“As soon as you arrive in Savannah inquire at the Post
Office for letters and at the telegraph office for dispatches, and
see if there is any other J.W. Smith in Savannah who may have
your letters. In telegraphing you, we shall not mention the name of
the vessel, but if we say ‘the ship,’ you will, of coursed, know we
mean the Agnes. Please be very particular, in Savannah, not
to have it known that the object of your journey is to change the
destination of the ship Agnes. Also please see that neither
Mr. John Brooks, at Brunswick, or the pilot, make any mention
of it. We will direct your letters to Joseph Warren Smith,
Savannah. Our address is Naylor & Co., 99 John Street, New York.
Our telegraph messages will perhaps be signed Naylor & Co., N. &
Co., or W.L. King. On your arrival at Savannah, if you have
time, write us, informing us if there is any news of the Agnes;
also informing us on what days the steamboats leave Brunswick for
Savannah. Stop at the Pulaski House, which is the best house
there. Call upon Cohen & Fosdick, and say that you
may have some letters sent to their care, but don’t say that you are
going to Brunswick unless you are obliged to do so, and upon no
account tell them the object of your visit. We expect to telegraph
you on Monday next at Savannah with our latest instructions. We
will have our messages left at the telegraph office, where you must
inquire two or three times a day.”
With these momentous instructions
in my pocket I embarked November 5, at 4 P.M., on the steamer
Augusta,
Pg. 9
Captain Lyon, for Savannah, but when
evening came on—“mother of dews”—I found that due accommodations for
sleeping could not be provided. It was the season for Southern
migration, even then quite extensive, and to get a berth was
impossible. I appealed to the captain, but he couldn’t help me any,
and blamed the agents for selling so many tickets when they must
have known there was not sufficient accommodation. Who ever knew an
agent of steamboats that would not sell as long as there were
buyers, though crowded quarters and stifled passengers had long been
crying, “Hold! Enough"? The quarters in this case didn’t hold
enough, and so I had to make other arrangements for a bed, and,
taking two for the settee cushions, I deposited myself under the
saloon table, with my overcoat for a pillow, and passed three nights
under most uncomfortable trial. My condition was not as
happy as that of the imprisoned cobbler in Pickwick who slept under
his table, for he, through a fertile fancy, imagined himself
on a four-post bestead. But I made the best I could of it, and laid
my case under the table for future consideration.
Cape Hatteras did not forget to give us a shaking up, a
sort of caper sauce not pleasant for inexperienced lambs of
passage, who devoted their time, principally, to “casting up their
accounts.” We were accompanied all of one day by the steamer
James Adger, bound for Charleston, S.C., which vessel was but a
mile distant, and it was a relief to feel that we were not quite
alone upon the waste of waters.
We arrived at our dock in Savannah, November 8, after a
passage of fifty-seven hours from New York—about an average trip.
Unaccustomed to the sea, I found it difficult
Pg. 10
to overcome the tendency to roll acquired on
shipboard, and on stepping ashore it seemed that I must have
something to hold on to; and it was two or three days before I
regained my “land legs.” I commenced my business at once, according
to instructions, including a visit to the rice mills owned by
Cohen & Fosdick, and had quite a pleasant interview with
the firm. Among my new acquaintances at Savannah was a Mr.
Raymond, a classmate of my cousin, Peter Smith Byers.
November 9th. I took passage on the
steamer D.L. Adams for Brunswick, Ga., for the importance of
which place great expectations were entertained, doomed not yet to
be realized. These expectations were raised, in large part, upon
hopes such as my mission was to frustrate, hopes built upon paper,
with speculation for their base. About the year 1835 great efforts
were made to make this port one of note and a rival of the city of
Savannah. The town was handsomely laid out, upon paper, and several
operations commenced in harmony with the avowed intentions. An
immense hotel was erected,—so regarded at the time,—streets were
outlined but never graded, sites were set aside for public
structures, parks were contemplated, and wharves to accommodate an
extensive commerce were planned; but expectation failed as did
private enterprise, and hope was at a great discount, when a new
railroad was proposed. Its heralded advantages gave a stimulus to
the still living ambition of the place. But, alas! “the best laid
schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,” and, as in thousands of
other cases, hope’s flattering tale was told in but one chapter.
The railroad was a failure, and the lofty pageantry of the dream
melted into
Pg. 11
thin air, leaving but a wreck behind. The
fairy slipper was lost, and Cinderella had to wear her old shoes.
Perhaps, however, some day it may be found. Let us sincerely hope
so.
When I reached Brunswick, I immediately sought out
Mr. John Brooks to whom I had a letter of introduction. I was
met very cordially by him, but, at the same time, he felt badly to
know that the trouble with the Land Company was of such a serious
nature; nevertheless, he was ready to carry out instructions. I was
placed in a peculiar position, being obliged to remain in Brunswick
two days, or while the inland steamer should make her trip to
Palatka, Fla., and return. At the hotel every one was talking about
the overdue Agnes with the railroad iron. Seemingly ignorant
of everything affecting their interests in the ship, I mixed with
traders, sawmill operators, canal projectors, land speculators, and
the rest of the crowd, and overheard much of their conversation,
concluding that, under the circumstances, I must keep “mum,” as I
seemed to be the ‘one man power” to spoil all their calculations.
Had my errand been known to the citizens of Brunswick, I would have
been much safer at that time north of Mason and Dixon’s
line. However, I got in and out of Brunswick, having
accomplished my purpose, and it afforded me much matter for
self-congratulation when I could again breathe the air of heaven
without fear of being molested.
I remained in Savannah nearly two weeks before the
Agnes arrived. I was made aware of her arrival by a knock upon
the door of my room at the Pulaski House one morning at about 3
o’clock, the intelligence being brought
Pg. 12
by Captain Scott himself. He had
received his letters from the pilot, and came to anchor in the lower
bay at Brunswick, and, leaving his vessel in charge of the first
officer, hastened to Savannah to learn the facts. Fortunately, I
had on the previous evening received a telegram from New York to
have the Agnes go to the wharf at Brunswick and discharge her
cargo but to land the iron in bond, and for me to stay, enter the
iron at the Custom House, and see that all instructions were carried
out. Captain Scott left for Brunswick by the morning boat,
and I awaited detailed instructions by letter from New York. After
making preliminary arrangements at the Savannah Custom House, where
Mr. Boston, the collector, assisted me in filling out my
entry blanks, I proceeded to Brunswick, calling at Darien for
Mabray, the collector of that district. I was fortunate to have
made preparations, for the Agnes was the first ship for many
years to enter Brunswick harbor, and the collector was rusty in the
practice of his office. On my arrival at Brunswick I expected to
see the vessel made fast to the wharf; but no, she had touched upon
the inner bar, and was then lying there. A schooner was brought
into requisition to take off some 300 tons of her cargo, which
lightened her so that she came off at high water, and proceeded up
to town. The wharf that had been constructed especially for her
proved to be not strong enough, for the first night that she came in
contact with the poorly constructed fabric she broke away some sixty
feet of it. The natives were alarmed lest the entire wharf should
go to pieces. The timbers which were carried away journeyed down to
Jekyl Island and back at intervals, occupying two or three days in
transit.
Pg. 13
The sad news that the cargo of
railroad iron was to be landed in bond struck dismay to the hearts
of all. Though the true condition of the Land Company was now
generally known, some were confident that everything would come our
right in the end. But their hopes were never realized. We got
everything in readiness and commenced discharging, but it was slow
work, as the vessel heeled over so much with the ebb and flow of the
tide. A line of rail was laid down the (d)wharfed wharf, and the
iron conveyed to a suitable spot upon the shore, where it was neatly
piled up in eight square piles about 3 ½ feet high. The iron was in
12, 15, and 18 feet lengths.
Here I Had my first experience with negro labor. I
managed the shore gang in the interest of Naylor & Company;
Captain Scott and myself knew each other well, and we worked
together admirably. My crew consisted of a dozen men with Eli
and the mule extra, and for five weeks we labored together.
Christmas holidays were approaching and the captain hardly knew what
to do as the negroes would have four days to themselves at that
time. We talked over the matter, got what we could of both gangs
that were working, and supplemented the number with a few men we
chanced to pick up in the town, to each of whom we paid, in his own
right hand, a five dollar bill. After the holidays the old gang
resumed work, being quite fresh after visiting their friends in the
country. We had, as I mentioned, Eli and the mule. Eli
was pretty stubborn sometimes, so much so that it was difficult to
tell which was the mule. There was one negro in the gang who was
designed for an “end man” in the Ethiopian world’s concert, for he
kept us all in good spirits. His
Pg. 14
name was Josh Berry—a real
blackberry—and we could not speak to him without his boiling over
with mirth. He was coal black, bandy-legged, and about
middle-aged. He was a very fair barber and would have made his mark
in tonsorial operations in any Northern city. Among the men were
also two six-footers whom we called Jake and Jim.
These men stood next to the platform car and received the pieces
from the others who took them from the slings, and, being very
stalwart, they handled the iron pieces as if they were fence rails.
Eli occasionally would be fooling around the car, and I heard
Jake say, just as an 18-foot rail was being put thereon,
“Take kar, dar, Eli; take kar; ef yer don’t yer’ll be pawin’
round in de water after dat mool of yourn.”
Many were the incidents connected with that memorable
trip to Brunswick that are pleasant to recall, and some not so
pleasant. When the iron was all landed, I presumed my labor in the
business had ceased; but Mr. Mabray, the collector, in
disregard of my remonstrance that it was not my business to build
Southern bonded warehouses, compelled me to put a wooden fence
around the iron, which I did at a cost of eighteen dollars and fifty
cents. I had some fun out of it, however. I remarked to the
standing committee of the town who superintended the building of the
fence, that perhaps the iron was in some danger of being eaten by
the hungry swine round about, and that it might lie heavy on their
stomachs, but if it were pig-iron, there would be no doubt about it,
and the fence must be a necessity. The committee saw the irony
of the remark, but did not rail.
I greatly enjoyed the companionship of Captain Scott,
Pg. 15
while the Agnes was discharging her
iron, rooming on board the ship at night and taking my meals at the
hotel. Mr. Brooks’s family, who also came from the captain’s
home, Wiscasset, Me., used to visit the ship, accompanied at times
by Mr. Samuel H. Allen, a sort of lieutenant of Mr. Brooks,
and many a pleasant evening we had together. There were five of
Mr. Brooks’s daughters all grown up, and I, being a young man,
of course received some pretty hard thrusts, which, however, I
managed to parry. One evening the chair I was sitting in came down
with a tremendous crash, and I lay sprawling upon the floor. This
would have been a settler to a timid man, and I had always fancied
myself timid, but I wriggled through the difficulty like and eel,
and, rising to my feet, I repeated to the young ladies the old
saying: “Love in a tub and the bottom fell out.” This created a
laugh, and mortification flew off in the explosion. I have often
since said, when speaking of the foregoing, that if one can only
break the spell of bashfulness—even though he break a chair to do
it—he is all right, and the tide turns in his favor.
There was a canal project, to the digging of which I
have already alluded, that was to unite the waters of the Altamaha
river with the arm of the sea a few miles above Brunswick, by which
lumber was to be brought from the country above and floated down the
canal, connecting with deep water at Brunswick, but the bottom
dropped out of the project as disastrously as did that of the tub
above alluded to, under pressure, and I opine that Mr. Collins
made more money from renting his canal negroes to discharge the
Agnes than he did from profits of the ditch that never was dug.
The entire movement to make Brunswick
Pg. 16
a big commercial city, a centre for trade in
Southern products, to be connected by rail and boat with the Gulf
cities, went down as decidedly as I did in the crushed chair,
perhaps to rise again under better auspices, as I did. But the
building up of new places and the resuscitating of old ones are not
works of speedy accomplishment. Enterprise must give the momentum
and time prove kind. This same arm of the sea that Brunswick is
situated upon was once thought of as a Southern naval station, the
water being so deep.
I made the acquaintance of quite a number of the
citizens of Brunswick, who paid me marked attention, still clinging
to the hope that though the iron was bonded it would eventually be
devoted to the purpose for which it was intended. Among those with
whom I became most intimate was a merchant named Friedlander,
a German from New York, who had come South with a large stock of
clothing, Yankee notions, etc., to make his fortune. I speak of
him, in particular, because the acquaintance thus commenced was
renewed after a long lapse of time, as mentioned in a subsequent
narrative. There was a newspaper in the place which gave weekly an
account of the progress of business matters, the landing of the
bonded iron among the rest. There was a great deal of grumbling
among the people that the iron was not laid down at once, as they
expected, but no violence was threatened. They seemed to be lulled
by a faint idea that the rails would be released eventually, and the
road would be completed, or at least advanced till the interior of
the State was gained, and thereby facilitate the moving of cotton to
the seaboard for shipment to Europe. Unfortunately the
Pg. 17
money bases of all the public business
operations of Brunswick were not of a sound character; speculation
languished and hope fled.
It was very strange that Mr. John Brooks did not
come in for a share of abuse, as he was the one above all others who
knew about the condition of the New York land and railroad
speculators and withheld it from the people. It would have taken
but a very little stirring to awaken a profound sensation against
him and me, but the opportunity went by and nothing was done. I
associated intimately at the hotel with people most interested in
the fortunes of the new town in which this proposed railroad was a
very important factor, among whom was Mr. Helm, who had a
good deal of money staked in various ways. Another one, Collins,
was engaged in digging a canal, employing a large number of negroes
of whom we hired the most of our men required for discharging
cargo. I left the bonded iron, after I had built the fence round
it, in charge of a Mr. Bourke, who was appointed deputy
collector under Mr. Mabray.
When the ship lay on the bar previous to her coming up
to the wharf, she was visited by quite a number of the town’s
people, who had not seen for twenty years so large a ship in
Brunswick harbor. The harbor is a very pretty one, and the view
from the spot where the Agnes lay towards Jekyl and St.
Simon’s Islands was truly charming. These islands are handsomely
wooded, and St. Simon’s, with its beautifully proportioned beacon,
is an object of pleasure not often met on the Southern coast. Game
of almost every description abounds upon these islands, and not
infrequently deer are captured there. The
Pg. 18
entrance to the harbor lies between St. Simon’s
and Jekyl Islands, and is comparatively narrow, rendering the harbor
one of complete protection against storms. Oysters in great
abundance literally line the creeks in the vicinity, and, though
small, they are quite palatable and rich. Ducks in myriads inhabit
these waters, and any day large numbers can be seen either flying
over or swimming the creeks at high water. Sea Island cotton is
produced on some of the other islands, and on one there is a
plantation where a force of 500 negroes is employed.
Inland steamers were at that time plying twice a week
between Savannah and Jacksonville, Fla. An opposition line had just
been started, and my first passage was by this line on the D.L.
Adams, having bidden my Brunswick friends “Farewell! to all a
kind farewell,” not deeming it probable that I should ever see any
of them again. That trip was to me a novel one. Leaving Savannah,
we passed down the Savannah river a number of miles into the Warsaw,
then up by Thunderbolt and Bonaventura; but, although we had
actually traveled fifteen miles by boat we were then only four
miles, “as the crow flies,” from Savannah, so crooked was our path
through the low marshy lands seaward from the city. Continuing on,
we passed through sounds and creeks and narrow rivers, some so
narrow and shallow that two steamboats cannot pass each other, and,
not infrequently, the boats ground, lying in the mud over one tide.
When they get fast to the soft bottom all efforts, of course, are
made to get them off, the most effectual being to send a boat ahead,
manned by half a dozen negroes, who, taking a stout rope with them,
fasten it to a long pole thrust deeply down into the
Pg. 19
soft mud in a slanting position, and then
attach the other end of the rope to the capstan on board the
steamer; that, turned by the aid of the engines, soon drags them out
of the mud. We grounded in the Mud river at half tide but could not
bring the above method into requisition because the stream was so
wide. For some miles the tide went out and left us as high and dry
as if we had been in the middle of a prairie. I tried to see for
myself how far I could thrust a pole into the mud, and, taking one
about 20 feet long, I forced it down, by my own strength, from 12 to
15 feet. We were released when the water returned to half tide, and
went on our way rejoicing. I truly said that this route was a novel
one. Now we would be shut into a narrow stream and then we would
come out again almost into the open sea. It was varied enough, but
the variety afforded very little amusement. Darien, at which port
we stopped, wore quite a busy aspect, and a number of schooners were
loading with lumber for Southern Georgia. The famous cypress tree
grew luxuriantly all along our route, its somber drapery waving in
the wind, giving a sort of funereal aspect to the scene. “Dug-outs”
are made from the trunks of the cypress, and some of them are very
tastily finished. I witnessed a race, subsequently, upon the
Savannah river, between several “dug-outs,” all manned by sturdy
negroes from the island plantations. Dubigon, a rich planter
on one of the islands near Brunswick, was very fond of this kind of
sport, and always proud if his “boys”—all negroes are “boys” down
South—were the winners of the race.
Returning to Savannah, to await messages from New York,
I had as much opportunity afforded me for seeing
Pg. 20
Southern city life as limited time allowed.
Stopping at the Pulaski House, the best in the city, I met many of
the first citizens whom business or pleasure called to the hotel.
The house was owned and managed by Colonel Willberger,
assisted by a Mr. McKenzie of Philadephia, with James
Oakes of New York as steward. Two steamship lines were running
to and from New York and Philadelphia. I was quite intimate with
Captain Lyon of the Augusta steamer. Through Cohen
& Fosdick, to whose care my letters had been directed, I made
quite a number of valuable acquaintances; prominent among them were
Mr. Hertz of Cohen & Hertz; Paddleford &
Fay, Philadelphia steamship agents, and Claghorn &
Cunningham, general merchants and ship chandlers. I was
indebted to Mr. Boston, collector of the port, for valuable
services and advice in connection with the discharge of the
Agnes’s cargo.
Savannah is a very pretty city, pleasantly situated upon
a bluff overlooking sea and country at elevated points, the cupola
of the Exchange commanding a fine view of both. Agreeable
surroundings, therefore, with pleasant companionship, made my
sojourn in Savannah very satisfactory. I was invited out to dine
several times, and, of course had an opportunity for seeing
something of the inside of Southern society. I was at Mr.
Hertz’s one day at dinner when the subject of slavery was
introduced. “Well, Mr. Smith,” said my host, “you see how I
am situated. It is perfectly natural for me to hold slaves, for I
inherited the two or three that I own from my father. They were
brought up, as it were, in the family, with this difference; I as
master, they as slaves. The right and wrong of the matter does not
Pg. 21
trouble me, as I know nothing beyond what
actually exists. They, of course, are my property, according to the
law of the land, which acknowledges slaves as property that can be
bought and sold.” I let him do all the talking on the subject,
although I indulged my own thought. Kindness was the rule extended
to me everywhere, in spite of my damaging errand, and I felt
grateful for the attentions shown a stranger. Hospitality is the
prevailing sentiment at the South, as far as my narrow experience
enables me to testify. I was happy in this, made more so by the
reflection that I had so well achieved my success in performing the
important office with which I had been intrusted. It was a young
man’s first responsible business, and I may well be pardoned for
feeling proud that confidence in me had not been misplaced.
One gentleman in savannah, Mr. Mitchell, from
Portland, Me., cotton buyer for Cohen & Fodick,
evinced much interest in me, as did a Scotchman by the name of
Galloway, because I was from Scotch stock. Mr. Galloway
gave me a very cordial welcome, and, in the enjoyment of such
kindnesses as were manifested by him and others, the threat of
homesickness while waiting was banished, and I wrote to friends at
home in the most cheerful spirit. I remained in Savannah partly to
settle up matters, but more particularly to await the arrival of the
Agnes, about which I had begun to feel anxious, as it was
only a day or two’s sail from Brunswick to Savannah. She was more
than a week in making the passage, for she had nothing in her but
ballast and was blown far off the coast. Upon arrival she went on
the berth and loaded cotton for Boston.
Pg. 22
I embarked for home in the
steamship Keystone State, Captain Hardie, for
Philadelphia, and, after a rather disagreeable passage, we reached
Delaware Bay; the rain ceased, but the weather was so thick that the
captain had to creep into the bay by soundings only. After we were
fairly in the bay, it cleared up and a regular northwester blew
right square in our teeth. The weather had been “soft,” but during
the night everything was frozen up in Philadelphia as hard as
granite. I found it the same in New York and on my way home through
Connecticut. I felt it the keener because, when I left Savannah,
the thermometer showed 70°
above, while on my arrival home, it revealed the startling figure of
30° below zero. So wide a
difference could hardly be fancied possible. As I remember, it was
an exceptional year for coldness, and I suffered exceedingly from
the sudden change.
Pg. 23
BRUNSWICK TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AFTER, AND TRAVELS FURTHER SOUTH
ON the 15th of February,
1878, a party of four, comprising of George W. Coburn and
self and the “better half” of each, left Boston for Florida, over
the New York & New England railroad. The trip to Harlem river was
made with ease and comfort, and there, embarking on the great
transfer steamer Maryland, we made the circuit of New York
city to Jersey City, where we were to take cares for the “sunny
South.” On our way we passed “Hell Gate,” properly named, where the
recent explorations had been made by government engineers with a
view to deepening the channel (long so perilous for commerce), and
enabling sailing vessels to pass with safety. The plan of the
engineers was to tunnel through the solid rock under the bed of the
river, and then by electricity explode a mine of dynamite there
laid, letting the debris down into the cavity below. A Herculean
task, but what cannot science accomplish! We passed Blackwell’s
Island, that great receptacle of crime and degradation, but so grand
and orderly in all its arrangements; and under the great wire bridge
that connects New York with Brooklyn—a gigantic enterprise. I noted
great changes in East and North rivers that had occurred since my
first visit over thirty years before, but the greatest change of all
was in respect to shipping. Then forests of masts extended along
the entire
Pg. 24
water front from East river round to the
Hudson, and the harbor was full of vessels at anchor waiting for
dockage. Now sailing vessels are almost abandoned for steamers, and
from the Battery to Pier Fifty and above is a cordon of ocean
steamers and coast and river boats. Then the only ocean steamers
were the Cunarders—the one side-wheelers—whose red chimneys I still
recognized; now elegant steam propellers make their way to every
quarter of the globe, weaving commercial webs as the good Scotch
housewife weaves her web of “braw seventeen hunder linen.” A dozen
lines of steamers now ply across the vast “herring pond,” and each
day, especially Saturday, witnesses the departure of numbers of them
for their “march over the mountain wave” to their destination
abroad. The Battery, which had been neglected for many years, I
found greatly improved.
We were on time at Jersey City, and there took sleeping
cars for Richmond—or we didn’t exactly, for though a telegram to
Boston had said it was all right, we found it all wrong, as four
upper berths had been assigned to our party, the tenants on the
lower floor unknown. Upon demanding our rights, the “gentlemanly
Porter,” with the importance of his position, replied, “Yes, sar,
dar am foah upper berths at your service, sar,” and that was the
best he would do, notwithstanding all our remonstrances. We had
seats in the sleeping car until we reached Philadelphia, when we
found two of the sections reserved for Philadelphia not taken down.
We were right on hand and made up our minds that if we could not
have what we had first engaged we would break our journey and remain
in Philadelphia over night and start again
Pg. 25
next morning. No thanks were due from us to
the railroad officials, who didn’t seem to interest themselves in
our behalf. In this condition of things a pleasant bit of a joke
occurred at my expense. We spoke to the conductor and asked him
what he thought regarding the prospect of our obtaining sections at
Philadelphia. George was standing in the aisle, and I was
sitting with my cape on. The conductor said if we were on time at
Philadelphia the train would wait there fifteen minutes, but if
behind time we would get away as soon as possible, and he suggested
our going to the office when we arrived, and finding out whether the
sleeping-car tickets were taken. Then, turning to George, he
said; “You had better go, as you can go up and back so much quicker
than the old gentleman can.” We got our sections, “on to
Richmond,” an it was very comical to see and hear what was
transpiring all about us. First there was the porter, a dignitary
of more importance than the President of the road, the embodiment of
Pomp, which perhaps was his name, though he kept dark about
it. The consequence he gave to every act was amusing. The making
up of the beds was a fine art in which eh luxuriated. He had an
assistant who did the work, but the looking on was very laborious.
He was polite and attentive, but patronizing to everybody. I was
made more appreciative of his weight during the night, when he
tumbled over upon me, and I thought the roof of the car had fallen
in. Many of the passengers could not sleep, and they seemed
disposed to prevent the rest from doing so. Half-suppressed
conversations between the upper and lower berths, tittering and
spleeny soliloquies, restless turning and growling, looking after
baggage, calls upon
Pg. 26
the porter for water, children crying, one
voice asking “Wife, did you bring them pills?”—these and all the
usual attendants upon a night ride were there; and I lay quietly and
laughed. By 11 o’clock, one by one the sounds ceased, and a new
feature manifested itself—the nose. Then occurred a nasal concert
of unsurpassed quality that was heard even above the rushing of the
cars. Every variety of snoring asserted itself, from the loud snort
of the masculine snorer to the gentle cadence of feminine capacity
with a soporific tendency. But gradually the car settled itself to
sleep, the porter standing like a dark sentinel over his recumbent
charge. The train moved on very smoothly all night, although we
were a little behind time, and, the engine giving out, we were
delayed two hours until another locomotive came to our relief. I
called the ingin’ “Sitting Bull.”
We arrived at Richmond at 9 o’clock A.M., and hour late,
and drove immediately to the “Ballard & Exchange.” The drivers were
the most comical Jehus in ebony that I had ever seen and, thanks to
the dispensation of freedom, such as these are the only drivers
in the South now. After washing away the traces of the night ride
and taking breakfast, we took carriage to make the best of our time
while in the city. We had a very intelligent driver, with a broad
streak of comicality about him, who took us first to Libby Prison,
that noted place of suffering in which, we were told, seven hundred
of our Union soldiers were confined at one time during the War of
the Rebellion. It is a tobacco factory now, though some rooms in
other parts of the building are devoted to other purposes. In one
of these a guano factory was in operation, but we did
Pg. 27
not linger there very long. Our next visit was
to “Castle Thunder,” and well called, for it must have been
thundering rough for our boys to be imprisoned there. From here we
were taken out of the city to see the earthworks thrown up by the
Confederates for the defence of Richmond, which were very formidable
and not easy to master if held by determined spirits. Fortunately
the “cruel war is over,” and the mounds remain only as reminders of
sad scenes that “might have been.”
We were shown a house upon the site of which
Pochontas is alleged to have saved the life of Capt. John
Smith. There are probably other places that make the same
claim, but the house was a voucher that carried some conviction with
it, as did the house of Mary of Magdala as seen by Mark
Twain who knew she must have lived there because he saw the
house. We drove next to the Union Soldiers’ Cemetery, a most
interesting point for a Northerner to visit, where most of the large
number buried are unknown—a sad thought! The fortifications
contiguous have been leveled to a great extent and the land turned
to its original uses. Such are time’s changes. We took in
Washington’s headquarters en route, but the Father of his
Country had so many headquarters that they possess little interest.
We enjoyed more a view of Richmond from one of the high hills in the
vicinity, where a very fine panorama was presented. An interesting
relic was pointed out—the little St. John’s church where Patrick
Henry made his fiery speech against the bishops, as every
schoolboy will remember.
Returning to Richmond, the Memorial Church is an edifice
built upon the site of the Richmond Theatre which was burnt many
years ago with great sacrifice of life. I think
Pg. 28
the governor of the state was one of the
victims. Jeff Davis’s residence and that of General Lee
on Main street are pointed out to visitors. The Richmond Theatre is
located on Broad street, one of the principal thoroughfares. I saw
Sothern here in his character of the “Crushed Tragedian,” and
I could not help contrasting him with the crushed Davis;
Sothern was playing his part, but the other’s part was a
terrible verity.
The business of Richmond was almost ruined by the war,
but it has recovered to a great extent. It met with a severe trial,
in November, 1878, when a tremendous flood swelled the James so that
it overflowed its bounds and did great damage to Richmond and all
the country round about, but there is more energy there than in many
other Southern cities, and Richmond is picking up what it has lost.
There is considerable shipping at Richmond, and the bridge over the
James is a structure of which the city may well be proud. On our
way around the place, I called upon Messrs. Putny & Watts,
and Mr. Watts gave me a history of his fortunes when the war
broke out. He was born at the North and his sympathies were with
the Union. He bought up all the Northern funds he could find,
including a bill of exchange on England for one thousand pounds
sterling, which he held for negotiation, though suffering much from
the oppression of his neighbors. Francis Dane and F.
Jones were among his best friends through all his trouble. He
showed himself, amid all, a true man, and his business integrity was
unimpeached.
Among many other points of interest the road was pointed
out by which the Union army entered Richmond, the chagrin of the
people being manifested by dilapidated fences,
Pg. 29
not since restored. There was a Partingtonian
tendency that I gravely noticed in our driver’s conversation, and I
did not dare to smile when “paralyzed” road was spoken of, or
“calvary” for cavalry. Many of the streets are very steep, and up
on the summit of Libby Hill a park is being laid out that promises
well for the people as a breathing place, if they don’t lose their
breath in getting up to it. We went on the “Church Hill,” the top
of which commands a charming view.
There are fine public buildings, private residences, and
rare sculpture in Richmond, though sidewalks are limited. The
Medical Institute is of the Egyptian style of architecture, and very
imposing. On the principal streets are the residences of the
wealthy before the war, but now the occupancy has materially
changed. We went into the Capitol grounds and saw the superb
equestrian statue of Washington, so much admired, surrounded
by statue of Virginia statesmen: Patrick Henry, Lewis,
Mason, Marshall, Jefferson, Nelson.
That of Henry Clay, a Virginia by birth, is by itself.
Stonewall Jackson’s statue has also been placed in these
grounds. We visited the Capitol, and heard the “senator from
Middlesex,” Mr. Blain, speak upon the state tax bill. The
House was also in session and we saw the congregated wisdom of the
state at work. Such bodies are pretty much the same everywhere.
The state library contains many articles of great
interest. These comprise many revolutionary relics, and the late
war supplies a far larger number, Virginia battle flags and the
Confederate seal being conspicuous. Portraits of distinguished
statesmen from the North figure with those of elsewhere. Jeff
Davis and General Stuart were prominent
Pg. 30
and a bust of Stonewall Jackson graced
the collection. Among the ancient relics were letters from
Washington, when he was twelve years old, and a letter he wrote but
two weeks before his death. The Capitol itself is a very fine
building.
Queer sights and sounds beset one at every turn in
Richmond—queer to the stranger, who contrasts everything with what
he has left behind him. “Worm snacks at all hours” attracts the
epicure. The wagons are queer, with their canvas tops and
funny looking darkey drivers, the mules in keeping with the rest of
the turnout; but the canvas backs (ducks) one meets with here
belong to a different sort of “waggin’”—that of the maxillary
process—from which the darkey is omitted. There is a sense of
insecurity in the best of the public carriages, and one feels, when
riding, as if the bottom must speedily drop out, and if to walk one
is inclined, he is followed by two or three darkies desirous of
carrying something for him, if he has only a cane in sight.
The Ballard & Exchange, where we were staying, was a
very fair house, though not up to the Northern standard, and was
well patronized. Among the guests I observed a little man whom I
recalled as one I had seen in the Senate chamber. He was a smart
little man, but he was prone to indulge too much in stimulants. On
the Sunday morning of our stay, I was going down to the office when
I met him, and he was tending the same way, but, I judged, for a
different object. He was very polite, and, taking my arm, he said,
“We will walk down together.” I told him I was obliged to wait
there for some of my part—a “get off,” I confess. I saw he was a
little “under the weather,”
Pg. 31
and immediately I heard the darkey laugh. I
walked along the passage and asked the grinning Anthracite what he
was laughing at. “Why, sar,” said he, “dat gemman wanted you to
help him down stair. He axes me to sometimes, and when I says to
him ‘Whar’s yer servant?’ he says to me, ‘I discharge him, ‘cause it
won’t do to hab two drunken men at de same time to look arter each
oder.’ Yah, yah, yah.”
I ccalled on Mr. Warren Curtis, an old Andover
friend, who was an apprentice with Smith & Dove forty years ago. He
has lived in Richmond more than thirty years, and was burnt out
during the war, but has since rebuilt. It was a mutual pleasure to
meet after the long separation.
Attending an African church at Richmond was quite an
event, and our party fully appreciated it. There are dark preachers
who come North, sometimes, but they come as missionaries, and are
men of education, with no color of difference between themselves and
their pale-faced brethren except the cuticle. But here was a
genuine “African” preacher, though born in Virginia, with all the
peculiarities of his class, and he was at his best. The church is
the first colored society established in Richmond, and now numbers
some three thousand members. They have a very large place of
worship, and there is a good attendance, the congregation varying in
complexion from light cream color to coal black. They are very
attentive to strangers, as we experienced. The preacher, Rev.
Mr. Holmes, gave, as his text, “Meditate on these things;” and
he dwelt upon his subject with great impressiveness, at times
vehemently, moving his customary hearers as only that class of negro
can be moved.
Pg. 32
“Bredren and sisters,” said he,
“what am meditation? I’ll tell you what meditation am. When you
hev got knowledge of the spirit of God, then your soul feeds upon
it, and dis am medication. You must all come to de church, and get
good, and den you can go to heben and meditate dar. You can’t
meditate properly at home, ‘cept you hev been to de house ob de Lawd,
‘cause you ‘gage in secular work. Why, my brudders and sisters,
your pastor was mortified when he was coming to church dis yer
morning. I saw a bruddery carryin’ home a bunch of fish! Now he
ought to hevv been going to church, an’ his chil’ren to de Sunday
School; an’ his wife can’t come cos she’s got to clean dem fish for
his breakfast. My sisters and brudders, meditate on dese tings.
Many stay from de church becos dey’s lazy, and don’t want to come.
De Lawd won’t bless you if you stay at home. Now if you want de
Lawd’s blessing you must come to de church. You may fool some of de
people, but you can’t fool de Lawd. My bredren, meditate on dese
tings. Sometimes, my bredren, you meet some one you know upon de
street, and he don’t see you. Den you tink, mebbe, dat he means ter
cut yer. But, my bredren, he may be lookin’ higher dan de grubbing
tings ob dis world, and his mind away up among de clouds, ameditatin’,
yes, ameditatin’ on de blessed Lawd, an’ such like tings. But, my
bredren, if you see a man dodging round de street corner, cos he
don’t want ter see you, dat am anoder ting. My bredren, meditate on
dese tings.”
When, reading the Bible lesson, he came to the next,
“Bodily exercise pofiteth nothing,” he thus explained it: “Now
bredren, dat means dat jumping Christians ar ob no
Pg. 33
‘count. Dey jump deir religion all out ob dem
in dis world and hab nothing left for de next.” The singing was
good.
In the evening we went again to the same church, and
heard another preacher, in a very good sermon, but lacking the
native vim of that in the morning. At its close Mr. Holmes
took the floor:
“Belubbed Bredren and Sisters,” he said, “we want to hab
a registration ob all de members of dis yer church. Dere are
between two and free thousand, and de records am all lost. Now we
are goin’ to commence on Monday morning’ wid de names, an’ I want
you all to follow each other as fast as you can an’ get through dis
work ob de Lawd’s people, an’ when you put your name down on de
enrolment list, I want you all to bring twenty-five cents ‘cause yer
know dat we hab got a great work to do, an’ de church ain’t done
finished yet. So you must all come prepared to gib twenty-five
cents when yer put yer name down. Some ob de members say to your
beloved preacher, de odder day, dat it won’t do to ax dem for
twenty-five cents. If yer do, dey say, you cut loose some ob yer
best members. But, belubbed brudders an’ sisters, if twenty-five
cents is goin’ to keep de members from de blessed Lawd, den dem’s de
kind who don’t want Jesus, and de kind we want to go. We don’t want
nuffin’ to do wid ‘em.”
Next day (Monday) we left Richmond for Atlanta, Ga., and
had a Pullman sleeper all to ourselves. We had plenty of room to
“lie around loose” in all day, passing through Greensboro’ and
Charlotte. We stopped at the latter place for supper, but C.
said he guessed he wouldn’t eat anything hearty, and would be
satisfied with a Charlotte
Pg. 34
Russe. Upon this a feminine member of the
party, who felt like retiring, said: “I guess I’ll take a Charlotte
Roast,” which was not amiss, considering the high temperature of the
car. The car was a drawing room by day and a sleeper by night, and
as we had it all to ourselves, with one Porter to four of us, we got
along about as we pleased. It was startling, somewhere near
midnight at a momentary stopping place, to hear a voice obtrude upon
our stillness shouting, “Are there any drummers on tonight?” I
think that some drummer had gone over the road wheedling Southern
credulity, and some of his victims, of whom this energetic inquirer
was a committee of one, were lying in wait for his return. The
question was novel, certainly, under the circumstances.
We arrived at Atlanta, Ga., in the morning, but made a
short stay there, improving our opportunity, however, to visit the
Atlanta Colored College of which Rev. Dr. Bumstead is
principal assisted by Messrs. Ware and Fuller. The
college has two hundred students, of whom good report is made. The
inexhaustible black driver with his customary characteristics is
here a prime necessity, for Atlanta, though “large and respectable,”
like a rural caucus, is muddy.
We left, at 2.05 P.M., for Macon, Ga., riding by a peach
orchard of four hundred acres, but with little presenting itself
worthy of note. We could not but observe the apparent absence of
industry and thrift that leaves this glorious country in a condition
almost barbaric and the architecture in such marked contrast with
that of the North. Many scenes reminded us of the now defunct
“system;” patriarchal mansions embowered in trees and
Pg. 35
the shabby negro huts surrounding them forcibly
emphasized the disparity between the classes who now dwell here on
terms of political equality, the “nigger’s” vote now as good as his
old “massa’s.”
We made a brief stop at Macon, spending the night at the
Brown’s Hotel,--Brown the standard color here,--and left at
7.30 next morning for Brunswick. The quaint negro huts had at least
three at every outlook who showed remarkable interest in what was
going on as the cars moved by. A newsboy came in with papers. “Hab
a paper, sar,” he said to George. “No,” replied George,
“I can’t read.” “Can’t read!” yelled the darkey; “I bet yer ken. I
know by yer looks dat you’se all ken.” This was a compliment to
intelligent looks, the moral of which is that everybody should try
to look intelligent, if he isn’t. At Macon the waiters were
not particularly clean, for which one was taxed by a member of our
party. “No, sar,” said he, “zactly so, sar; but dis isn’t our year
to wash, sar.” He must have meant it, though the rascal laughed.
Between Macon and Brunswick every point was of especial
interest to me, revealing vast improvement since my visit here in
1853, when, as a young man, I performed such an important business
part. Then the country was literally wild and covered with scarcely
anything but timber. As we passed along, the hand of improvement
was distinguished everywhere, although a devastating war had
seriously retarded enterprise. The old feeling of depression that
then prevailed had lifted, and a bright aspect rested upon
everything, which I was glad to see, it was in such marked contrast
with the former state of things. Lumber
Pg. 36
and turpentine seemed to make the prevailing
business along the route, and there were excellent facilities for
transportation to the coast, where shipments were made to foreign
ports, with Brunswick the port of clearance. Nearing Brunswick, we
passed the junction where the Savannah & Jacksonville road crosses
at Jessup, and soon arrived upon the scene of my former experience
twenty-five years before. We took quarters with Mr. Moore,
the hotel where I previously stopped having been burned down during
the war through the recklessness of Confederate pickets who occupied
it.
After tea on the day of our arrival, George and I
went out to make calls and see the place. I had, while going from
the railroad station to our resting places, noted many changes in
the condition of things. Everything was strange to me except the
“lay of the land,” and I failed to see any familiar object. In
company with George I made further explorations. I
endeavored to locate the old wharf where the Agnes discharged
her cargo; half of it she “carried away” at the time, and the
remainder had since followed, as no trace of it was to be found; nor
was there a single thing left to show that a ship ever lay there.
How the clink of that iron came up in my memory! The place was
covered over with buildings connected with the railroad running to
Albany. The spot where I neatly piled up the iron and fenced it in
to preserve it against the ravenous appetite of the town pigs was
also occupied by a building belonging to the railroad. The old time
marks were entirely obliterated. I thought, when the wharf was
built, that perhaps shipping would be attracted to that spot and
extend along the shore near by, but I
Pg. 37
found that all the wharves and shipping were
carried below to a new spot altogether. There was, I found, a
marked contrast between the shipping of to-day and that of
twenty-five years before. Now ships, barks, brigs, schooners, and
smaller craft gave a decidedly marine aspect to the place, with new
structures erected for business accommodations, which argued a
healthy advance in commercial enterprise. Great improvements had
also been made in the town. Buildings of every kind had been
erected on the old streets and the new streets were becoming rapidly
occupied, to accommodate an increasing population, that, from a few
hundred when I was in Brunswick before, had grown upwards of three
thousand, to which every day was adding. Hardly enough growth,
however, to warrant the original hope that some day Brunswick would
rival Savannah. But who can tell what fate holds in reserve? Two
railroads and a fine harbor are excellent bases to build upon, and
active enterprise may overcome all minor difficulties. My opinion
regarding the real progress of Brunswick is, that if a new hotel
were built, worthy of the place, it would be an indication of
revived hope and confidence and give assurance of stability. Some
years ago Mr. Hezekiah Plummer of Lawrence, Mass., built a
large hotel here, which was burned down, as well as the one where I
stopped in 1853, and that neither of them has been replaced is not
creditable to the town.
The next morning after our walk I called upon some of
the people of the place whom I had known during my previous
sojourn. I found Mrs. Brooks still living with her only
remaining daughter (the eldest) in the same
Pg. 38
house where I had so often visited in former
days, Mr. Brooks and her other daughters having died in the
mean time. I next sought out Mr. Friedlander, my former
friend at the hotel. He was out when I called at his store, but I
was received cordially by his partner, Mr. Anderson, who,
after recognition, recalled the circumstances of my being there with
Captain Scott so many years previous. When Mr. F.
made his appearance I saw in him the same tall shrewd-looking
Dutchman that I had known twenty-five years before, upon whose frame
and countenance time had wrought little change. He could not at
first place me, but said I was a “shentleman” he had certainly seen
somewhere, but where he could not say. Thus puzzled, he seemed very
anxious to get at the explanation of my familiarity with him and my
general knowledge of the town. After collecting himself and
straining his memory, he recalled my identity and was very glad to
see me.
“Vell, Schmidty,” said he, “I vas glat to zee you. Vell,
vell, the Lord has peen kind mit you. Shtand up and led me hav von
goot look mit you. Vell, vell, you pe not much more as dall as you
used to vas, put you ish proader dis way,”—drawing his hand across
his breast; “Dwenty-fife year ish von long dime mit a man’s life.
How vas Captain Scodd? He is alife den? Vell, he vas a goot
man. Oh, yaw, I regollect mit me de goot ship Agnes, mit de
gargo of iron. You remember we poarded mit de hodel togedder. Vell,
dat hodel vas gone—purnt mit the groundt off py some sogers what
puilt a fire and forgod dem to put it out. You recollect Mr.
Vood, de landlord? Vell, he was kilt py von of his pest vriends.
Pg. 39
Charley Moore vos de man vot did de
teed. You remember him? He vos a leedle schapp vos goom to de
hodel breddy often, mit a slouch hat von site of his head. He vas
trunk ven he shot Mr. Vood. Vell, Schmidty, he haf
had a pit war since you vas hereapouts, and I shust had to shut mine
shop and skedaddle to de goundry ourt. Our soger poys got dired mit
nodding to do, so dey vired some shot into de gunpoads mit de
harbor, and de gunpoads shust redurned de gombliment, bretty quick,
too. While I vos sit in mine own house apout, dar vas one rotten
shot, as de negro said, game down indo mine kitchen and bust tings.
I thought, sure, de tyfel had gome. Vell, dem vas hard dimes and no
mistake. H’m! dwendy-fife year since you vas hereapouts! I vonter
vhere ve vill pe dwendy-fife year do gome. And tid you hear about
my presaging mine thigh in New York cidy? Yas, I vell mit de izy
bavements and I zued dat cidy for dirty dousant tollars, vich I peat
dem; put I don’t get no dirty dousant tollars. Only got dree
dousant tollars. Dat vos all I get. Vell, Schmidty, haf you
zeen any of de old beobles? Dere is some you know vot is lifing.
You remember old Scranton, de bostmasder? Vell, he vas
shtill alife.”
“And old Josh Berry,” said I, breaking in upon my
voluble old friend; “what of him?” Josh was the old black
Berry of the Agnes days, who gave us great amusement.
“Yas,” continued Mr. F., “Josh Berry vas
alife, doo. He vorks ofer mit von of the islands. I saw him apout
a vortnight ago, and he’s shust de zame old gomigal bowlegged cuss
he vas dwendy-fife year ago. But have you zeen Mr. Bourke?
Here, Shonny, run ofer to Mr.
Pg. 40
Bourke’s, and dell him to gome here
right away quick. Dhere is a shentleman in my zdore vould like to
zee him.”
Mr. Bourke soon entered the store and my German
friend, pointing to me, said;—
“Mr. Bourke, shust you but your eye on that
shentleman, and dell me if you efer zeen him before.”
“I think I have,” replied Mr. Bourke, eyeing me
closely.
“Vell, vere?” said Mr. F.
“I think his name is Smith,” responded Mr.
Bourke, “and that he was here with Captain Scott some
twenty-five years ago.”
“Vell, vell,” said my German friend, “you peats me all
ourt. I knew his vace, put I gouldn’t gall him py name.”
“Mr. Smith,” said Bourke, “I wish you
would leave as good a job for me this time as you did then. I
watched that iron as deputy collector fourteen months, at three
dollars per day, and at the end of that time it was all lightered
around to Savannah by schooners. I have the memorandum of the first
money you paid me for labor when discharging. It was twenty-one
dollars for seven days labor, and I saw it recently when looking
over some old papers.”
The interview with these gentlemen was very pleasant,
and I enjoyed it hugely.
“Schmidty,” said Mr. Friedlander, “I
regollect me a goot shoke you got off ven Mr. Mabray mate you
puild dat vence rount mit the iron after it vas landed. You said
you tidn’t zee the need of any prodection, unless it vas to keep the
hungry bigs of Prunsvick from eading it up, and if it had peen
big iron the bigs would haf eaten it long ago. Yaw, dat vas the
best shoke of the dimes.”
Pg. 41
During the interview with these
gentlemen many old scenes and associations were recalled that
brought back the past very vividly. Many had departed on the long
journey who had made my sojourn pleasant in the former time, and the
hour of our communion was replete with the deepest interest. I
regretted, exceedingly, that I could not make a longer stay in
Brunswick, but I was compelled to “move on,” as if a London
policeman were urging his command, and we took our departure.
February 21 we left for Fernandina, Fla., on the steamer
Florence, at 4 P.M. We passed through the Brunswick ship
channel, along the whole length of Jekyl Island, and saw St. Simon’s
Light. There were plenty of oysters lying along the sides of the
creeks and wild ducks feeding upon adjacent marshes, enough to
excite the longings of sportsmen or epicures. We caught occasional
glimpses of a peculiar breed of wild horses to add to our equine
information, but the boat would not tarry to admit of closer
examination. They were to be found only in these localities. To
the purser of the boat we were indebted for much entertaining
description of the scenes we passed through. It is a most agreeable
thing to meet, on a journey like ours through a strange country, a
gentleman so kindly communicative, and we duly appreciated his
attentions. We passed through St. Andrew’s sound and along by
Cumberland Island, seeing innumerable flocks of ducks and other
waterfowl as we went along. We took supper on board the boat, and,
with nothing happening of further interest, arrived at Fernandina, a
quaint old place upon the coast. We took quarters at the Egmont
House, a new and elegant structure, built the previous season
Pg. 42
and opened July 1, 1877. In front of the hotel
is a garden fenced with palmetto and orange trees, which, in
luxuriant foliage, were in strange contrast with the Northern trees
we had but just left. It takes some time to accustom a Northerner
to this change which, however, is very agreeable. Here we
celebrated Washington’s birthday with appropriate honors.
The Florida darkey embodies the general peculiarities of
his race, and has certain special characteristics of his own, which
together form a whole that must be seen to be appreciated. In their
churches, which we attended, they are much like their more Northerly
brethren, but their devotion, though unique and in some respects
ludicrous, is so evidently sincere that it commands respect even
while it amuses. They are a lazy, happy set. One of the brightest
of our party remarked that this indolence was the result of
reaction; they had worked so hard while slaves that they could do
nothing but rest now. One of them gave an amusing account of his
treatment of yellow fever in reply to an inquiry of one of our
ladies regarding that disease:
“Well,” said he, “missus, when I feel de misery come—der
pains, yer know, in de head and in de back—den I knowed somefin’ mus’
be done. Dere’s nuffin’ like lemons for yaller feber, but I
couldn’t get no lemons. So I takes der lemon leabs and steeps dem,
and den I rubs myself all ober wid der wash. Den I takes snake root
and makes er tea, and den I drinks dat and dat makes de appetite.
I didn’t have no doctor. I’s my own doctor. Doctors donno
how to treat yaller feber. Dey give de patient ice. But,
missus, ef you eber hab de yaller feber,
Pg. 43
don't you neber take ice ‘cause ef yer do you
freeze yer libber and yer die shu.”
We visited the school for colored boys and girls during
its session and were much gratified with the appearance of the
scholars’ proficiency. It is under the charge of Mr. and
Mrs. D.K. Ballard, and bears evidence of painstaking care on the
part of the teachers. We heard the classes in their several
exercises, and a brighter school it would be hard to find anywhere.
Their reading and spelling were especially good, and we were allowed
to hear them sing, which they did with real credit to themselves. I
brought away with me the autograph of Master Joseph R. Howard,
a boy of ten years, that astonished me by its excellence. It was
rapidly written, but the letters were connected and evenly formed,
and many an expert in penmanship would fail to produce anything much
better. I could scarcely have credited the possibility of the thing
had it not been done right before my eyes.
We enjoyed a pleasant ride along the beach, for two or
three miles and gathered shells for mementos. The beach is some
twenty miles long and the bland air and the sea render a ride over
it very delightful. Returning, we made a circuit of the old town,
which we found exceedingly picturesque. Ending a very pleasant day
with a supper at 6.30, we left by rail at 8 P.M for Jacksonville.
We arrived at Jacksonville at 1.30 A.M., the last part
of the road being very “hubbly.” A country editor thus speaks of
this road: “It has three receivers: one to receive for the
bondholders, Mr. Day (the superintendent) who receives all
the money, and the ditch which receives the
Pg. 44
trains.” Hard, but may have a share of truth
in it. We enlivened the way among ourselves by a quartette of
pleasantries, with no growls of discontent, thankful that we had
escaped the last-named receiver.
On arriving at Jacksonville we had our baggage checked
for the St. James Hotel, and inquired for the “close carriage”
which, by prearrangement, we had ordered for our personal
conveyance. At the station the vehicle was awaiting us, and we were
at once piloted to it. It was a “close carriage,” indeed!
All had to sit close, the air was close, and the
remarks made were close upon the style of objurgation which
the irreverent sometimes make; but fortunately the hotel was
close at hand, and upon reaching it, the ladies vowed, as ladies
do, that never would they put foot in a “close carriage” again. But
the sequel showed how liable people are to forget. When we stopped
at Palatka, subsequently, it was raining, and the hotel porter who
was on hand at the steamer took some of our traps, and said, “The
ladies can ride, it will cost them nothing.” So on they went, not
dreaming of what awaited them. On arriving at the carriage,
forgetting for the moment their former determination, in they got,
only to find themselves in a close carriage of the former
pattern! I saw what was impending and could hardly keep my
countenance until they were fairly in. It was too good an
opportunity to lose and I shouted, “Close carriage for ladies
to the St. James!”
The rain continued all night after our arrival at
Jacksonville, and in the morning we banished hope of being able to
do anything during the day; but along in the forenoon the weather
cleared up, and we went out for a walk.
Pg. 45
A beautiful garden extended along the front of
the hotel, as at Fernandina, which gave a very pleasant aspect to
the scene. It contained many fine orange trees laden with the most
delicious looking fruit. We went down upon the business streets and
visited several curiosity shops, where principal among the
temptations to buy were alligators’ teeth made into a large number
of forms, shoe-buckles, whistles, scarf pins, etc., some of which we
purchased. “Greenleaf’s Jewelry Store” is a famous place of resort
for visitors. Here we found quite a zoological garden in the rear,
bears, alligators, wildcats, and other “varmint,’ comprising the
collection. Some specimens of alligator teeth were shown us that
were very beautiful, and from the obliging proprietor we learned
much about Florida grasses and other ornamental products of the
country concerning which Northern ladies are greatly interested.
Next day being Sunday, we attended church and heard a
sermon by Rev. Solon Cobb from the North, whom we had met at
the hotel. In the evening we went to a colored church and heard a
black preacher discourse on the subject of the wise and foolish
virgins. He was very quaint in his illustrations and made no such
mistake as the white preacher who, in speaking upon the same
subject, said that there were ten virgins, five of whom were males
and five females. After the sermon, a notice was read stating that
money was wanted for church purposes, and the colored preacher
descanted upon it. The dialect must be imagined.
“Now brethren,” said he, “we want money—money to finish
our church—and I ask you to give us fifty dollars.
Pg. 46
You are all able to do, and it won’t hurt you a
bit. You have got plenty of money, so give us fifty dollars, and
we’ll fix up the gallery and put in seats and not have nay one stand
up any more. If you can’t give us just ‘zaxly’ fifty dollars, why,
give us twenty-five.”
The collection was taken up, and the result showed but
eight dollars, and the preacher, peeping over the pulpit
where the deacons were counting the money, said,—
“Now brethren, I am disappointed. I had a ‘putty’
spiritual song that I was going to sing if you had given fifty
dollars, but I can’t sing for only eight dollars.”
The amount collected was handed him, and he continued,—
“I’m glad you have given that, but it isn’t quite enough
for you to get the ‘putty’ spiritual song. I hope the Lord will
bless you for what you have given, but if you want to go to the New
Jerusalum, you ought to make it up to fifty dollars.”
After this, a few commenced to sing, accompanied by a
sort of dance the solemnity of which could only be seen by the
performers themselves. This church was called the St. James
Theatre.
Next day, at 1.30 P.M., we took the the steamer
Sappho for Tocei, where we embarked on the train for St.
Augustine, arriving February 25. This city is one of special
interest to the historian, it being the first permanent settlement
that was established on this continent, the foundations of which
were laid by the Spaniards in 1565. The French Huguenots had tried
to possess it, but Melendez, under direction of the Emperor
of Spain, drove them from the soil with terrible cruelty, and it
became the scene of
Pg. 47
violence and bloodshed which continued for many
years. Early on the morning after our arrival we went out to see
the old town and first visited the meat and fish market. At the
latter were mullet, drum, sea bass, and other varieties, not
abundant, but looking fresh and nice. I found the fishermen very
communicative regarding the manner of taking fish in Southern
waters, in some respects different from our modes at the North.
There is a sea-wall, and the main town is separated from the beach
by a road, so that the beach is inaccessible by land. The streets
are very narrow, and the sharp curves remind one of Marblehead or
some of our oldest towns whose streets, it is said, follow the
tracks the cows made when going for water. Curiosity shops
abounded, where the customary Southern varieties of traffic could be
had—alligators’ teeth (wrought into many forms), stuffed alligators
and birds, elegant shells, orange-tree canes, etc. These find a
ready purchase by Northerners. The buildings are low and of a
peculiar architecture, made of a material formed of seashells, and
called “coquina.” It is found on the shore and proves a very
excellent building material, but, unlike natural stone, it crumbles
with time though otherwise tolerably durable. A great many houses
of St. Augustine are built of it. Mr. Ball, of the firm of
Ball, Black & Company, New York, has a fine residence here. We
called at the house, which sits in the midst of fine grounds shaded
by luxuriant trees and is approached by a broad avenue from the main
street beneath an arch of orange trees. These trees had grown into
a thick hedge at least 20 to 25 feet in height and were loaded down
with fruit. This arched avenue leads to a circular inner
enclosure. On the opposite
Pg. 48
side of the circle is another arched
passageway, and paths diverge from the centre through the orange
grove beyond.
We continued our walk to the adjacent mansion of a
Mr. Anderson, where we were much interested in seeing the
process of preparing oranges for the market. Men and boys were
busily engaged in handling the fruit, which, as soon as gathered, is
put into a room on a sort of rack prepared for the purpose, where,
after it has lain for two or three days, it is sorted over, papered,
and graded. We went through the grove and picked from the trees the
most delicious oranges we had ever eaten. Oranges eaten upon the
spot seem to have a better flavor. This was a particularly pleasant
episode, and formed a red-letter item in our pilgrimage. We could
hardly realize that but three or four days’ travel separated us,
amid scenes of tropical luxuriance, from the ice and snow of wintry
New England. Truly this is a fast age!
The beach we did not visit, nor the lighthouse, as the
weather was somewhat disagreeable. It rained during the forenoon,
which limited somewhat our explorations, but we made a good record.
Returning, via the Square, we saw the monument, the old
cathedral, and St. Augustine Hotel; and going round among the
curiosity shops along by the sea, we made purchases to take home,
among which were two alligators, that were placed in boxes
and christened “Helen’s Babies” by the jocular vender. We accepted
the name, and they came along with us under that title.
In the afternoon we set out again, bent upon
sight-seeing. We passed through St. George street, so narrow that a
Northern load of hay would find it a “tight fit” in
Pg. 49
navigating it. We went to the old city gates,
the old coquina pillars and sentry-box still standing in good state
of preservation. In old times the city was undoubtedly walled all
around for protection against enemies, for then strong walls were a
necessity. We visited the old Fort Marion, a grand and well-planned
fortress, encircled by a moat, and we went through its various
winding and intricate recesses. There were about 100 Indians of two
or three different tribes from out West confined here at the time of
our visit. They were very docile, then, but when first sent there
they were very wild. Two or three of them caught a cow and, taking
her into a fort, butchered her and ate her flesh raw and drank her
blood. They employ themselves by making bows and arrows, and for
amusement draw quaint pictures of buffalo and antelope hunts, pitch
bean bags, and play other games. They have a room 200 by 40 feet,
and each one is allowed a space where his bunk stands. In the
daytime the bedclothes and mattresses are rolled up and fastened to
the head of the bunk, leaving the room thus gained for a seat.
These bunks are arranged on both sides of the room, and a large
stove for cold weather occupies the middle space. In this fort no
dungeons were supposed to exist, save one that was accessible to
all, but in 1846 a little settling was noticed where heavy cannon
had been moved, and investigation disclosed a large dungeon and a
human skeleton hidden away within it. It being perceived that the
stones composing the sides of the wall were different from the rest,
these stones were removed and another dungeon discovered with
passages leading to the end walls, in which were found two iron
cages containing human bones, supposed
Pg. 50
to be the remains of some distinguished
Spaniard who was left to die here for political offences. The
Spaniards were a cruel people when the old fort was built. In the
fort are casemates all around, one of which, we noticed, had been
used as a chapel, as the little marks on the wall where the candles
were placed still remain. We were shown the casemate where Osceola,
the chief of the Seminoles, was confined, but from which he made his
escape. The old ordnance sergeant in charge of the fort told the
story with great gusto.
Our stay at St. Augustine was necessarily brief, but the
time was well improved. We left February 27, per rail to
Tocei, over a road that has no equal on this continent for
eccentricity of make and management. It was originally a horse
railroad, and now that it had reached the dignity of steam, its cars
were of two or three different patterns, for passage in which a
charge of 14 cents per miles was levied. The road was owned by
William B. Astor, and he must have been relying upon its
receipts as his principal source of income. We reached Tocei
without accident or adventure, and embarked upon the Sappho
for a trip up the St. John’s river to Palatka. The St. John’s is a
pleasant, but dull and monotonous stream, seeming to be oppressed
with the inertia that characterizes Southern life, and not choosing
to hurry any. There are broad stretches here and there that widen
into the importance of small lakes, and along its low shores are
vast expanses of wild growths that seem to spring directly from the
water. There are sunny little coves that occasionally appear, and
settlements and solitary houses that show human habitations, and
these relieve the sameness; but the river is altogether
Pg. 51
unlike the blue streams of the North and seems
fitted to be the home of the alligator and malaria.
We arrived at Palatka on the 28th, at 7.30
P.M., under dampening circumstances described elsewhere, but a
“close carriage” took our party to the Putnam House, a new hotel
built a few years previously. Palatka is the principal town upon
the river, and growing rapidly. The rain prevented our going out,
and in the morning we left by the little steamer Pastime for
a trip up the river. We ran past numerous fishermen with their nets
set for shad and their little boat landings where they took care of
their fish scattered along at intervals of a miles or so. At one
landing, orange packing for market was going on, the colored brother
owning many trees along the river. There were some grand islands
that we passed; of these was Drayton island (Calhoun’s orange
plantation), with a hotel upon it, and Hibernia, a real gem of the
see. There were a few houses on this, one of which was
especially pleasant, with a beautiful green lawn that descended to
the water’s edge. Mrs. Stowe’s plantation (Mandarin) was
pointed out, but “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” did not appear in the scene.
We were on the lookout for alligators, and the scarcity
of these amphibia vexed us. One boy on board the Pastime
said he saw one about six feet long, and that boy at once achieved a
character. Not an alligator did we see between Palatka and Sanford,
and that boy who alleged that he saw one people began to regard as a
fabulous allegator himself.
We arrived at Sanford at 7.30 and went directly to the
Sanford House, which we found to be well kept by Mr. Winslow,
the manager, to whom we had letters of introduction
Pg. 52
Sanford was not much of a place in itself. It
had two piers, a few buildings and stores, and that was about all,
with the hotel. It is situated on one of the lakes formed by the
widening of the river, and if there is not much enterprise in the
town, the town of Enterprise on the other bank stands ready to urge
it on by wholesome emulation. They are both said to be good places
for invalids, and many sportsmen come there. We merely spent the
night at Sanford, and returned next day on the Pastime to
Palatka.
The day was most beautiful, and again alligators were
our quest. We closely watched the banks in hope of seeing some of
them basking in the sun. We crossed Lake Monroe, another widening
of the river, that we were told abounded with fish and plenty of
game, but not an alligator had we seen. We were told that bears and
deer frequented the woods upon the shore, and the day before we had
dined upon wild turkey on the boat, but was all this to us when our
minds craved sight of the festive alligator?
A great shout was heard: “Oh, there’s an alligator!”
and every one, in an instant, was on foot to take the alligator in
hand, or at least to get a glimpse of it, when, to everybody’s
disgust, it proved to be a log—“blind alligators,” they are called.
It was a satisfaction to cast it in the teeth of the St. John’s that
more alligators were to be seen in the Boston Museum than on the
biggest river in Florida. About 11.30 all were on the bow of the
steamer eager to get the first sight of an alligator. Several
pretended to have seen one, but no one else took stock in the
assertion, when presently there arose another cry: “There’s
Pg. 53
one!” “Where, where?” was the response. “why,
don’t’ you see him on that log?” All eyes were turned towards the
spot indicated, and there, sure enough, stretched upon a log, was
his alligatorship, as if asleep in the pleasant sunshine. In a
moment the crack of a rifle was heard, and the monster rolled off
the log, but not without felling the effect of the shot which struck
him on the tail, wounding that caudal adornment, but not affecting
him vitally. I was in the pilot house at noon, and the pilot told
me to look sharp along the shores at a certain point, and I should
probably see one. I thus acted, and, as he had said, there almost
instantly appeared a large one on the bank, seeming to be looking at
us very complacently, as if he were trying to comprehend what we
were. We had a good long look at him, when a rifle ball was
dispatched at him, but he was too quick for it and plunged into the
water with a great splash a second before the ball reached him. Our
way down from Orange Bluff was a panorama of Cypress trees hung with
moss and mistletoe, palmetto trees, stump snags, alligators (of
which we saw quite a number), and all the concomitants of Southern
scenery, never tedious, though monotonous, enlivened by pleasant
association and agreeable conversation on the Pastime,
regarding which one feminine of our party had said that one
“pastime” was in “looking for alligators.” Shot followed shot as
the hideous monsters appeared, but with what result was not known,
as they did not stay to report damages.
I made a number of striking drawings of scenes between
Sanford and Palatka, which, though not illustrative of the highest
development in art, give a graphic view of localities
Pg. 54
that will be great aids to memory in after
time. They are preserved in my notebooks. And apropos of
pictures, at the Putnam House in Palatka a lady sent one of the
waiters for the stereoscope and photographs, and he asked for the
“telescope and photograms.”
We arrived at Palatka at 6.30 P.M. and by a unanimous
vote decided that we had had a very pleasant time and voted the
weather delicious. We took quarters for the night at the Putnam
House, an excellent hotel, kept by Vermont people. After breakfast
next morning, I took a row on the river to try my hand at trolling
for fish in Southern waters, but the wind was so high and raised so
rough a swell that I had no luck. While I was on this piscatory
mission the rest of our party visited Hart’s orange grove,
and were there at the landing to meet me on my return.
At 3.30 P.M. we embarked on the steamer Hampton
for Green Cove Springs, nothing of importance transpiring during the
voyage. We arrived at 6 o’clock, designing to stay over Sunday
which was next day. We realized that greatest pleasures in life to
absentees, the receipt of letters from home, worth going away from
home to enjoy. How precious a familiar hand seems at such time!
It rained hard during the night, but the succeeding day
promised well, and I was up bright and early to enjoy it. Green
Cove is a popular resort for invalids, of whom quite a number were
at the hotel. I went down to take a look at the spring and taste
the water, which is discharged at the rate of 3000 gallons per
minute. The weather continued fine (the thermometer registering 75
degrees), and after dinner we all took a stroll down to the river
and along its
Pg. 55
banks. There is a beautiful path leading to
Magnolia, distant one and a half miles, and the surrounding scenery
is very fine. The trees are draped with moss and exceedingly
picturesque. In the evening we enjoyed some good singing in the
parlor.
Monday morning, March 4, we bade good-bye to Green Cove,
and took the steamer Sappho for Jacksonville. It was quite
cool, the mercury having fallen 12 degrees in about as many hours.
We arrived at 2.30 P.M., and immediately went to the St. James
hotel, where excellent rooms awaited us. After dinner we went out
in search of curiosities, Bay street being the main locality for
such trade, and Pelton’s store the most frequented. This store is
an antique of the rarest character, and the proprietor himself seems
like some fossil that has returned to life. We found preparations
for a church fair in progress, which showed that Northern customs
were obtaining a foothold at the South; showing, also, that fairs
and fashions may become important factors in promoting unity between
Northern and Southern ladies.
Next morning we took a row boat and went up the river
about three miles to the splendid residence of Mrs. Mitchell,
whose spacious garden and orange grove have a wide reputation. On
landing at the grounds, visitors are required to record their
names. Upon entering the garden, directly in front of the entrance,
and some hundred feet beyond, was the house, or cottage, with a
piazza all around it and balconies, pretty well up from the ground,
with lattice work underneath. The garden is laid out in walks, with
a fountain in the centre. The orange grove is upon the left and
right of the garden and
Pg. 56
in the rear. In the rear, also, is a long
covered walk designed for grapes. On the bank of the river and just
inside the enclosure are large trees hung with moss. This moss is
the favorite decorative design of nature at the South, and here it
was displayed to fine advantage. One large tree had seats in it and
costly arrangements for a party to occupy the elevated premises.
Pedestals, or altars, we observed, were distributed around the
grounds, with receivers for pitchpine to be fired on occasions in
the evening, and shed light on the scene. This plan of torch-light
is quite common up and down the river, and one such illumination we
had the pleasure of witnessing.
I spent a whole day in exploring Arlington creek,
starting at 9 o’clock with a darkey boy to row me. Arlington creek
is down the river about four miles on the opposite side from
Jacksonville. On entering the creek I began to troll, but with
little success at first. The water looked all right, and we started
out from the coves some fine large trout, but from some cause or
other they would not strike. Pursuing our course up, skilfully
playing my line and wondering whether I should encounter a hungry
trout or a black bass, I was suddenly awakened from my dreamy doubt
by the consciousness that something of an animated nature was
tugging away at the other end of my line. Whatever it was I handled
it carefully, and in a few moments a fine black bass, of some three
pounds’ weight, was floundering in the bottom of the boat. So much
to begin with. The sun was pretty hot and the water glassy—very
inopportune for successful fishing—and I cam to the conclusion that
our “catch” would be small under the circumstances. I have never
seen, however, a better spot
Pg. 57
for fishing, and had I been on the ground and
tolled from the bank, instead of on the water—it being then the
middle of the day—I am quite certain that I should have had rare
sport. The creek is bordered by wild land on each side, and the
water grass and lily pads are just the place for fish. After moving
up the creek a number of miles, we turned back, Robert, my
colored oarsman, calling at a negro hut for something to eat. Here
was a rare sight to see; a mother and six children sitting in the
dirt together. When nearly opposite the point where I caught the
bass, I hooked another and secured it. It was a much finer fish
than the first. We returned to Jacksonville at 4 P.M., against a
strong wind and tide, and found our party at the landing awaiting my
return.
It was drawing near the time when we were to bid
farewell to Jacksonville. After tea we settled our bills and in the
evening went down to the steamboat David Clark, and slept on
board. She was to start for Savannah at 3 o’clock in the morning,
and sailed on time, but when on her way about 30 miles she suddenly
stopped, and no coaxing of the captain or engineer could make her
budge one inch. We were just at the mouth of The Sisters, a creek
15 miles long, and so narrow that two boats could not pass at some
points. The tide was rising, which was in our favor. All were on
deck at once to see what was going on and inquire regarding the
mud’s adhesive qualities. By and by she started as if to free her
keel from the sticky encumbrance, the boat being so arranged that
she could back one wheel and push ahead with the other. She had not
gone far before she came to a stand again; but not for long,
however, and she came off headed for
Pg. 58
Fernandina, at which place we expected to
arrive by 12 M. It is exceedingly interesting, as well as novel, to
make one trip, at least, through these marshes; not that there is so
much to see, but it is interesting to see what a steamer can do when
handled in a skilful manner while passing among them. We were
fortunate in seeing a pelican, and several shots were fired at him,
but, although they fell around him like hail, not one seemed to
touch him. One gentleman remarked that the bird seemed to think
some one was feeding him with corn, he minded the shot so little. I
couldn’t see how he was le(a)d to this conclusion. It caused
a good deal of merriment to see him sail along so unconcernedly, as
if in defiance of the sharpshooters. Many porpoises were seen in
the lakes likewise, with game everywhere on water and on shore;
ducks, crane, blue heron, gulls, blackbirds, crows, in infinite
variety.
We arrived at Fernandina at 1 P.M., the weather very
hot. We were now out of Florida, and I was not very sorry. Florida
may possess a good climate for those troubled with lung
difficulties, but for those afflicted with rheumatism, I do not
think, from careful observation, that it presents any advantages.
The nights are damp, and there must, naturally, be a good deal of
miasma from the low, swampy condition of the land. Jacksonville is
flat and catches all the northern flats, and as the
weather is quite debilitating, it makes one feel flat, which
is not very flattering to the place or its visitors. I have
mentioned very little about the Florida negroes, but they maintain
the characteristic of their race. They are the same happy-go-lucky
set, rejoicing in their freedom, though in St.
Pg. 59
Augustine I found an old negro woman who
regretted that she couldn’t go into slavery again. Many of the
negroes are small farmers, and their farming management is
peculiar. For instance, I am told that in ploughing, when a negro
gets to the end of the last furrow, he leaves his plough in it until
the next season, hangs his harness on the nearest fence, and permits
his mule to lunch upon his straw collar, so he has to make a new one
when the time comes for using it again. How the poorer ones live it
is hard to tell. I asked a negro at Jacksonville what he lived on.
“Yanks (Yankees) in winter and catfish in summer,” was his quick
reply, and it may serve as well for other sections. But there is a
new ambition awakened among the better classes of the negroes, who
are intelligent and industrious, making good citizens in their new
freedom, and having their own bank accounts.
We left Fernandina for Savannah by the “Inland Route,”
which I have previously described, to touch at Brunswick, where we
arrived at 7 P.M. Thence we went to Savannah, where we docked at 12
o’clock, and immediately proceeded to the Pulaski House, my old
hotel of twenty-five years before. The same rule of good rooms and
a good table was still observed, but the house bore evidence of
passing time. My first object in Savannah was to look up some of my
old friends, but few of them were left to greet me. Claghorn
& Cunningham were still in business, and I had an interesting
interview with Mr. Claghorn, who was exceedingly glad to see
me after so many years. He was a major general in the War of the
Rebellion, but no allusion was made regarding national affairs. I
met, also, Mr. H.B. Luce, the former keeper
Pg. 60
of “our house.” These were all that were left
of my former friends. “Bonaventura,” the beautiful cemetery which
we visited, holds the remains of most of them in trust. This
celebrated cemetery, with its gothic-shaped arches formed by the
moss hanging down from the live-oak trees that line the driveways,
was owned formerly by the Wiltbergers, and was private
property when I first visited Savannah. Colonel Wiltberger,
formerly proprietor of the Pulaski House, has a splendid monument
there. The city gave evidence of great prosperity, having recovered
very rapidly from the effects of the war. Marked changes had taken
place since my former visit. It had extended up the river and at
all other points. The continuation of Bull street was a great
improvement, with the beautiful park at the end, in which there is a
fine fountain that gives grace to the vicinity. Just beyond there
is a new park, occupying several squares, with a Confederate
monument in the centre. There are some charming residences in
Savannah, and in all respects it is one of the finest cities in the
South.
As we were to remain in the city over Sunday, we were
told not to miss attending the Savannah market, a great point of
attraction on Saturday night. It is called “Negro’s Night,” because
on this evening all the colored population of Savannah congregate
there. We accordingly visited the market, and a novel scene
presented itself. There were thousands, representing every shade of
color and condition, who were purchasing or interviewing or idling,
and a more indescribably Babel of tongues could not exist anywhere
than was there exhibited. All were equally clamorous, from the
venerables of either sex to the youngest
Pg. 61
who appeared to feel that this night was indeed
theirs, as it had been from long custom, and they needed no
Fourteenth Amendment to strengthen their claim. A better-natured
crowd it would be impossible to imagine, with whom traffic and
social intercourse were equally blended, and their clear voices and
happy laughter rang on the evening air like unwritten music, with a
careless and happy abandon, the light flashing from the torches
illuminating the congregated faces and giving a weird appearance to
the scene. To those unaccustomed, the whole was very interesting
and amusing, and to stand quietly by and listen to conversations
carried on in the quaint negro dialect, or to note the processes of
trade with the customary altercations regarding prices, afforded a
very funny opportunity for studying the negro character. One
feature was striking, the negro politeness that distinguishes these
people in their intercourse with each other. This rarely fails, and
the “sar” and “ma’am” are seldom omitted in conversation. In trade,
however, “sharp is the word,” and many funny exchanges of tongue
were observed that denoted shrewdness and cunning. The market is a
fine large building and well arranged, but the outside, on “Negro
Night,” is most attractive. The stalls are bountifully supplied,
and everything can be had from a yoke of steers to a spring
chicken. Beef cost 16 cents per pound, shad 15 to 50 cents apiece,
the shad being the largest I ever saw. There were trout, mullet,
bass, sheepsheads, etc., in great quantities, but the hungry crowd
made them beautifully less. Our marketing done, we returned to the
hotel, where we spent Sunday, making new acquaintances and
confirming our good opinion of Savannah.
Pg. 62
We left on Monday morning for
Augusta, Ga., on our way North, by rail, inspired by the hope of
soon reaching home. “By rail,” at the South, however, does not
always imply speed or comfort, and we did not seem to advance with a
movement accordant with our anticipations. Having gone over so much
of the Southern territory, and each succeeding scene seeming but a
repetition of that which we had just left, the journey grew
wearisome. The same “shiftless” condition of things, so disgusting
to Miss Ophelia in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” prevailed everywhere,
with negroes and hogs preponderating, of which the latter seemed the
most energetic, provoking the remark from one of our party that hogs
appeared to lead in respect to industry, for they did, at least,
root for a living. One thing, however, was active and annoying.
The air was active with a perfume not that of “Arabia the Blest,”
and at every wayside station was evident, but more especially at a
junction where we took our dinner. It grew intolerable, and every
one wondered what could cause it. We remembered the former Libby
smell, and queried whether the state of Georgia were going into
guano manufacture in order to produce a higher cultivation. The
nuisance continued until we reached Augusta, when we discovered that
we were on a mixed train, with freight cars attached, two of which
were loaded with guano.
We immediately left August for Aiken, S.C., under better
auspices, but with little change in the aspect of things. Aiken is
regarded as being probably the best place at the South for invalids
troubled with bronchial difficulties. Many accord it this
pre-eminence, its elevate position and
Pg. 63
pure air conducing to health. There certainly
was a better air attending our approach than that which followed us
to Augusta, and there was, besides, an air of cleanliness and thrift
about the place that warranted our good opinion. The “standing
committee” was large that welcomed our arrival at Aiken. It was an
awfully hot day, and as we were alighting from the train the cry,
“Hab a close carriage, Missus?” almost drove the ladies
frantic, awakening the memory of Jakcsonville. We were beset by
negro hackmen, who seemed to come in battalions, surrounding us
persistently with a zeal worthy of New York. “Hab a bo’ding house,
Missus?” yelled one, when a darkey, rushing past, cried in a
stentorian voice, “Dem don’t want no bo-ding house. Dem’s gwine ter
Highland Park House, dem is. Dem don’t want no bo’ding house, dem
don’t.” So we went to the Highland Park House.
Our stay at Aiken was very limited, though the place
seemed to possess many interesting features, and, in the language of
the negro song,—
“We’re off to
Charleston, so airly in de mornin’,
We’re off to Charleston, afore de broke o’ day.”
Pg. 64
MY
THIRD TRIP TO BRUNSWICK AND THE SOUTH
APRIL 2, 1883. Having made
arrangements for a trip South, I embarked, with Capt. W.F.
Goldthwaite, upon the steamer Old Dominion, of the Old
Dominion line between New York and Norfolk, Va. At 3.30 P.M. we
started upon our voyage, steaming down New York harbor among its
crowds of shipping and amid infinite variety of scene on shore and
wave. The large Cunard steamer Scythia passed us as we
neared the Battery. Staten Island and the Narrows wore their usual
pleasant aspect, and at the Quarantine ground there were several
steamers waiting permission to enter. In the offing, steamers and
sailing vessels of all varieties of rig presented a lively
spectacle. One of the former (the Werra of the German Loyd
line), ploughed her way majestically through the water, a leviathan
among the smaller craft. There were fishing vessels bound in with
supplies of fish for the New York market, and tugs towing ships and
barks out to sea. Coney Island and Rockaway were on our left, and
Sandy Hook light appeared away to the right in the distance. We
passed the lightship soon after, and then skirted along the Jersey
shore, now well on our Southern track, reminded of similar
experiences on board the Bermuda in 1880. The harbor scenes
which present themselves to one sailing out of New York are ever
changing, but the grand groundwork remains unchanged, the same
yesterday, to-day, and forever.
Pg. 65
After supper we strolled upon deck,
but though the evening was fair, the air was too cool for the
enjoyment of a seat. I found diversion in becoming acquainted with
my fellow passengers, and later enjoyed quite a chat upon North
Carolina farming and the raising beef and mutton for market, in
which a man from North Carolina named Smith had the floor
most of the time. We turned out early next morning and after a very
good breakfast, passed the forenoon in social intercourse with the
passengers, which was enlivened by anecdotes and tales of personal
adventure. A Mrs. B.H. Cutter indulged in a lecture on the
evils of smoking to quite a number who were enjoying their pipes and
cigars. She singled out for special effort a young Virginian who
used the “weed” pretty freely, and that young man will not soon
forget the old lady’s lecture. One thing noticeable was the good
humor with which she treated the subject, though she was met with
all sorts of arguments and excuses. Success, I say, to the old
lady!
About noon we passed the lightship on Five Fathom Bank,
and an officer standing on the paddle box threw a package of
newspapers to the lightkeepers on board—a real blessing to those so
isolated. Soon after we passed Hog Island Light, with seventy-five
vessels in sight nearly all coming out of Chesapeake Bay. After
dinner we were opposite Smith’s Island, fifty-five miles from
Norfolk, and at 3.30 we were off Cape Henry with clouds of sail in
sight. At 5 P.M. we passed the Rip-Raps, with Old Pint Comfort,
Fortress Monroe, and the big Hygeia Hotel in full view to the right
of us, Newport News a few miles up the bay, and the little island of
Hampton—all historical places, their names suggesting some of the
most
Pg. 66
active scenes of the late war. On these waters
the little “cheese-box on a raft” (the Monitor) furnished
breakfast for the huge iron-clad Merrimac that required the
whole Confederacy to digest. The cheese in that box was mitey
beyond all precedent. We arrived at Portsmouth, Va., at 6.30 P.M.,
and crossed the ferry bridge in the rickety creakity old ‘bus that
runs to the hotels in Norfolk. The “Southern element” here began to
show itself among the darkies, with strange phizzes and tattered
garments, filling the air with their merry laughter. We found
quarters at the Hotel Virginia.
It had been a cold winter, followed by a backward
spring, but at Norfolk the climate was mild compared with that of
New York. The evening of my arrival I took a walk about town with
my friend Goldthwaite and stopped at a barber’s shop to get
shaved. The colored barber gave my boots which were cloth-covered
an awful stare, and, before adjusting his towel or making any other
preparation, said, in a most astonished manner, as I placed my boots
upon the foot-rack,—
“Well, Boss, yer don’t kotch cold in dem shoes. Whar on
earth did yer come from, that you hab to wear such shoes as dose?”
I told him I had just come out a snow bank, and it
seemed almost as if the barber shivered while he shook with
laughter. While I was occupying the chair a gentleman entered, a
little above medium stature, and sat down near the door. He
immediately entered into conversation with the “Boss Barber,” and I
learned from the confab which ensued that he was a newspaper
reporter. During a pause the barber broke out:
Pg. 67
“Why, golly,” said he, “I’s neber
so pleased in my life as I was when I heer’d about dat scrape you
got into las’ night. Dat was de best ting out. I’b laughed about
it all day long. Why, golly, what did you let ‘em fool ye for?”
My curiosity was much excited by what I heard, and I
listened closely to get an explanation of the remark made by my
tonsorial friend. The man wore an astonished look under his
broad-brimmed slouch hat, and it seemed that he was debating in his
mind whether to get angry or laugh at the remark. I learned that a
“job” had been put upon the “gentleman of the press” by some
mischievous chaps who had gone to his house and roused him up at 2
o’clock in the morning by a bogus story of a bank robbery. One of
the banks, they said, had been robbed and the robbers had been
caught and lodged in jail. He got up and, with his informants,
rushed to the jail where two men who had been arrested for some
common offences were pointed out to him as the bank robbers. He
immediately telegraphed to the “New York Herald” a full account of
the robbery with an elaborate description of the robbers, even to
the diamond studs they wore in their shirt fronts and other minutiae
that suggested themselves to a newspaper man’s fertile fancy. The
reporter was irritated that he had been hoaxed, and the barber’s
bantering “touched the raw,” but he restrained himself.
“I s’pose,” said the shaver, “dat you’ll telegraph to de
‘Herald,’ and contradic’ dat ‘ere story.”
“Not by a——sight,” said he. “No, sir; catch me
saying anything about it. It is enough for me to say what I did;
let somebody else contradict it. Go to change everything
Pg. 68
that don’t turn out just so, and you would have
your hands full. No, sir—no contradiction in mine.”
We remained in Norfolk only over night, and early next
morning, April 4, prepared to take the first boat for Old
Point Comfort. Bidding adieu to “mine host,” we took the ‘bus and
after some severe tossing and tumbling , as if there were a heavy
sea running, we reached the wharf where the steamer lay. Our
baggage on board, the whistle blew, and soon we left the old city of
Norfolk behind us with all its outs and inns,
particularly glad that we were out of the Virginia inn.
We retraced our course down the Elizabeth river, crossing the mouth
of the James, and here we had a magnificent view of the surrounding
country. We took breakfast on board, and had what a Yankee would
call a “good feed.” The whistle sounded again, announcing our
arrival somewhere, and we came slowly up to the wharf at Newport
News, where some of the passengers landed who came on with us from
New York. This place had undergone a great change since the war. A
company of capitalists were constructing large wharves and
storehouses suitable for the terminus of the Chesapeake & Ohio
Railroad. It was proposed to take the great grain product of
several of the Western states to Europe by this route.
We made but a short stop at Newport News and then sped
on our way for Old Point Comfort which we reached in about
thirty-five minutes. Fortress Monroe has had its attractions in the
past and in war times was a point of deep interest towards which the
eyes of the nation were turned, but at the present time it yields
the palm to the famous Hygeia Hotel, only 100 yards from the
Fortress, at
Pg. 69
the confluence of Chesapeake Bay and Hampton
Roads. This hotel is capable of accommodating 1000 guests; I did
not care to stop there, however, and sought conveyance to the Little
Point Comfort Hotel. We passed up the road to the carriage stand
where conveyance may be had to and from the boats and accommodation
between whiles for visitors. We encountered there the confusion of
tongues of Babel and, after a struggle about equal with that of
Saint Paul at Ephesus, we obtained a carriage for Hampton about
three miles distant. As we approached the stand, as many as thirty
black drivers rushed at us pell-mell like so many flies after a drop
of molasses, and such a siege as we had to stand! Of the thirty,
twenty-nine had to be disappointed, and competition ran high. We
passed through the black cloud—that had no silver lining but the
silver shekels we were to pay for conveyance—to make our selection
of the carriages, and when we had done so then began the fun and
sarcasm of those left out in the cold. All were united in the
opinion that we had made a very bad choice, and what a chattering of
unfavorable comment arose—“enough to deave a miller.” “Dem wheels
wants greasing,” cried one; “Dat ere top’s shaky,” said another;
“Der hoss’ll never get dar, shu, he’s so lazy,” put in a third, and
the whole twenty-nine were equally encouraging and complimentary.
It was a comical scene, and the greatest good-nature prevailed among
the contestants. We agreed upon terms with our chosen driver, but
when he saw our heavy baggage consisting of two large bags, eh
demurred.
“Well, Boss,” said he, looking at the “traps” with a
serio-comic expression that only a Southern darkey can
Pg. 70
put on, “I’ll do as I said, but I tink yer
oughter gib me sebenty-fibe cents ef I take dem big verleses ‘long.
Yes, Massa, it am wuff twenty-fibe cents extra, shu, to take dem.”
“Go ahead, my boy,” said I, “and if you do the job well
you shall have the extra quarter.”
He grinned his thanks, performed his part of the
contract satisfactorily, and received his “extry,” leaving us safely
at the Little Point Comfort Hotel, where we found excellent
accommodation. The hotel had been erected the year previous and was
kept by Mr. B. Barnard, formerly a New York landlord. It was
furnished in a first-class manner, and its appointments throughout
were well-suited to the wants of those desiring a quiet and
healtghful resting place. Mr. Barnard we found to be a good
specimen of the “fine old English gentleman” and one well calculated
to give perfect satisfaction to all who might place themselves under
his care. Mrs. Barnard, the landlady, was well fitted for
her station and won, by her courteous and motherly attention, the
profound respect of her guests. The tables were spread bountifully
with all the good things attainable, and we can say that we found
everything desirable in this regard. The servants were civil and
polite and added greatly to the credit of the well-ordered house.
“You remember, I suppose, all about the war?” I
remarked to one of the waiters as my friend and myself sat at the
table, the other guests having lef.
“Oh, yes,” she replied, “I ‘member all ‘bout de war.
I’s older dan folks tinks I is. I’m married, and got two boys
a’most growed up. Oh, yes, I ‘member bout de war. My missus she
died from grief cos she lose her niggers.
Pg. 71
But dar’s one women in dis yere place dat won’t
die, cos she’s mad all de time. I see her putty of’en, and I ax her
what she wear dat tick wail ober her face fur. She says she don’t
like ter see de niggers cos dey dress so nice.”
“did you see General Butler?”
“Oh, yes, I see de general lots of times. Dere am a
school here call’ de Butler School, an’ you ought to go dar an’ hear
the chil’n sing. Oh, yes, I see de general. He had his
headquarters ober to Newport News. You look jes like him, Massa.
He short an’ fat, jes like you is.”
To such as seek rest and the recuperation of their vital
forces, I would recommend a sojourn at the Hotel Comfort, Hampton,
Va. After dinner, on this first day of our arrival, we took a ‘bus
for the great Hygeia Hotel and from there to Fortress Monroe for a
call upon Gen. Eben Sutton of North Andover. We returned in
time for supper and in th evening attended religious services
conducted by Rev. Mr. Mitchell who was holding a very
profitable series of revival meetings.
April 5. The weather had changed very much, and
the warm June-like zephyrs came into our sleeping room in the
morning with grateful effect. After breakfast we concluded to visit
the Normal School, Hampton, of which Gen. S.C. Armstrong is
principal, and J.H.B. Marshall, treasurer. This institution
was incorporated in 1870 by special act of the General Assembly of
Virginia and is devoted to the education of the negro and Indian
youth in agriculture and the mechanic arts and the training of
teachers in these branches. We called at General
Armstrong’s house, but ascertained that he was in Boston on
Pg. 72
business. We went to the office and registered
our names, and a gentleman of the establishment conducted us in
company with several other visitors through the several
departments. We visited a number of rooms where negro and Indian
classes were reciting and we witnessed most interesting scenes in
which were demonstrated the patience and judgment of the teachers
and the proficiency of the pupils. The deportment manifest in the
several classes was excellent. Some of the classes were composed
entirely of girls, others of boys and girls (Indian and negro)
mixed. We visited the printing office of the “Southern Workman,” a
very well-conducted and nicely printed paper published in the
interest of the institution. Leaving the printing office, we
visited the sewing room, shoe shop, harness shop, tin shop, and the
saw and planing mill, where we found every one busily employed, the
operatives being either graduates or students of the school. At 12
o’clock the dinner bell rang, and we were invited to inspect the
tables and see the students as they came in to their meal, headed by
their band. This was a novel and pleasant spectacle. The
attendance of the school was then 490, of whom 92 were Indians (70
boys and 22 girls) averaging 18 years, and 228 negro boys and 170
negro girls; all but 32 of the students boarded at the institute.
The negroes were chiefly from Virginia and North Carolina; the
Indians represented some of the most ferocious tribes of the West,
but they are tractable under good treatment, and many graduate with
high distinction. Mr. Dudley Talbot was our conductor and he
paid us marked civility. I was pleased to meet here Mr. Munroe
of the New York who that very day contributed $11,000 as an
endowment.
Pg. 73
While at Hampton, the amusing side
of the negro character presented itself to me. I was waiting for
the return of my friend who had gone back for an umbrella, when a
good-looking negro with careworn features touched his hat to me,
and, as we were going the same way, I walked a short distance with
him. He told me about the war that had secured him his freedom and
what he had been doing since. A late afflictive circumstance was
that he had lost his mule; he was hopeful, however, that he would be
helped out. I gave him a small amount to assist him and, before we
parted, I said,—
“Having a good many meetings here this spring, are you
not?”
“Yes, massa, most all de churches habin’ meetings, ebery
night, white and colored.”
“Yes,” I said, “I have been in to some of them,” and I
remarked that the colored people were pretty demonstrative and that
I was not used to that.
“Well, Massa,” said he, “dey can’t help it. You see
when de debil am into a man he is pretty shu to show de debil dar;
but when de debil am out an’ de Lord in, dey can’t help a-shouting,
Massa.”
We returned to Hotel Comfort and after dinner took a
walk around the town. It was a pleasant old place, of the Virginia
school, with the element conspicuous. Seeing a long line
stretched across a vacant lot and a negro at work with it in a very
mysterious manner, I stopped and asked what he was doing.
“Dat am a crab trawl,” he answered readily. “It am most
time to catch crabs, and so yer see I wants to be on hand early so’s
to get my share.”
Pg. 74
I asked him to explain the net and
the operation of catching the crabs. This was a new field of
fishing, and we felt the deepest interest regarding it.
“D’ye see dis long line/” said he. “Well, dat am to lay
on de bottom ob de ribber, and dese ‘ere little short lines, dey am
tied on, ye see, about tree feet apart wid a loop on de ends dat am
to slip-noose on a piece ob tripe, cos, yer see, Boss, dat tripe am
de toughest ting we ken find ‘bout heah. It holds on ‘an de crabs
can’t get it off. Well, yer see, when we haul up de long line der
crabs dey hang on to de tripe,—dey won’t let go, sar—an’ when dey am
a’most up to de boat we put a leetle han’ net under ‘em, an’ den we
hab ‘em, shu. Oh yes, we get lots ob dem heah upon de ribber.”
He told his story without stopping in his work, and as
we thanked him for his information, he seemed pleased that he had
been able to contribute to our satisfaction.
At Hampton a good story was current that will bear
recording. Mr. Phoebus, proprietor of the mammoth Hygeia
Hotel, had received the nomination of the Republicans for
representatives to Congress. The colored voters of the district
outnumbered the whites two to one, and the sable freemen thought
this a good occasion on which to test Mr. Phoebus’s love for
the colored race. Putting their heads together, some ten or twelve
of them concluded that they would call on mine host of the Hygeia
and spend the night with him. They accordingly arrayed themselves
in all the finery they possessed and what they could borrow in the
way of white shirts, red neckties, and brass rings, and waited upon
the candidate. Mr. Phoebus greeted them cordially, when one
of them said,—
Pg. 75
“Well, sar, spects we’s come to
stopp with you to-night, sar.”
Mr. P. was rather taken aback but instantly
recovered himself, for he knew that it would not do to mix colors at
the most popular hotel on the coast, and replied that he could not
accommodate them as his house was full.
“House all full, den, sar?” said the ebony spokesman.
“Yes, all full,” replied Phoebus.
“Well, sar, den I spects, sar, you’d better sen’ in your
resignation ob dat nomination. Guess you won’t get down to de House
dis winter, sar. Dat house, I guess, is full, too. Don’t tink
you’se gwine ter walk up Pennsylvania abenue dis yar time, sar.
Guess not much, sar. Good day, sar.”
Mr. Phoebus concluded not to run.
April 7. We were called at 5.15 this morning,
and after breakfast, at 5.45, we started for Newport News, by
carriage, at 6 o’clock. The morning air was bracing and the
anticipated ride of seven miles did not seem much of a task. The
roads were rather heavy and the land low. In fact, this is the
character of all the ground around here, with no hills to relieve
the monotony. All along the roads were little negro huts and,
occasionally, what might have been a planter’s mansion. We arrived
at Newport News at 7 o’clock to connect with the steamer Nellie
White which did not, however, get along until 8.10, when we
stepped on board for Richmond, Va. Major General Butler had
his headquarters at Newport News, and the commissary store that he
built was still standing. The James river upon which the town is
situated is seven miles wide at its mouth and is an important
channel for
Pg. 76
trade, being navigable to Richmond; it is
affected by tide one hundred and fifty miles inland. Some of the
most fearful scenes of the war were enacted upon the banks of the
James, and the spirit that then prevailed has not quite died out
from many a Southern heart; not always manifest upon the surface,
but, like our flag, it is “still there.” The war brought into
notice many places before scarcely recognized and denominated by
gazetteers simply as “post-office’ towns; Newport News is of the
number.
We landed at Ferguson’s to leave the mail and
then proceeded on up the river, passing bug-lights and buoys, until
we reached a second landing. These landings all have a line of
railway, as the wharves are very long, and there is always a boy and
a mule at the outer end when a steamer arrives. At “Groves’
Landing,” we found the highest ground that we had seen at the South,
and it seemed natural and home-like to be elevated a little above
dead level. This place is named from its fine picnic grounds
abounding with grand trees of old growth. The banks at this point
are very much washed, imparting to the water the color of pea soup.
We next touched at “island Landing” (the channel below Richmond is
full of islands), then at another landing with a tremendously long
wharf, and at 12 o’clock reached Sandy Point, Claremont, the station
of the Claremont & Danville Railroad. We rested here but briefly
and then steamed on to other “landings” (Brandon’s Landing next),
and then Sturgeon Point, just half way between Richmond and Norfolk,
sixty-five miles each way. We passed one of the old Virginia
plantations that retained its former characteristics—a two-story
square house, with houses for the “help” (no
Pg. 77
longer “chattels”), scattered all over the
grounds. Here the shad fishers were numerous, and their nets were
displayed here, there and everywhere between the ship channel and
the shore. At 2.45 P.M. we reached City Point, where five of our
monitors were anchored and covered with thick canvas roofs. At 4.30
we passed through “Dutch Gap,” the monumental failure of General
Butler during the war, but now employed successfully for the
passage of vessels of light draught. Within a few miles of
Richmond, jetties are built on each side, varying from 100 to 200
feet, to deepen and keep the channel clear.
We arrived at Richmond at 6 P.M., and took carriage for
Ford’s, the driver fanning himself and singing all the way.
We were, probably, the only fares he had obtained for several days.
The usual comical scenes occurred at the hotel, with the bustle of
waiters and the officious services of the hackmen. “Stan’ roun’ dar,”
said our Jehu; “I’ll show yer how to handle dem baggage.” The
baggage matter adjusted, we found good rooms on the first floor,
and, it being Saturday night, we went to the market, always prolific
of amusement at that time when our colored brethren are particularly
demonstrative. The fishmongers were especially interesting with
their quaint modes of sale, among which the cry, “’Ere’s fresh shad
right from de foundry,” was conspicuous. The queer dresses, comical
phizzes, and funny incidents attendant on the trade cannot be
effectively described. The scene was a lively one, and an hour’s
time passed pleasantly in contemplation of human nature “in the
rough.”
April 8 (Sunday). “Bro. Jasper’s Church”
is an object of deep interest to visitors, and at 10 o’clock we
started
Pg. 78
to find it. We reached it after walking some
eight or ten blocks and then found that the service would not
commence till 11.30. In the mean time we took an extensive walk
through the “Africa of Richmond” attended by a sable brother as a
guide, who told us many things connected with the war, and what a
glorious day it was when the colored people knew that they were
free. “Nebber seen sich a day fore nor since,” said he, “an’ nebber
‘spect to see another ag’in like dat.” We returned to the church in
good time, and were seated in one of the front pews. Brother
Jasper soon made his appearance, hat and cane in hand, and,
taking his seat in the pulpit, commenced turning over the leaves of
the Bible. There was singing first, prayer by another reverend
Black, and then Brother Jasper came forward. He gave out
his notices, dwelt a little upon an “awdination” which was to take
place in the evening—giving the young preacher who was to be
ordained a fine character—and then commenced his discourse from Luke
vi, 22: “Blessed are ye when men shall hate you, and when they
shall separate you from their company, and shall reproach you, and
cast out your name as evil for the Son of Man’s sake.”
“Dere am a plot,” he said, ‘to oberthrow dis yere church
an’ your pastor, but I told you, bredren and sisters, dat dat ar’
doctrine am outside de lids of dis yere book. I stan’ heah in dis
yere pulpit to preach de gospel, an’ de doctrine I shall teach am
contained between de lids of dis yere Bible. De tex’ say ‘an’ dey
shall separate you from deir company.’ Yer’e all heah to-day singin’
psalm tunes, yer don’t sit all togedder but yer’e round heah in
bunches; but what are yer doin’ week days? Yer get togedder in
Pg. 79
de work-shops an’ on de kears concoctin’ plans
ter oberthrow your pastor. You’re de Korah, Dathan, and Abirams,
an’ I suppose you want to know who Korah, Dathan, an’ Abiram am. Go
home de whole ob yer, an’ take yer Bibles an’read de 16th
chapter ob Numbers, an’ ye’ll find out who Korah, Dathan, an’ Abiram
am. Dey were false prophets, an’ sat against Moses and Aaron, an’
dey were destroyed; an’ so will you be destroyed who plot against
dis church. De Korah, Dathan, an Abiram ob dis congregation are
jus’ like a lot of dewdle-bugs. I s’pose I shall hab to tell you
what a dewdle-bug am. Yer go out inter de pastur’ where an oak tree
hab been growin’ for fifty or a hundred years, an’ is cut down, the
stump rotten an’ de groun’ mellow all rounds de roots; dar’s where
de dewdle-bugs make deir holes, dere’s where de dewdle-bugs lib,
an’de little boys an’ girls, when dey are playin’aroun’, put deir
mouths down to de holes an’ say ‘Dewdle bug, dewdle-bug, yer house
is on fire!’ An’ what do de dewdle bugs do? Dey don’t stop to see
about deir chil’n nor de house neider, but dey come out an’ back
right away. Dey nebber go for’ard, and dey am just like de Korah,
Dathan, and Abirams. Dey go backward, backward, backward, an’
nebber go forward.”
I have given but a small portion of Brother Jasper’s
sermon, but, suffice it to say, he was listened to with marked
attention throughout. The sermon was lengthy, and, as the large
audience left, we lingered behind to shake hands with the preacher
who manifested much pleasure at the interest we took in him and the
Godspeed we bespoke for his mission. After leaving him we returned
to the hotel where we spent the day quietly until evening, when we
Pg. 80
attended Brother Holmes’s church. It
was the occasion of a missionary address by a white Professor of
Richmond, and I think I have never seen so many colored people
assembled in one room before. The services were exceedingly
interesting.
April 9. After breakfast we improved the time
remaining of our short sojourn in Richmond by taking a carriage for
notable places that I had before visited. We left Richmond for
Brunswick, Ga., at 3.17 P.M., passing over the long railroad bridge
by the splendid falls of the upper James, took tea at Welden, and
there embarked on the sleeper for the night. We arrived at a point
outside of Charleston, S.C., at 6.30 A.M., and proceeded on our way,
with little of interest transpiring, for Savannah, Ga. Breakfast on
the car was a new experience to me. Mr. and Mrs. Benson
and a Mr. Peich of New York city we found very agreeable
company, and we enjoyed much pleasant conversation with them. The
patronage of the railroads seems to indicate increasing popularity;
the travel to and from Florida, which we encountered along the line,
bore evidence of this, though at this season of the year most of the
travel was Northward. We arrived at Jessup’s Junction at 2.25 P.M.,
one hour late, and took dinner. We were compelled to wait here
until 6 P.M. to connect with a train from “elsewhere,” and in the
mean time were afforded amusement by passages of sentiment between a
Pennsylvania soldier and a Confederate soldier from Brunswick, Ga.
The tongue sparring was lively and exciting, but I am happy to say
that good-nature prevailed on both sides. Leaving Jessup’s
Junction, we arrived at Brunswick at 8.15 and went immediately to
the Nelson House.
Pg. 81
April 11. Arose early, and,
stimulated by a good breakfast, I was ready to look around Brunswick
and note the changes that had occurred since my visit of five years
previous. These changes in the varied scenes of life add to the sum
of human knowledge and remind us of the fleeting nature of
everything earthly, impressing upon our minds the reflection that
here we have no abiding place. As I looked out from the balcony of
the hotel, my mind naturally turned to the incidents attending my
visit to Brunswick thirty years before, and the scenes of that busy
time passed before me like a diorama, with the ship Agnes and
Capt. J. Edwards Scott the main features. The visit of five
years before was also recalled, the scenes of that day placed in
contrast with those which now appeared before me. I found that the
shipping had greatly increased within the last five years, and
buildings for business purposes were going up on every hand.
Dwellings were also being erected, and a healthy indication
prevailed that the old hope for the place might some time be
realized. The Savannah and Florida boats still ran to Brunswick and
other points; the railroad business was on the increase, and
everything wore a lively aspect. The Nelson House had been built
four years—a pleasant and commodious structure. The northerly air
was like June, balmy and refreshing.
I called upon Mr. William Anderson, my old friend
Friedlander’s partner, and had a pleasant time in recalling
old Brunswick as I first saw it. From there I went to see Mrs.
John Brooks, then eighty years old, widow of my old-time
friend. She had a wonderful memory of the town when it was really
in its infancy, and we recalled
Pg. 82
many incidents of the times so interesting to
both of us. She came from Wiscasset, Me., to Brunswick in 1853.
Captain Scott was a native of the same place.
I strolled around town with my friend, and during our
walk I pointed out to him the ground of my early experiences, where
the iron was landed, where the old hotel stood, etc., but the land
was now converted into sites for railroad shops, and all was but as
a dream of the past. Even statistics of the past were hard to
obtain, but we did find files of the “Brunswick Advocate” as far
back as 1837, from which we learned that John Davis was
proprietor of the Oglethorpe House on January 8 of that year,
James Moore in 1838, and that the house was built in 1836. This
stunning intelligence was relived from any serious effects by a
paragraph stating that “the Great Western steamship had arrived at
New York from Bristol, England, April 15, having sailed from Bristol
March 23, 1837.”
We had dinner at 1 P.M. and at 2.30 took the steamer for
St. Simon’s Island, with a view to remaining for a few days if
things were pleasant there. The wind was southeast and cooled the
atmosphere to a grateful temperature. It was a good time for
reflection and repose, the cares of business left behind and the
mind free from the many perplexities and irritation that make life a
burden. The body at such time, recuperates, when the mind relaxes
its vigilant control and nature has the opportunity of attending to
its proper business. A healthy reaction is the result. Nature’s
work, under the mind’s jealous attention, is like that of a good
mechanic with an overseer’s eye superintending his task, very likely
to be spoiled from too close watchfulness. Our steamer was the
Ruby, on
Pg. 83
board of which we met Dr. R.J. Massey,
the Brunswick correspondent of the “Advertiser and Appeal,” who gave
us an interesting account of St. Simon’s Island. Georgia was
settled in February, 1733, and Governor Oglethorpe settled
Frederica on St. Simon’s sound in 1736, several years before the
settlement of Savannah. Georgia was divided into two districts—the
Savannah and the Frederica—presided over by a judge and his marshals
and other officers of the court, who officiated in their gowns and
wigs with just as much pomp as if they were members of an English
court. Frederica was the residence of Governor Oglethorpe
for many years. Wesley and Whitefield labored about
there with but indifferent results.
The Spaniards of Florida were hostile to the colony, and
a body of them came from St. Augustine to break it up. A battle
ensued on St. Simon’s Island, at a place still called “Bloody
Marsh,” in which the English were victorious, killing their
assailants by hundreds. Bloody Marsh is on the easterly end of the
island, about two miles from the lighthouse. This lighthouse, made
of tabby, which had stood for many years, was blown up by the
Southerners during the rebellion. There are large sawmills upon the
island. The doctor informed us that the climate there was several
degrees warmer in winter and cooler in summer than in many Southern
localities. We remained upon the island but an hour or so,
“prospecting.” St. Simon’s Island would make a good winter resort
for Northerners seeking health, and in the near future there will
doubtless be a large hotel erected on this island for the
accommodation of winter visitors. Boats land there from
Jacksonville, Fla., and from Savannah and Brunswick, Ga.
Pg. 84
We returned to Brunswick. This
town ought to progress faster than it does, but the wealth of
Savannah gobbles up all the railroads running into this part of the
country, and poor Brunswick, not blessed with capital, has to
suffer. This seems pretty hard, and I am afraid that our children
will grow old before it becomes the very large city its founders
contemplated, that was to rival Savannah. It is a pity that such a
good seaport, with such natural advantages, should not fare better.
April 12. We took breakfast at 6.30 and soon
after embarked again on the Ruby, bag and baggage, for St.
Simon’s Island. Captain Dart of the Ruby, I found to
be the son of one of my old Brunswickers, who had died only six
weeks before, aged eithgy-three years. I had a pleasant talk with
Captain D. on the subject of fishing in St. Simon’s sound.
Fish are abundant and the varieties many, the principal “catch” in
the sound being whiting, drumfish, rockfish, bluefish, trout, bass,
mullet, and sheepshead; on the outer banks red snapper, grouper, and
blackfish; besides there are oysters, clams, and crabs in
abundance. Yet, although fish are so abundant and in such variety,
there are really none to make fishing for market a business, and the
query arose in my mind why some Northern men had not ere this
established fishing stations in these waters with Savannah and St.
Simon’s their headquarters. Terribly stupid, it seemed to me, for
the people here to keep this rich sea-mine unworked. Another
thought presented itself regarding the lack of enterprise at the
South. Here right handy was all the timber growing and all the
material to be used in making vessels, and yet all unimproved. The
stump of the tree
Pg. 85
that was cut down to make the stem of the
Constitution still remains on St. Simon’s Island.
We arrived at 8.30 A.M. and went immediately to Mrs.
Arnold’s pleasant boarding-house, a large square edifice, with a
veranda all around it, facing the southwest. The air was truly
delicious and admitted of no thought but the charm of drinking in
pleasant draughts of nature’s recuperative element. Rheumatism
must, it seemed, “get up and get” when brought in contact with such
a balmy atmosphere. After dinner, we returned to the piazza where
we sat awhile, I keeping my mind easy, for my old enemy did not dare
to show head nor shoulder for fear of getting scorched. None can
desire more than an easy mind and a body free from pain, and here
the mind ran on in pleasant reverie while nature cared for the laden
receptacle of food. Better than “good news from a far country” is
that condition where “good digestion waits on appetite and health on
both.” The roses were in full bloom just in front of us, and, only
a short distance in the rear, saws were buzzing to the tune of
100,00 feet of lumber per diem, 600,000 per week, and 31,000,000 per
annum.
We procured a wagon and started for a visit to the
lighthouse. The vehicle was not unlike a small lumber or hay cart
with heavy wheels; the horse and fixings were very fair for that
country. The driver was a negro boy, fully up to the ragged
standard, who sat upon a stool in front, while we occupied the wagon
seat which had no cushion, thus compelling us to stand or sit upon
our own resources. The start was not swift, and as we proceeded
over the rough and rutty road, not sufficiently traveled to be
anywhere
Pg. 86
smooth, we felt that, like Jordan, ‘twas “a
hard road to trabble.” On our way we passed a negro settlement, the
houses of the framed kind, but cheaply built; then a schoolhouse of
rough exterior, with from five to a dozen children in attendance,
and then to some tabby houses occupied by whites. These houses are
built of cement and shells, the material growing harder by exposure
to the atmosphere. We next plunged into the woods, where the road
dwindled into nothing more than a Northern cart path, and soon we
lost our way, having taken the wrong track. Still going on, we came
to a negro hut. We accosted the occupant:
“Can we go to the lighthouse by this road?”
“Yer on de wrong road,” was the reply; “Yer oughter hab
took de road ‘way back dar; yer can go dis way but it will
take yer out ter de beach, ‘way ‘bove der light, an’ is farder. Ef
yer want ter go, yer can follow my cart tracks, an’ yer will come
out all right.”
Three generations of negroes, comprising fifteen in
number, lived in that little framed house, and they were all out on
inspection. We started as directed and for a short time got along
well enough, but soon the palmetto leaves, low down, covered all but
the dim outline of an impracticable cart track, and we went thumping
and bumping along among the pine-tree roots, grazing the trees right
and left. Presently we came to a “fork,” and now the question
arose, “Which should we take?” When a man guesses about a thing
regarding which he knows nothing, he generally makes a mistake, and
we proved no exception to the rule, for after a few minutes we
brought up against a fence. There was a gate, however, but we did
not open
Pg. 87
it, as the stentorian voice of a stalwart negro
working in a field near by, hailed us with the remark,—
“Yer on de wrong track, Boss, if yer goin’ to der
lighthouse. Yer can go dis way, but yer better go back an’
take der cart track to der beach.”
We traced our way but did not go back far enough, and
mistaking another place for the “fork,” we took a nigh cut and soon
found ourselves “all at sea” while looking for the beach. We
wandered around in the woods for some time, now and then coming out
into small openings, and by going this way and that we managed to
find our way out. We drove past the entrance to the lighthouse
grounds and shortly found ourselves down upon the beach on the
easterly side, a mile or more from our destination. The beach was
as hard and smooth as a billiard table, the island on its entire
south and east sides being skirted by a beach, with no rock-bound
coast. We reached the lighthouse at last, and the keeper came out
to greet us.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” said he. “Get out and come
into the house, where you can sit down and rest yourselves.”
this we did, for the jaunt had given us an appetite for
the rest that the keeper invited us to.
“How long have you been keeper here?” I asked him.
“Only a short time here,” he replied. “I used to be
over on Little Cumberland; was there eight years.”
“Don’t you get lonesome here?”
“Well, ‘tis a kind of lonesome place, but we manage to
get along; my wife looks after the hens, and we go out occasionally
and shoot some game.”
“Does your wife shoot?”
Pg. 88
“Shoot! I guess you’d think so if
you should come out in the kitchen and see three fine ducks she shot
this afternoon. Shoot! I’ll bet she’ll beat me any time. Come,
let us go up into the light; I guess it won’t tire you out.”
We followed, as requested, and saw that the inside of
the lighthouse had been newly whitewashed.
“There,” said he, pointing to the walls, “don’t you call
that pretty good whitewashing, and I didn’t spill a drop, scarcely,
from top to bottom.”
After we had reached the top:
“There, gentlemen,” said he, “you see one of the finest
lights in the country. It is getting towards night, and I’ll take
off the curtains. Here I sit all the time during my half of the
night. I’m not like some fellows who turn down the lamps and go to
sleep. No, sir; that isn’t me. Now come, I want you to go down and
see the wife’s hens. She’s got some of the nicest hens you ever
saw.
I have thus wagged the keeper’s tongue instead of my
own, but while he was talking I was taking in the view from the
lantern, which was very fine. Jekyl, Cumberland, and the
surrounding country were in full sight looming up before us. The
old lighthouse I alluded to as having been blown up by the
Southerners during the war was built just after the war of 1812.
When the contract was drawn, it was so worded that stone, or other
material equally good, should be employed in the construction of
this lighthouse. This was a stroke of shrewdness on the part of the
contractor who owned all the old tabby houses in Frederica and could
work all their material of shell and cement into the new
lighthouse. The present lighthouse was built just after the war; it
is constructed of
Pg. 89
brick and is 105 feet high. The brick was made
in the vicinity.
We left the lighthouse and the beach, well pleased with
our visit, taking back for our next day’s dinner the ducks that the
keeper’s wife had shot. We again mounted our unpadded seat in the
wagon and moved on our way back to the hotel. We were more
fortunate in returning, as we came back the regular way. We passed
a good many negro habitations and a negro church. This was a
perfectly plain framed building with shutters instead of windows.
In front, suspended from a pole run out from the side of the house,
was a piece of an old circular mill saw, about two feet long by
eighteen inches wide, that served as a bell for the church; when
this was struck, the sound could be heard at a distance of two
miles. We arrived at the “hotel” at 6.30, well satisfied with our
afternoon’s excursion, more interesting from the varied incidents
attending our search for the lighthouse.
April 13. After a good night’s rest and
breakfast I enjoyed a lounge upon the piazza overlooking St. Simon’s
sound, and devoted the customary time to writing up my diary. To
sojourners the island is almost “out of the world,” so to speak, but
it is a comfort to be where one can commune with nature and let the
great, bustling, restless, discordant world, with its politics, its
strife, its greatness, and littleness, take care of itself for a
season. The mail is the connecting linking that still keeps the
recluse in touch with the outer world, however he may wish to forget
it.
At 11 A.M. we visited the immense sawmill belonging to
the “Georgia Land and Lumber Company,” organized by
Pg. 90
W.E. Dodge, Esq., of New York,
owning some 300,000 acres of land in the interior of Georgia. There
were then 100 men employed cutting timber in the forests, to be
taken by rail thirty miles to the Altamaha river, from whence it was
to be rafted down to the mill; one hundred men were ready there to
receive it and reduce it to lumber. Some seasons double the number
of men are employed. Two fine circular and gang saws were in
constant use. All the slabs and refuse were burned. Mr. Warren
Fuller, a Massachusetts man, had charge of this mill, and he
resided on the island eight months of the year. We found him a
gentleman in manners, interested in church and society, and
superintendent of the Sunday School. On our return we enjoyed a
dinner that could hardly be surpassed at the North; fresh fish,
teal, black duck, green peas, tomatoes, cabbage, potatoes, rice
apples, lemon cakes, and tea. Good enough for any one North or
South!
April 14. The morning opened pleasantly with the
wind a little easterly. At 8.30 we started out for a walk, and at
the wharf met Dr. Massey. Afterwards went to a small
plantation to the eastward and, on coming to a fence, inquired for
Mr. Johnson. The person addressed was one of the staple
population.
“Nex’ house, sar,” said he; “Yer see de missus settin by
de winder dar.”
Upon reaching the house pointed out to us, we
interrogated another “image of God cut in ebony.”
“Is this Mr. Johnson’s house?”
“Yes, sar.”
“Is he at home?”
Pg. 91
“No, sar; he out back ob de house
to work. Heah, you little gal, go show de gemman whar yer fader
am.”
The girl trotted off to find him, and it was amusing to
see the little thing, one of the standard color, carry her baby
brother, a chap about the size of a black duck, on her back, she
clasping her hands behind her, and he sitting on her arms with his
arms around her neck. We found Mr. Johnson, and he was very
communicative; he was in Tallahassee, Fla., when he became free.
“Oh, dat was a great day,” he said, “when the jubilee
come, an’ de slabes were all sot free. De white Yankee come an’
took me and twenty-fibe hosses, all ob us, up to Montgomery,
Alabama.”
To the inquiry about his family he smilingly said,—
“Oh, yes Boss, I has got seben chil’n.”
“You have a young wife, then?” I said.
“Yes, sar, my fuss wife she had seben chil’n, an’ she
died, an’ all the chil’n but one. Yes, I hab had twice seben chil’n,
fourteen in all.”
“How old is the oldest?”
“Oh, well, I reckon he is about so old”—holding his hand
about three feet from the ground.
“Can you read?”
“No, sar, but I’s gwine to teach der chil’n to read, so
dey shall know der right from der wrong.”
“Why don’t you learn?”
“Well, yer see, massa, my eyesight am gibin’ out, but I
want the chil’n to larn so us dey can read ter me.”
“Have you a church here?”
“Oh, yes, sar; I goes to der Fus’ Baptist African
church.
Pg. 92
We hab a gemman come down from Savannah once in
two months, who preaches to us.”
“Any other preacher?”
“Oh, yeas, sar; we hab anoder man dat preaches when de
oder don’t.”
We went from Mr. Johnson’s to another place and
interviewed a negro who has spent all his life on the island. He
was a servant before the war and traveled with his mistress. After
he was free he got $15 per month, which princely income he was then
enjoying as a free man. Such interviews are interesting, inasmuch
as they draw out the negro history before and since the war, and
give inklings of the character of this class of ‘Americans called
Africans,” as termed by Mrs. Child.
We took dinner at 12.10 and afterwards sat upon the
piazza awaiting the coming of Dr. Massey who was to call and
see us. We sat and talked with him for an hour about the early days
of Brunswick, including the incident of my first going there in
1853. The Doctor, in his letter to the Brunswick “Advertiser and
Appeal,” had made mention in a paragraph of some facts regarding
myself. The Doctor was called away by professional business, much
to my regret. In the evening we called at a little tabby building
by “the store” and interviewed the barber. He gave me a meaty text
for a temperance discourse: “This would be the worst place in the
world if they sold liquor.”
April 15 (Sunday). We attended service in the
“Union Church,” and listened to Rev. Mr. Dana, a young
preacher, who spoke from the text, “And the last shall be first and
the first last.” They hymns were appropriate and the singing good.
The atmosphere was very warm, but a
Pg. 93
little breeze from the sea tempered it somewhat
and rendered it more agreeable. I felt that I had never been in a
more quite place upon the Sabbath. We took a long walk after
dinner, which led us into the interior of the island past one or two
little negro churches, one with the saw bell hanging out in front.
We went as far as the little white tabby settlement. One new man
had just come here and was working some twenty acres from which to
supply the markets of Savannah and New York with green produce.
April 16. This day was to wind up our stay upon
St. Simon’s Island. We had seen enough to convince us of the beauty
of the place and its availability as a place of resort in winter; it
needed but a hotel to make it popular.
How
dear to my hear are the scenes of St. Simon’s,
As fond recollection brings up the sojourn,
The cabbage, palmetto, green peas, and tomato,
And ducks from the “lighthouse,” done just to a turn.
That queer little island,
That health-giving island,
that sleep-yielding island,
That lies by the sea.
How
well I remember the ride through the wild wood,
Where the oak and the pine and the palmetto grow,
The cart track that wildered the boy’s stupid driving,
And the horse that we had, so provokingly slow.
That St. Simon’s turnout,
That hard-seated fitout,
That darkey’s wild drive out,
Down there to the sea.
And
now, far removed from that loved situation,
Fond tears of regret will obtrusively flow,
When memory recalls the St. Simon diversion,
And sighs for its pleasures wherever we go.
Pg. 94
That
pleasant bright island,
That sunshiny island,
That health-giving island,
That lies by the sea.
The evening up to 9 o’clock was
passed very pleasantly in Mrs. Arnold’s family circle in
chatting about matters relating to the North and South, until the
plash of the paddle wheels of the steamer City of Bridgton,
coming through St. Simon’s sound, apprised us that the time of our
departure was at hand, and we must bid good-bye to the island and
those who had made our visit there so pleasant. We took the steamer
at a little before 10 o’clock and, the order being speedily given to
“let go,” we were once more steaming through the narrow channels
that characterize these Southern waters. We remained on deck for an
hour or two watching the various turns and windings among the
marshes, until St. Simon’s light grew dim in the distance. It is
pleasant to notice the skill displayed in navigating a boat while
making the inland passage.
On the way from St. Simon’s Island to Savannah the boat
stopped at “Doboy,” where, lying upon the wharf, among other things
to be taken on board, was a lot of sturgeon. “Well, Sambo,”
I asked the black deck hand, “what have you for freight to-night?”
“Oh, lots oh dem sturgeons, Massa.”
“Where were they caught?”
“Right heah in de Altamaha ribber. Set trawls for ‘em
nights. Kotch lots ob ‘em.”
“You seem to have a good many to-night.”
“Oh, dat ain’t much, dat ain’t. Dere ain’t moah dan
Pg. 95
sebenty-foah. Dat am a small lot. Sometimes
we carry a hundred or a hundred an’ fifty.”
“They must be fond of sturgeon in Savannah.”
“Dey don’t eat ‘em dar.”
“What do they do with them?”
“Oh, dey ship ‘em up Norf an’ can ‘em; den dey bran’ dem
‘sammon,’ an’ sen’ ‘em down Souf for de Suverners to eat. Yah! yah!
yah!”
Leaving Doboy we turned in for the rest of the
night.
April 17. Our fellow passengers revealed by the
morning light presented a collection of very ordinary appearance.
The steamer’s route was so twining that though we could see the
steeples of Savannah but three miles away in a direct ling we were
compelled to travel from thirteen to fifteen miles to reach the
city. When at last we arrived, all the passengers were on deck,
eagerly looking at the various objects presented to view,—Fort
Jackson, rice fields, jetty construction, lumber loading, etc., and
the several wharves lined with ships engaged in foreign commerce.
We left the Bridgton and went directly to the Pulaski House,
a palce of such interest to me. My name was first registered on the
books “Joseph Warren Smith, November 8, 1853;” second time,
March, 1878; third time, April 17, 1883. The last time, Joseph
W. Smith called for letters, and the clerk said, “Oh yes, we
have been looking for you,” handing me quite a package of
letters,—as many as twenty. (I received twenty-one at Richmond.)
After reading my letters, we went out to breathe the fresh air, but
found, instead, clouds of dust that had been blowing about the
streets from time immemorial, and had grayed the whiskers and
inflamed the lungs
Pg. 96
of past generations. We were glad to retreat
to dinner, after which we took the street car for Tunderbolt and
Bonaventura, along with quite a number of our fellow passengers on
the steamer Bridgton. This car ride was very amusing,
illustrating the slow and slack way in which everything is done in
this part of the country. We walked back from Tunderbolt to
Bonaventura, and, after looking around for half an hour, returned by
the car. It was getting late in the afternoon when we arrived, but
we thought we would call at the Boston and Savannah Steamship office
and bespeak passage for Boston, and were lucky enough to secure the
last stateroom, No. 29, on the upper deck of the steamer City of
Columbus. I closed the day by writing letters and part of my
journal, and then retired for the night.
April 18. Took a walk after breakfast with
nothing especial happening. I improved the occasion by calling on
my friend John Cunningham, of the old firm of Claghorn
& Cunningham associated with my visit in 1853, and I had a
pleasant interview with him, during which he told me about his trade
and failure, together with his experiences before and since the
war. Mr. Claghorn had died since 1878. After leaving Mr.
Cunningham I went to see Octavius Cohen, son of
Octavius Cohen of the firm of Cohen & Fosdick,
with which I did business in ’53 and ’54, and then called on Mr.
Baldwin, whose father I likewise remembered as partner in the
firm of Brigham, Baldwin & Company. It was at
Savannah as at Brunswick; the boys of my early visit had taken the
place of my contemporaries at that time, and but few were then old
enough to remember the incident of the ship Agnes. I went
down to the
Pg. 97
wharf and saw the steamer Tallahassee
sail for New York, and then went on board the City of Columbus,
where I met Mr. Joseph Shattuck and two of this daughters,
who were to be our fellow passengers to Boston. While looking at
some clay in a lighter alongside, it was remarked, pleasantly, by
one in authority—
“There is some clay that is going into candy for you
Northerners to eat.”
I turned the laugh on him by relating the story of the
sturgeon, canned as salmon, for the Southerners to eat. I spent the
evening very pleasantly with Mr. Shattuck and retired early.
April 19. I went out to the market before
breakfast. The town was on the qui vive in anticipation of
the arrival that morning of President Arthur, who was
expected to stay until Friday. He had arrived at Tybee the evening
previous, after a very rough passage from St. Augustine, Fla. He
was to have a reception in the Savannah Exchange. As we were to
leave in the City of Columbus before that time, the
opportunity was not afforded us for paying our respects. Meanwhile,
we amused ourselves by looking about the city. One point of
interest to visit was the park, and a half hour’s sojourn there well
repaid us. This park, one of the “lungs of the city,” had
everything well arranged for convenience and comfort, and its
advantages were generally availed of by citizens who sought relief
from the city’s heat in the enjoyment of the balmy air and cooling
shadows that it afforded. From the park we went to visit the
library and reading room at the W.B. Hodgson Hall. Here were
several models of steamers of old and new construction. One was
that of a
Pg. 98
steamer that crossed the ocean in 1819, the
first that ever dared the undertaking; on the opposite side of the
room was the model of the steamer City of Savannah, built in
1876, that ran for some time between New York and Savannah, and then
was in the Philadelphia line. A full-length portrait of W.B.
Hodgson graces the hall that bears his name. We returned to the
hotel for dinner, after which we bade good-bye to the gentlemanly
clerk of the house, and left for the City of Columbus at 3
P.M., where we arrived just as Mr. Shattuck and his daughters
were driving upon the dock. At 4 P.M. we started and moved slowly
down the river among the anchored shipping which was dressed in gay
attire to welcome the President. We passed, at a distance, the
United States steamship Tallapoosa, having him on board.
Savannah was nearly five miles of wharves, of which one obtains a
good view on leaving the city. We passed Fort Jackson and had a
good view of the rice plantations along the shore. We moved very
slowly, as our draught of water was as much as the channel admitted,
and, as it was, we must have touched along the muddy bottom. We
passed Tybee at 6:30 P.M., and soon the bell buoy and lightship.
The last buoy passed, and then we found ourselves on the open sea,
shaping our course about northeast. Supper over, we strolled upon
deck in pleasant conversation with Mr. Shattuck. We retired
at 10.30 and slept till near 7 next morning, “rocked in the cradle,”
wrapped in happy dreams.
April 20. We were ploughing along at the rate of
12 knots an hour, and that meant our arrival in Boston on the 23d.
The fresh air stimulated appetite for breakfast at 8 o’clock, though
there were not so many at table as the
Pg. 99
day previous. I was introduced to the master,
Capt. S.E. Wright, and found him a very agreeable person. We
were now opposite Frying Pan Shoals and witnessing the performances
of a school of porpoises, some quite near the ship. The sea was
white-capped, but comparatively smooth, though the steamer rolled
somewhat. A colored reverend, T.G. Campbell, was among the
passengers, and I listened to an argument between him and a New
Bedford man, in which the latter got terribly worsted. The subject
of discussion was the existence of a God. The colored divine had an
exalted idea of human nature, and gave evidence that those who
awakened him on “Freethinking” or Ingersollism would find their
match. At 12 o’clock we still maintained our rate of speed (12
knots) and nearly all the passengers were on deck studying, reading,
and chatting. The sea, above all places, for pure air and
appetizing influences! The water was blue and clear and in striking
contrast with the muddy rivers, sounds, and creeks of Georgia and
Florida. At dinner we enjoyed a pleasant conversation with a man
who had been in Florida since the fall before and had become very
familiar with the country. There was likewise an elderly gentleman
from New Bedford on board, who was at St. Simon’s Island at the time
of our visit. About 4 P.M. the wind veered around to northeast and
became quite a gale. The staunch ship, however, breasted it in most
approved manner, her prow unswerving in the contest.
April 21. We were still making good time, with
many of the passengers seasick, obliged to succumb to the inexorable
command of old ocean. Mr. Shattuck bore himself up sturdily,
but his daughters were both “under the
Pg. 100
weather.” To the sailor, and those unaffected
by the commotion of the waters, a rough sea gives pleasure; but to
the susceptible, the “sad sea waves” are sad indeed, and the song
with that name they don’t care about singing, except when on shore
and accompanied by a piano. We were reminded that we were not alone
on the deep by passing a steamer, supposed to be one of the
Charleston line to New York. We whiled away the morning hour by
gathering in a group, such as were able, at the stern of the
steamer, and discussing general matters which we settled to
universal satisfaction. After dinner we took up the thread
of talk, and continued in conversation, diverted occasionally by the
appearance of small craft going north or south. The close of day
left us looking for mackerel catchers off the coast, some thirty
miles away, but none appeared. The evening was delightful, the moon
in the ascendant, and we exchanged the thought of the land we were
approaching for that of the land of nod.
April 22 (Sunday). This morning we found that
the weather had changed, the wind east, and the prospect not very
favorable for the day. Long Island was now in sight, and we should
pass Block Island about 11 o’clock, crossing over to Vineyard
Sound. One New York steamer was in sight and several schooners,
close in shore, were making their way southward. We passed Montauk
Point, reached Block Island at 12 M. and made for Gay Head. I had
an interesting conversation with a gentleman from Fort Fairfield,
Me., on the Aroostook river. He had been in Florida since January,
enjoying the warmth of the Southern climate, in such contrast with
his home, where he told me, he had seen the mercury 43 degrees below
zero.
Pg. 101
At 2.30 we passed Sow and Pigs and Cuttyhunk
lights, also a mackerel fleet of twenty schooners, lots of coasters,
and three-masted schooners, and a steamer bound for New York,
heading into Vineyard Sound. The wind was still east, and rain
threatening. Passed the islands at the entrance of Buzzard’s Bay,
and saw many vessels at anchor in Tarpaulin Cove. At 3.45 P.M. we
passed Woods Holl, where vessels were lying at the Pacific Guano
Works, and at 4.30 Oak Bluff, and saw a large fleet of vessels
making for Holmes Holl to avoid the coming storm. The wind was
southeast, and everything indicated a “dirty night.” The weather
was cold, and a Dutchman on board, who had packed his overcoat in
his trunk, gave us some square talk about leaving his coat where he
could not get at it. Others had done the same, thinking they would
need neither underclothing nor overcoats. At 5.50 we passed Cross
Rip lightship and caught a dim glimpse of Nantucket; then shaped our
course for Massachusetts Bay. At 8 P.M. a snowstorm set in; at 9.30
we sighted Nausett light and at 10 made Highland light. We were at
the wharf in Boston, snug and fast, by 4 A.M., and took the train
for Andover at 7.30.
The City of Columbus was built by John Roach
at Philadelphia, in 1878, for the New York & Savannah line of
steamships, and was bought by the Boston & Savannah Steamship
Company. The Gate City was built also by Roach, and
the tow formed the line between Boston and Savannah.
Alas for the Columbus! She was wrecked off Gay
Head in January 1884.
Pg. 102
BRUNSWICK IN 1901
I WAS staying for the winter at
Pinehurst, N.C., and thought I would like to look in on Brunswick,
Ga., once more. So when Mrs. Smith and I left Pinehurst in
February on a little journey to Florida, we planned to take in
Brunswick on our way. We arrived at Brunswick via Everett
Junction at 6.30 P.M., having enjoyed for a part of our journey the
company of a Mr. Meyer, who gave me a good deal of
information about Brunswick of to-day. A peculiar but interesting
feeling came over me as I stepped from the train at Brunswick, and I
could scarcely realize that I was the young man who came there in
1853 to send the ship Agnes away to New York. There was not
a thing to show where the ship Agnes discharged her cargo of
railroad iron. The new Oglethorpe House had been built upon the
site of the old house of the same name. In 1853 the ground in front
of the hotel bordering on the sea was marshy; this had all been
filled in and built upon. The land where I piled up the iron and,
in fact, all the land in the rear of the present Oglethorpe was
taken by the railroad station and railroad tracks.
We had an amusing experience at Everett when we were
obliged to wait some three hours to make the connection for
Brunswick by rail. We asked a man at the station, who was evidently
connected with the railroad, what he had to show us. He was quite
ready to talk and said,—
Pg. 103
“We have alligators, galley
rippers, raftsmen, poor whites and rich niggers, chills and fever,
and fish.” He proved to be a genius, and when we asked him about
the razor-back hogs running about loose, he said,—
“These are not razor backs; these are fat hogs. If you
want to see a razor-back hog, you must go into the woods. Why, they
are just like a bicycle, they have got to keep travelling or they
would tip over, they are so thin; put a newspaper on one side of
them and you could read through it.”
“What about the frogs?” said I.
“Oh, they are not making much noise now, you ought to
wait till evening; the concert begins then and when I go to bed it
is at its highest pitch.”
“Do the lumbermen and raftsmen ever trouble you?”
“Oh, yes, they come out of the woods and go to the
saloon and get full, and we have lots of trouble with them. We are
obliged to keep weapons to save ourselves.”
Everett looked quite deserted except when trains
happened to meet there to pass one another.
Mrs. Smith and I went out for a walk in Brunswick
and took the Main street down a few streets below Gloucester street
and crossed over to the docks wending our way towards home along the
water front. There were three large steamer belonging to the
Mallory line taking in cargo of turpentine and resin, and one
steamer unloading railroad iron. We came up as far as a point
straight down from the Oglethorpe and found nothing to show that a
ship ever laid anywhere near there in the days of 1853. The land
had all been filled in and the territory was all owned and occupied
by the Southern Railroad Company. But I
Pg. 104
could see in my mind’s eye just how everything
looked in 1853 and 1854. I built a railroad down upon the wharf and
brought the railroad iron on a platform car up to a point above
highwater mark and neatly piled the iron in eight square piles; but
nothing remained to show where I landed the iron on the shore.
Brunswick had taken a good start since the days of my first visit
and there seemed to be a good deal of young blood in the place.
With growing railroad facilities it should become a good lumber,
cotton, and turpentine shipping-port for years to come.
We called one evening upon Mrs. Charles Moore who
was connected with the family of the late John Brooks of
Wiscasset. John Brooks, Jr., is still living near
Brunswick. We also called on William Anderson, the partner
of the late Mr. Frielander who had died some twelve years
before. Through Mr. Anderson I met John E. DeBignon
whose uncle Charles I knew in 1853. nearly all of my former
acquaintances who were living in 1853 had passed away.
At our table at the hotel, there were several young men
who were in business in Brunswick, among them two lawyers and a
clerk in the Southern Railroad office. One of the lawyers, Mr.
F.E. Twitty, has had an office in Brunswick for seven years, and
he told me many interesting things about Brunswick of to-day.
Mr. C.D. Ogg also supplied me with a good deal of information.
A drive about the city showed me the great changes that
had taken place and I was pleased to see the improvements in the
business section where substantial brick structures gave the place
the appearance of a prosperous city.
Pg. 105
I met Capt. Urban Dart of
the little steamer Egmont which plies between Brunswick and
St. Simon’s Island. Seventeen years ago, in company with the late
Capt. W.F. Goldthwaite, I went down to St. Simon’s Island and
stayed a week at Mrs. Arnold’s boarding house.
Jekyl Island, which I had visited years before, had been
purchased by influential citizens of New York who had spent much
money in beautifying the island. A fine steam yacht plies between
Jekyl Island and Brunswick.
I left Brunswick with the good wishes of all my old
friends and my new acquaintances. After a month’s stay in St.
Augustine, Savannah, Augusta, and Camden, S.C., I returned home and
was in Andover on April first. |
