by a merry negro-girl, servant in the house, who says “Missis has sent me to hunt you,” and it is for me to come in to my luncheon. If I am writing I remain in my own room and then, generally at twelve o'clock, the good old lady herself comes up to me with bananas and a glass of milk. In the afternoon I generally go on some expedition of discovery. When I am returning home in the twilight I often see my old folks coming to meet me, she walking with a crutch and supported by his arm.
24th.—Last evening I had an old negro to row me in a little canoe down the Wachamon river, spite of Mr. Poinsett's remonstrances, who fancied that no good would come of it. The moon rose and shone brightly on the river and its banks, over which hung various trees and plants in flower with which I was unacquainted. The negro, a kind old man, paddled the boat onward, and wherever I saw an enticing flower, thither we paddled and gathered it. Thus went we on for about two hours in that clear moonlight, and everything was as solitary and silent on the river, and on its banks, as in a desert.
There had, however, been this day a great wedding on the banks of the Wachamon, and all the neighbours had been invited; but either my host and hostess did not belong to their circle of acquaintance or the fame of my abolitionist views had prevented us being invited. Very good! for though I love to see brides and weddings, yet I love quietness now better than all.
My good host and hostess were glad to see me return from my river-excursion, and Mr. Poinsett told me the names of the flowers which I had gathered; one of these was the Magnolia glauca, a white flower something like our white water-lily; this grows on a smaller tree, with grey-green leaves; the celebrated, splendid flower of the South, the Magnolia grandiflora, does not blossom till the end of May.
I shall in a few days leave this place and return to
