LIFE OF WILSON. XCvii 



this bantling book of mine as ever author did for any progeny 

 of his brain, I now turn my wishful eye towards home. There 

 is a charm, a melody, in this little word home, which only 

 those know, who have forsaken it to wander among strangers, 

 exposed to dangers, fatigues, insults and impositions, of a thou- 

 sand nameless kinds. Perhaps I feel the force of this idea ra- 

 ther more at present than usual, being indisposed with a slight 

 fever these three days, which a dose of sea-sickness will, I hope, 

 rid me of. The weather since my arrival in this place has been 

 extremely warm for the season. The wind generally south- 

 west, and the thermometer ranging between 75 and 82. To me 

 it feels more intolerable than our summer heat in Philadelphia. 

 The streets of Savannah are also mere beds of burning sand, 

 without even a foot pavement; and until one learns to traverse 

 them with both eyes and mouth shut, both are plentifully filled 

 with showers and whirlwinds of sand. I was longer detained in 

 Charleston than I expected, partly on account of the races, which 

 occupied the minds of many I wished to visit, to the exclusion 

 of every thing else. At nine they were in bed; at ten break- 

 fasting dressing at eleven gone out at noon, and not visible 

 again until ten next morning, I met, however, with some ex- 

 cellent exceptions, among the first ranks of society, and my 

 work excited universal admiration. Dr. D. introduced it very 

 handsomely into the Courier. 



"The indolence, want of energy, and dissipation, of the 

 wealthy part of the community in that place, are truly con- 

 temptible. The superabundance of negroes in the southern 

 states has destroyed the activity of the whites. The carpenter, 

 bricklayer, and even the blacksmith, stand with their hands in 

 their pockets, overlooking their negroes. The planter orders 

 his servant to tell the overseer to see my horse fed and taken 

 care of; the overseer sends another negro to tell the driver to 

 send one of his hands to do it. Before half of this routine is 

 gone through, I have myself unharnessed, rubbed down, and 

 fed my horse. Every thing must be done through the agency 

 of these slovenly blacks. * * * These, however, are not one- 



VOL. i. N 



