A Primitive Stage Coach. 191 



This is Saturday, and you know I shall be very 

 busy. I begun this letter by candle-light, having 

 been called up during the night to baptize a sick 

 child, I therefore, wile away the early morn- 

 ing hour in writing to you. 



Mr. C - - met Eliza and party in New Orleans ; 

 from his account, she is, at least, no worse. By this 

 time, she must be in Cuba. I wrote to her last 

 night, by a vessel that sailed for that port. 



When I reached Georgetown, the steamboat had 

 not arrived. I waited until 4 o'clock P. M., and 

 thought it best then to take the stage. It was the 

 little apple cart I came up in. The seams below 

 were open, and the winds had a fair sweep through 

 the little vehicle. It was a sadly cold night. You 

 know, however, I profess to be a philosopher, and I 

 made the best of it. I had occupation and amuse- 

 ment, for the stage door flew open about every quar- 

 ter of an hour, with a considerable degree of regu- 

 larity, and, by counting the number of times I shut 

 the door, I could make a tolerable guess at the dis- 

 tance travelled. The stars were bright, and I could 

 easily see them through the torn curtains ; and I 

 brushed up the little Astronomy that I had not for- 

 gotten. At "Santee Ferry?' I had the coach filled 

 up with straw, and there I met F., and was glad to 

 have company. * * 



Thank our friends for all their kindness. They 

 have given me pleasant reminiscences of Waccamaw 

 turkey, Waccamaw snipe, and good long Waccamaw 

 yarns. I have come back to my duties with better 

 health and redoubled relish." 



To JOHN W AUDUBON. 



January, 1841. 



My health is, on the whole, good ; but the least 

 over mental exertion, or a neglect to spend a day in 



