TOUR IN THE UNITED STATES. 203 



mainland. These are the famous " Sea Islands," on which the 

 best quality of cotton is grown ; but they do not seem to be 

 half peopled or planted. A great part of the land is still 

 covered with pine and with the palmetto, which I have men- 

 tioned before, of which there are several species ; one kind does 

 not rise much above the ground. Along the shore are sundry 

 species of Yucca, or Adam's needle, which have a striking 

 effect. They are now loaded with fruit. We steamed all 

 the day for one hundred miles through the narrow and 

 sinuous channels between the islands, and at 10 p.m. found 

 ourselves alongside the wharf at Savannah. Shortly after, 

 myself and traps (rather bulky) were safely lodged in the 

 Pulaski House, or best hotel; I soon took possession of my 

 quarters, and had the satisfaction of being sung to sleep by a 

 mosquito. 



Though it is only January, the weather is like that of our 

 warmest summer days ; but it is rather odd to feel such weather, 

 and then to look out on leafless trees and on ground where 

 withered leaves and dead stalks abound. But a change will 

 soon come, and already the violets are in the woods, and the 

 wild jessamine (botanical name Gelsemium, with a flower the 

 shape of a yellow Bignonia) is beginning to open in every sunny 

 spot. The grass also is springing up, besides which, a large 

 portion of the forest is evergreen, and there are roses, camellias, 

 and narcissi in the gardens. 



Savannah, though an important place of trade, is more like a 

 large village than a city. The houses are small ; the streets 

 wide and lined with trees, looking like rural avenues. There 

 are many small squares, and, I am told, thirty-one churches of 

 one kind or another. The city is built on a sandy plain, which 

 is elevated some twenty or thirty feet above the rest of the 

 country, and thus stands high and dry. The country is rather 

 monotonous after you get accustomed to the vegetation. You 

 are, at first sight, struck with the number of new trees, but 

 more especially with the long moss (Tillandsia) hanging in 

 thick mournful tresses from every oak, the tufts from one to six 

 feet long. In a cemetery here there are some noble avenues 

 of evergreen, or " live " oaks, which are draped so richly with 

 this moss as to make them literally dressed in mourning-weeds ; 

 and one fancies that it would be pleasant to be buried under 



