Chap. XIII—B. P.] THE TIP.AT) OF THE WASHERWOMEN. 217 
To understand tlie full import of this note I must 
add a few words about the society of Port Poyal. 
There are officers in blue coats whose home is on the 
water, and officers in red coats who live in the bar ¬ 
racks, and an amphibious species of officers who live 
in the dockyard and hospital: these, with a black coat 
or two, make up the male portion of Port Poyal society. 
As regards the other and softer sex, a white lady is a 
rare sight indeed; so that the petticoats are owned, for 
the most part, by parties engaged in the business of 
getting up fine linen; the tints of whose complexions 
are varied indeed ;— 
“ Some are yallar, 
Some are blacker, 
Some the colour of a chaw of tobaccer.” 
Miss Josephine Johnson has raised herself by her 
talents to the proud position of head of the washer¬ 
women—fraternity I was going to say,—sisterhood I 
mean. She is a coloured woman, by no means ill-look¬ 
ing ; but has a formidable rival in one very much 
blacker than herself, who goes by the nickname of 
“ ^e Commodore’s mother-in-law,” and who solicited 
the getting-up of my linen with rather an overbearing 
a i r j as I thought, in consequence of this dread rela¬ 
tionship. I am bound, however, to confess that I was 
faithful to the fairer Josephine ; and hence, no doubt, 
the present invitation. 
Well, after dinner a number of us, “ gotten up,” as 
a Yankee would say, in the handiwork of our hostess— 
lily-white trousers, waistcoats, and jackets, dazzling 
white from head to foot—wended our way to the 
