but a simple record of their names must suffice just here. We kept a register in our "Bible," and now have the autographs of Mrs. C. D. Melton, Mrs. George Symers, Mrs. Preston Hix, Mrs. LeConte, Mrs. Goodwyn, Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Boatwright, Mrs. Thornwell, Jr., Mrs. McCormick, Mrs. Horace Leland, Mrs. N. W. Edmunds, (the writer's only surviving sister; she and Mrs. Horace Leland did not reside in Columbia), Miss Percival, Miss Gussie Waltour, Miss Fickling, Miss May and Miss Smith.

Of the numerous sympathizers of the sterner sex, probably Dr. Plumer, and his son-in-law, Mr. S. S. Bryan, were the most constant. The latter was a Pennsylvanian, yet, though his powers of locomotion were very feeble, hardly a day would pass without his kind sympathy and pleasant words. Dr. Plumer brought two tin pails on his first visit, the one with a gallon of tea, ready sweetened, and the other of chicken soup. As there were more of our number complaining besides the sick man, these proved very acceptable. Every day after that, Sundays excepted, his rockaway would be seen at our gate; and balanced by the same tin-pails, with precisely the same quantity of tea and soup, his venerable form could be seen ascending our stairs. Where he obtained such a constant supply of chickens, in a market so variable as that of Columbia, was a puzzle to all of us; but they never fell short in legs or wings. One day, there was an extra newspaper bundle under one arm, and on opening it before me, (I can hear his deep tones now), "We don't want you to give up too much, at

once!" Saying this, he displayed a goodly pile of hanks of the finest Virginia smoking tobacco! A very sensible present it was, as it reminded me so often of the kind donor every day, and caused me to bless him so early every following day. Rev. Drs. Howe, J. Leighton Wilson, Jos. R. Wilson, Adger, Smyth, Girardeau, and Rev. Messrs. Green, Manning Brown, Wm. Martin and J. H. Thornwell, were frequently with us. From such a list, we had no difficulty in getting two sermons every Sunday, and very excellent lectures at our family prayers. The Theological Students also frequently came round, and conducted evening worship for us. Dr. Plumer distributed some of his own books, and Dr. Adger saw to it, that every one who needed it should be supplied with a neat copy of the New Testament and Psalms, bound together.

Eternity alone will develop all the fruits of these high religious privileges; but the writer knows of three cases, where they were most signally blessed. One of these was a gentleman of high standing, who, before his imprisonment, seldom attended church, and was rather sceptical in his views. A few weeks after his liberation, he appeared before the session of the Presbyterian Church in Laurens, on a profession of faith, and has since become a Ruling Elder and one of the pillars of the church. Whether such results as these did not compensate a thousand fold for all our troubles, is a home question, materially modifying the cry of "martyrdom."

Our "fellow-citizens," who honored us by their

visits, constitute a very formidable list. Among them can be mentined, Col. Thomas, Dr. Miot, Dr. Smith, Gen. Preston, Col. McMaster, Col. Palmer, W. H. Trescott, R. L. Bryan, J. H. Kinard, and many others. Col. Thomas and Dr. Miot were the most constant and regular of these, and their matinee visits were always anticipated with much pleasure. The writer can safely assert, that at no previous visit to Columbia, and for the same length of time, had he ever seen so many of his friends, and so often.

General Preston's notions of spiritual comfort differed somewhat from the D. D.'s. His remark to us was, "well, gentlemen, we are all in jail in South Carolina; the only difference is, you are under shelter, and those of us who are on the outside, have to dodge the storm as best we can." Soon after he left, he sent us a five gallon keg of lager beer. For want of something better, we drew it off in water buckets, and thus distributed it up and down stairs. Never has lager beer been served in more generous bumpers, and never was a keg more expeditiously despatched. And as to the quantities imbibed, some found they had deceived themselves, while trying to deceive their neighbors.

Neither were all efforts at entertainment on one side. Capt. McCarley, the oldest of our number, was the greatest ladies' man we had. Ben Ballou, with his whistling, accompanied by the guitar, would outdo the mock-bird itself at its own notes. And the irrepressible Sim. Pearson was the life of the whole party in practical jokes, and a cheerfulness that

nothing could interrupt. He had spent some months in a Northern prison during the war, and his jail experience was invaluable to us. A very energetic, industrious farmer at home, he made the most of the small area he now had, for physical efforts. He was sweeping the floor constantly, while daylight lasted, and if any stray newspaper fell in his way, it was sure to go into the fire. He said he had not read one of them since the war, and he never intended to read one again. Once he was seen with his head bowed almost between his knees, as he sat on the edge of his bunk. Some one, rallying him on having the "blues," he said: "I was just thinking that my poor wife had been bothering me, all spring, to let her have the horses for just three hours to go and see her mother, and I always answered her that I could not possibly spare them. Now, just to think, she has had them for three weeks, to go just where she pleases!" Then with one or more perpendicular leaps, followed by successive somersaults, without regard to the impenetrability of his neighbors, he would scatter his cares to the winds. The only memorial he kept of his farm, was a small onion-set, planted in a match-box filled with earth, and kept constantly on the mantel-piece. Mrs. Woodrow fell heir to this, at last, and took it with her on her three years' sojourn in Europe. Now that she has returned home, she has the same box with the same earth in it, and waiting for Sim. to renew his crop.

When Mayor McKenzie presented us with a box of assorted candy, Sim. became confectioner with some mercantile devices not known to the outer world.

CHAPTER NINTH.

JOURNAL CONTINUED.

To resume the Journal, so long suspended:

“April 8th. After having been allowed more than a week to become acquainted with our new quarters, we were summoned to-day, for the first time, before the United States Commissioner. It looks somewhat strangely, to be arrested under a warrant, requiring our immediate presence before the Commissioner, and then to be left in jail for ten days, before any call is made. But we must remember, this is Reconstruction.

We were marched in procession with one assistant U. S. Marshal at the head, and another in the rear, nearly the whole length of Main street, down to the State House. Of course this exhibition was much enjoyed by the 'lewd fellows of the baser sort,' black and white, who so constantly infest the streets of Columbia. The room occupied by the Commissioner was well supplied with chairs, but these were all filled by greasy wenches, who sat there to enjoy the spectacle of white men brought to grief. The Commissioner himself (Boozer) is a poor creature, a mere tool of Joe Crews, without whose instructions he says nothing in these cases. Joe was sitting by his side and looking more like a culprit than any of those before him. We were asked when we would be ready