On Saturday, the 31st of January, 1863, the steamer 'S.R. Spaulding,' flagship of General Foster's fleet, left the harbor of Morehead City, N. C., on a supposed expedition to some point on the Southern coast. For two days we had watched from her deck the long procession of vessels moving slowly round Fort Macon, and then, with all sails set, or under full head of steam, passing proudly on in their southward course. Only those who have witnessed such scenes can realize the eager interest and intense excitement which attend the preparation for a naval expedition. Then, too, there were glories of the past to kindle hope and stimulate ambition. The successes of Burnside, Du Pont, and Farragut were fresh in memory, and why should not we win new laurels for the old flag, and place our commander's name high on the list of fame? And so, with feelings of pride and expectation, we gladly saw the shores of North Carolina with their forests of pines recede from sight, as, under a cloudless sky and over a waveless sea, we glided on toward the hated mother State of the rebellion.

The sequel of the 'Foster Expedition' is well known. We anchored, on the 2d of February, in the capacious harbor of Port Royal, and were flagship no longer. Fortunately, the long interval between our arrival and the final departure for Charleston under another commander, gave abundant opportunities for studying new phases of life and character, and for learning something of the 15,000 freedmen who compose the loyal population of the Sea islands.

ON THE PLANTATIONS.

A geographical description of these outlying islands of South Carolina is hardly necessary at a time when we are studying the map of the republic under the guidance of bayonets and rifled cannon; and the guns of Admiral Du Pont revealed more of Port Royal and its surroundings than we should ever have learned from our geographies. Previous to the rebellion these islands seem to have been rarely visited—so rarely, indeed, that the presence of one of our naval vessels in the Beaufort river, a few years ago, was the signal for a week's festivities and a general gathering of all the inhabitants to see the strangers—while the 'cotton lords' vied with each other in entertaining the distinguished guests. For the most part the islands are low, abounding in salt-water creeks and marshes, and covered, here and there, with forests of pine and live oak. The climate in winter is delightful, and the rapid advance of vegetation in March and April—the sudden bursting into bloom of a great variety of flowers and flowering shrubs—lends additional charms to the early spring. Sitting, on one of those delicious April days, in the upper piazza of an old plantation house—the eye resting on the long stretch of the cotton fields, now green with the growing plant—or tracing the windings of the creek through the numerous small islands, till it is lost in the haze which covers all the distance—or, again, watching the shadows as they pass over the groves of oak and pine—while over the whole scene there broods the stillness of a midsummer's noon—I could but wonder at the madness which had driven the former dwellers in such a fair land into the desperate hazards and unaccustomed privations of civil war.

Those who visit these islands to-day, must not expect to realize, in the altered condition of affairs, their ideal of plantation life, however that ideal may have been formed. The change which has been wrought in little more than a year, is truly wonderful. The traces of slavery may indeed be found in an exhausted soil and an exhausted race, but all outward signs of the institution have been removed. 'The whip is lost, the handcuff broken,' the whipping post destroyed, and the cotton gins broken down. At the 'great house' you find, instead of the master and overseer, the superintendent and school teacher. In the field, the cotton tasks are comparatively small, but the garden patch in the rear of the cabin is large, well fenced in and well cultivated. If you see few indications of positive happiness, you find no appearances of overburdened misery. There is about the whole place something of the air of a New England farmstead, where labor, being honored, crowns even the humblest with dignity and peace. You take unspeakable comfort in the fact, that, open what door you may into the life of these people, there is no skeleton of oppression to startle and haunt you. Go with me, then, on this calm, bright day of early March, to visit one of the plantations on Port Royal Island, a few miles out of Beaufort. The quartermaster kindly furnishes us with a carriage, somewhat shabby and rickety to be sure, but one of the best that 'Secesh' has left for our use. Our steeds, too, are only slow-moving Government mules, but there is one aristocratic feature of our establishment to remind us of the life that was, viz.: a negro coachman 'educated to drive,' under whose skilful guidance many a happy family party have been conveyed from plantation to plantation on social visits like ours to-day. Uncle Ned speaks kindly of his 'ole massa,' and says he 'would hab stayed wid 'um, ef massa hadn't run away from heself.'

'But why didn't you go with him, uncle?'

'Oh, sah, I could nebber go to de Secesh.'

Doubtless many more of the house slaves and body servants of the planters would have followed their masters, had they not been deterred by fear of the rebel soldiers and hard work in the trenches.

'Use your whip, uncle,' and away we go at a respectable trot over the principal road on the island, which, from the fact of its having been made of oyster shells, is called the 'Shell road,' and extends ten miles to Port Royal Ferry, at the extreme western point of the island. Timely showers have laid the dust, and all the trees and bushes wear clean faces. In the yards there are peach trees in bloom, beautiful crimson japonicas, the jonquil and snowdrop; while everywhere by the roadside we see the ungainly form and coarse flower of the prickly pear. Passing the rifle pits and picket station, we soon turn off from the Shell road, and pass through what was formerly a handsome forest of pines, but which now has been cleared by the soldier's axe, and rejoices in the title of 'pickpocket tract.' Few of the plantations lie on the main road, and many of them, like the one we are now seeking, are approached only by going over several cross roads and by lanes. Our last turn takes us into a handsome avenue of live oaks, whose overarching branches are adorned with long ringlets of the graceful Spanish moss. In the woods on either side of the drive way are dogwood and Pride-of-Asia trees in full blossom, wild honeysuckle, and the sweet yellow jasmine which fills the air with its delicious fragrance. As we drive into the yard, the plantation house suddenly appears to view, half hidden by the dense foliage of magnolia and orange trees. Although called one of the finest residences on the island, the house is inferior to many of our larger farmhouses in New England, and is a simple two-story structure of wood, resting on brick piles, with a veranda in front. Just beyond the path that leads by the house, is a handsome flower garden, while both in the rear of the 'great house' and beyond the flower garden are rows of negro huts. We are soon greeted by our hosts—one, a brave Vermonter, who served faithfully in the army till disabled, the other, a Quaker of Philadelphia, who has left family and friends to labor for the freedman—and ushered into the principal room of the house, where we are presented to a party of the neighboring superintendents and school teachers. Dinner is all ready, and we sit down to a right royal entertainment, the chief dishes of which are portions of an immense drumfish cooked in various fashion. Few entertainers can prove more agreeable than Northern men with Southern hospitality, and we eat and make merry without even a thought of Colonel Barnwell, whose home we have thus 'invaded,' and who, perchance, is shivering in the cold, and suffering the privations of a rebel camp in Eastern Virginia. We must not omit the praise due to our cook, a woman taken from the 'field hands,' and whose only instructors have been our hosts, neither of whom can boast of much knowledge of the art of cooking. It would, however, be hardly safe to trust to an untutored field hand, as I once learned to my cost, when my contraband of the kitchen department called me to dinner by announcing that the eggs had been boiling for an hour, and the oysters stewing for twice that time!

HOME LIFE OF THE FREEDMEN.

After dinner we visit the negroes in their cabins. The home life of the freedmen is at once the most noticeable and most interesting feature of their new condition. Even in former days, however often the sanctity of their homes may have been violated, with however weary limbs and suffering souls they may have gone to them, yet here they must have found their chiefest joy. Now, the humble cabins have become transfigured, and we find therein not only joy, but peace and comfort, and, indeed, in greater or less degree, every element of that domestic order which makes the home the corner stone of our free institutions. I have frequently, when conversing with the freedmen about the flight of their former masters, asked them why they did not accompany them, and have invariably received the reply, 'Oh, sah, we couldn't do dat. We belongs yere. Dese are our homes.' This strong attachment to the soil, which has been made still stronger by the removal of everything which could in any way remind them of their former condition, has proved to be the great lever to raise them into the dignity of free laborers. It is true their cabins are not yet free-holds; but the assurance that, unless the Government itself fails, no fault or misfortune of another can ever deprive them of their homes, puts them at once on their good behavior, that they may retain in their possession what they prize so dearly. The good results of this transformation of the home are seen in every direction. The marriage relation is observed with a constantly increasing strictness. Family ties are knitted more closely together. Parents take a deep interest in the education of their children, and the children become in turn teachers to the parents of much that is improving and civilizing. In the field there are generous rivalries between families to see which will cultivate the largest patches of corn and cotton. Greater neatness and order are observable about the dwellings, and wherever new cabins have been erected—always by negro carpenters—there has been marked improvement in the style and comfort of the buildings. Freedom has also created new wants, and the freedman purchases from time to time, as he has ability, articles of luxury and of ornament for his home.

I must, however, acknowledge a feeling of disappointment at not finding the negroes more joyous in this new condition of freedom and progress. Those who know them best—the superintendents and teachers—testify to the happiness of their daily lives and their light-hearted enjoyment of all their blessings; but to the casual observer there seems to be a general absence among the freedmen of that cheerfulness and mirth which he naturally expects to find in their homes. A simple explanation of this fact may be found in the sense of insecurity which the uncertain issue of the civil war that rages about them creates in their minds. They have seen one after another of those islands which have been in our possession given up to the reoccupation of the rebels; the disastrous battles of James's Island and Pocotaligo and the fruitless campaigns in Florida are fresh in their minds; while that wearisome waiting for something to be accomplished which spreads such a spirit of restlessness and discontent among our soldiers, is felt even more keenly by the freedmen. There is very much in the uncertainties of their present condition to justify the favorite allusion of their preachers, who often compare the freedmen to the children of Israel before they had fairly gained the promised land. Until a permanent peace shall give to these people that feeling of security, without which, though there may be contentment, there can be little joyousness, it is absurd for us to 'require of them mirth,' or ask them to sing songs of gladness.

FREE LABOR.

Cochin, in his admirable work on the 'Results of Emancipation,' asserts of the negroes: 'This race of men, like all the human species, is divided into two classes, the diligent and the idle; freedom has nothing to do with the second, while it draws from the labor of the first a better yield than servitude.' Has this statement proved true on the Sea Islands? The prejudiced are ready with their negative answer, and point to the comparatively small amount of cotton raised during the past year. By such persons no allowance is made for the peculiarly unfavorable circumstances under which the experiment of free labor thus far has been tried, and they are only too happy to charge upon emancipation all the evils which labor has suffered from the presence of our soldiers and the continuance of the war. The causes of the smallness of the cotton crop produced last year, are obvious to the most careless observer. Owing to the late arrival of the first company of superintendents who were sent from the North, no preparations were made for planting till more than two months after the usual time. On many of the plantations the seed used was of a poor quality, while it was almost impossible to find any implements of culture or to obtain the necessary mules or horses. As a consequence of the late planting, the cotton was not sufficiently advanced to resist the attacks of the caterpillars in September, and for a month these insects held grand carnival on the yet immature plants, causing widespread damage to the crop. The low wages offered to the freedmen by Government were no offset to the attractions of trading with the army and navy, and all the negroes were ambitious to have some connection with camp life. As a natural result of this condition of things, both the industry and interest of the freedmen were drawn away from the cotton fields. Early in the season, also, when the young crops required constant attention, all the able-bodied men were drafted into General Hunter's regiments, and kept in camp till the fall. The influence of the draft upon those who remained at home, added to the delay and smallness of the Government payments, made the laborers discouraged at their prospects, disaffected toward the superintendents, and careless at their work.

The obstacles in the way of successful agricultural operations, produced by the military occupation of the islands, are still further evident from the fact that both provision and cotton crops improved in proportion to the distance from the camps. Thus, on Port Royal and Hilton Head Islands, where most of the troops were encamped, very little cotton was raised, and so small a crop of provisions, that it became necessary for Government to ration many of the freedmen during a brief period. On Ladies' and St. Helena Islands, away from the immediate vicinity of the camps, very fair crops of cotton were raised, and nearly enough provision for the support of all the laborers. The rations furnished by Government, and which have given rise to so much unfriendly comment, were called for, either by the refugees from the mainland and adjacent islands, many of whom had at first no means of subsistence, or by the freedmen on those plantations so exposed to the camps and so harassed by the soldiers, that the crops which they were able to gather failed to last them through the year. In one district on St. Helena Island, including three plantations, which was under the care of a capable and judicious superintendent, of sufficient means to advance his private funds to the payment of the laborers, the total receipts from the sale of the cotton and the surplus provisions raised were more than double all the expenses incurred in wages, clothing, and superintendence.

Such were the results of the first year's experiment. Early in the present year several of the plantations passed into the possession of private individuals, and thus an important change has been effected in the aspect of the free-labor problem. On the Government plantations, which are under the care of salaried superintendents as last year, a uniform system of labor has been adopted, embodying the results of previous experience. Under this system, the laborers agree as to the amount of cotton land which they will cultivate, and are then paid twenty-five cents a day for their work. At the end of the year they are to receive a bonus of two cents per pound of unginned cotton for picking. This additional reward at once stimulates them to exertion, and teaches them that steady and continued labor brings the best return. In addition to raising the amount of cotton agreed upon, each freedman is responsible for cultivating corn and potatoes enough for his own subsistence, and land is allotted for this purpose. The laborers are also required to produce corn enough for the subsistence of the plantation mules and horses, for the use of the superintendents, and for the subsistence of all the old and disabled persons for whom provision is not otherwise made. As regards payments, the Government theory is most excellent, inasmuch as it provides for partial payments while the work is going on, so as to furnish the freedman enough money for his immediate wants, and then, by the bonus which is paid at the end of the year, supplies him with an amount greater than his wages, to be laid up or put out at interest. Unfortunately the practice of the Government has been most injurious. The delay in the monthly payments during the past year, sometimes for as long a period as six months, caused the laborers to become discouraged, discontented, and suspicious. Unlike the soldier, the freedman is not clothed or fed by Government (except in the case of those who are utterly destitute), nor can he, like other laborers, obtain credit to the extent of the wages due him. Under these circumstances, the delay on the part of the Government in paying the freedman has been not only unjust to the laborers but disastrous to the workings of the free-labor system.

On the purchased plantations we find a wholly different state of things, and, as might be expected, a great variety of systems of labor. Some of the best managers keep up the Government scale of prices, but pay the laborers more promptly, and increase their wages by many indirect means, such as giving them bacon and molasses in proportion to the amount of cotton land which they cultivate, providing a store for the plantation, where the freedmen can purchase articles at a much lower rate than elsewhere, keeping the cabins in good repair, building new ones, and having always on hand the necessary plantation implements for facilitating the culture of the cotton. Others pay higher wages, and also increase the bonus which is paid for picking the cotton. Some promise the freedmen so much per pound for the cotton which they shall raise, and see that all their wants are supplied till the crop is gathered; while still others, from lack of judgment or capital, offer the negroes a certain portion of the crop—in some cases as high as two thirds—in return for their labor. On all these plantations the freedmen are doing better than on those which are still retained by Government. The average amount of cotton land which has been planted this spring is from an acre and a half to two acres for each 'full hand.' Under slavery a full hand took care on an average of three acres, but it must be remembered that all the able-bodied negroes, excepting only a foreman to each plantation, have been drafted into the army, or are working in the Quartermaster's Department.

At the present time all indications point to a successful season. Riding over many of the plantations, I have seen the negroes at work breaking up the ground or planting the seed, and everywhere found them laboring diligently, and even showing a manly emulation in their tasks. Yet it would be unreasonable to expect too much where so many obstacles beset the way. As one of the new planters writes: 'For success in an experiment of free hired labor among ignorant blacks just emancipated, conditions of peace and quiet are absolutely necessary. However, the difficulties in our way are purely natural workings, and merely show that black is more nearly white than is usually allowed.' Perhaps the greatest of these obstacles is the vicinity of the camps at Beaufort and Hilton Head, which tempts the freedmen to leave their regular employments and obtain an easy livelihood by the sale of eggs, chickens, fish, oysters, &c. Such markets affect the blacks on the plantations just as the California fever affected the laboring men of the North a few years ago; and it is a matter of surprise and congratulation that the presence of the soldiers has not produced a greater demoralization among the negroes than we find to be the case.

Five of the plantations were bought by the freedmen themselves, who are now carrying them on as independent cultivators. Everywhere the freedmen, on hearing that the lands were to be sold, were eager to buy, and it was found in many cases that they had saved considerable sums of money from their earnings of the previous year. This almost universal desire of the negroes to become landowners, is a complete refutation of the charge that sudden emancipation from forced labor opens the door for the return of the blacks to barbarism.

The conditions under which the trial of free labor is now carried on in South Carolina, are unparalleled in history. Those who are familiar with the results of emancipation in the French and English colonies, will find few points of comparison between those results and the present workings of freedom on the Sea Islands. Consider that at no previous time, and in no other country, has there ever been an immediate and unconditional abolition of slavery. France, in the frenzy of the Revolution, declared that slavery was abolished, but was forced to reËstablish it under the Consulate; and, during the half century which followed before the complete and final emancipation of the slaves in 1848, we find continually acts and measures adopted which gradually paved the way to this ultimate success. England, too, after the abolition of the slave trade, made repeated efforts to ameliorate the condition of the slave population of her colonies, and when, in 1833, the Act of Emancipation was passed, it was found that, while declaring all slaves on English soil to be instantly free, it made provisions for transforming them into apprenticed laborers. In South Carolina, emancipation, proclaimed by the guns of Admiral Du Pont, was instant, unlooked for, and without conditions. However ardently it may have been desired by the slaves themselves, they surely could not have expected it, at a time when the belief universally prevailed among the planters that the forts which defended their islands were impregnable.

In the colonies of France and England, there was no civil war, bringing into the midst of the plantations the demoralizing influences of the camp, harassing the simple-minded freedmen with constant fear of reverses, which would consign them to a worse bondage than they had ever known, and tending, in the absence of all civil law and the restraints of a well-ordered society, to draw away the laborer from the cultivation of the soil. In South Carolina, moreover, no masters or overseers were left, as in the French and English colonies, to direct the negroes in their labor; and, in consequence, their guidance has been intrusted to a body of superintendents from the North, most of them young men, and all without experience, either in the management of the blacks or the culture of the cotton. This complete separation of the freedmen from their former masters, by reason of the flight and escape of all the planters, has been, in many respects, most favorable to their progress in liberty. Consider for a moment what would have been the result if, at any time during the past thirty years, it had been possible to effect the abolishment of slavery in these islands by an act of the General Government. Who can doubt that such an act, passed against the wills of the slaveholders, would have produced the most disastrous consequences, and that such an experiment of free labor as is now going on would have been utterly impossible? Those, at least, who have had opportunities for observing the bitter hate engendered toward the negroes, among those masters whom the proclamation of the 1st of January deprived of their former 'chattels,' cannot but regard with satisfaction such peaceful solutions of this fearful problem as that effected at Port Royal, where the shot and shell of our gunboats, in breaking the chains of the slave, at the same moment compelled the master to flight.

RELIGION OF THE FREEDMEN.

The religious condition of the South Carolina freedmen presents many peculiar and interesting features. Whether, like the negroes in the 'old North State,' they celebrated their new birth into freedom by services of praise and thanksgiving at the altar, I have been unable to learn; but certain it is, that the wonderful tranquillity of their sudden transition from bondage, and the good use which they have made of their liberty, are owing in great measure to their deep religious earnestness. This earnestness, it is evident, is not the result of conviction or enlightenment, so much as of the strong emotional nature of the blacks, intensified by sympathy, and kept alive to religious feeling by their frequent meetings for prayer and praise. Yet, to the careful observer, the blind and often superstitious worship of these people, which, as is now so plainly seen, was fostered by slavery, is one of the saddest results of the system. Those who are now permitted to watch over the religious progress of the freedmen, can bring new and abundant proof to the assertion of De Tocqueville, that 'Christianity is a religion of freemen.' The present opportunities for religious worship which the freedmen enjoy consist of their 'praise meetings'—similar in most respects to our prayer meetings—which are held two or three times a week on the plantations, and the Sunday services at the various churches scattered about the islands. These services are usually conducted by white preachers, and are attended not only by the negroes, but also by the superintendents, teachers, and many casual visitors from the camps. At Beaufort and Hilton Head large and flourishing Sunday schools are in operation. Most of the freedmen belong either to the Baptist or Methodist denomination, and the fervor and zeal of the preachers of the latter persuasion always find a response in the excitable and impulsive nature of the blacks. It is not a little singular that, while Cochin can write concerning the freedmen in the French colonies that 'the Catholic worship has incomparable attractions for the blacks,' we find the negro in our own country everywhere attracted toward that sect of Protestants which has always been the most powerful antagonist to Romanism.

On Sunday, the 15th of March, in company with a party of superintendents and teachers, I attended a service held for the freedmen on St. Helena's Island. Our ride from the plantation took us through field and wood, till we reached the main road on which the church is situated. It is a simple, unpretending structure of brick, shaded on all sides by handsome live oaks. Near by is the small cemetery, and the drooping moss from the oaks hangs in sombre beauty over the graves. Under the trees is a group of superintendents discussing the news and the last order of General Hunter. As we ride up, a party of officers comes galloping in from camp, while from the other direction is seen approaching a venerable carryall, conveying a party of lady teachers from a distant plantation. The service has already begun, and the church is crowded with the dusky auditors, while here and there may be seen a pew filled with 'white folks.' The day is warm, so we can stand by the open window and take in the whole scene at a single glance. No danger to-day of any manifestations of overwrought feelings; no groans nor excited shoutings of 'Amen.' The preacher has taken his text from the first chapter of Genesis, and he is describing the wonders of the creation. His sermon might properly be entitled a 'Disquisition upon the Universe.' It is evident that his colored hearers fail to see the 'beauty and mysterious order of the stellar world' which he is portraying, for most of them are already dozing, and the rest are nodding their heads as if in sleepy assent to the undoubted truth of the good man's words. He has overreached his mark, and hits neither the heads nor the hearts of his congregation. At length the discourse is ended, and all rise to join in the closing hymn, which is 'deaconed off' by the minister, and responded to by the negroes in a monotonous 'yah, yah.' They have not recovered from the soporific effect of the sermon, and, besides, can hardly be blamed for not catching the feebly uttered words. But their time is coming. No sooner is the benediction pronounced, than one of the negro elders strikes up a well known hymn, and, suddenly rousing from their stupor, the whole congregation join in singing in clear and ringing tones verse after verse of the jubilant song. Then follow other hymns and chants peculiar to the negro worship, the crude expressions of their deep emotional feeling. As we leave the church, we are convinced that the religious teachers of the newly freed blacks are sadly at fault in repeating so much the kind of preaching to which the negroes were accustomed under the old system, and in neglecting to pour into their perceptive souls both the light and warmth of the Gospel. As an officer remarked who had stood at our side listening to the service: 'These people had enough of the Old Testament thrown at their heads under slavery. Now give them the glorious utterances and practical teachings of the Great Master.'

At some of the meetings of the freedmen, they are addressed by negro preachers, who never fail to speak with great effect. In Alexandria, Va., I was told by the superintendent of the freedmen of an old negro teacher and exhorter, the self-elected pastor of all the blacks there, going about from house to house to minister to the wants of the sick and afflicted, teaching the young, and speaking in all the meetings. 'This old negro,' said the superintendent, 'has more influence over the blacks, and does more good among them, than all the missionaries and chaplains who have been sent here.' To the same effect is the testimony of all who have listened to the colored preacher at Port Royal, and who know the great power which the chief elders of their churches possess over the rest of the negroes. A verbatim report of an exhortation given, just before the expedition to Jacksonville, Fla., to the soldiers of Colonel Higginson's 1st South Carolina Volunteers, by one of these negro preachers, would be worthy a place in 'American Oratory.' I remember only one striking passage, where, in his appeal to the troops to fight bravely, he urged them to seek always the post of danger, since heaven would be the immediate reward of all who should be killed in battle; for, said he, as if moved by an oracle: 'What hab been, dat will be. He who is de fust man to get into de boat, and de fust to jump on shore, him, if he fall, will be de fust to get to heaben.' Then, as if standing already in the midst of the fight, and with all the feelings of his nature roused against his enemies, he added: 'An' when de battle comes—when you see de Kunn'l put his shoulder to de wheel, and hear de shot and shell flying all round like de rain drops, den remember dat ebery one ob dose shot is a bolt ob de Almighty God to send dem rebels to deir eberlasting damnation.' Such fervent utterances are not uncommon among the negro preachers, and are well calculated to produce a powerful effect upon the susceptible natures of their hearers, 'deep answering unto deep.'

NEGRO 'SHOUTS' AND SHOUT SONGS.

At the 'praise meetings' on the plantations, one of the elders usually presides, and conducts the exercises with great solemnity. Passages of Scripture are quoted from memory, and the hymns, which constitute the principal feature of the meeting, are deaconed off as at church. Sometimes the superintendent or one of the teachers attends these meetings, and is then expected to conduct the exercises and make an address. After the praise meeting is over, there usually follows the very singular and impressive performance of the 'Shout,' or religious dance of the negroes. Three or four, standing still, clapping their hands and beating time with their feet, commence singing in unison one of the peculiar shout melodies, while the others walk round in a ring, in single file, joining also in the song. Soon those in the ring leave off their singing, the others keeping it up the while with increased vigor, and strike into the shout step, observing most accurate time with the music. This step is something halfway between a shuffle and a dance, as difficult for an uninitiated person to describe as to imitate. At the end of each stanza of the song the dancers stop short with a slight stamp on the last note, and then, putting the other foot forward, proceed through the next verse. They will often dance to the same song for twenty or thirty minutes, once or twice, perhaps, varying the monotony of their movement by walking for a little while and joining in the singing. The physical exertion, which is really very great, as the dance calls into play nearly every muscle of the body, seems never to weary them in the least, and they frequently keep up a shout for hours, resting only for brief intervals between the different songs. Yet, in trying to imitate them, I was completely tired out in a very short time. The children are the best dancers, and are allowed by their parents to have a shout at any time, though, with the adults, the shout always follows a religious meeting, and none but church members are expected to join. It is to one of these shouts of the negro children that Mr. Russell alludes in his Diary when describing a visit which he paid to a plantation near Charleston in April, 1861. He speaks of the children as a set of 'ragged, dirty, and shoeless urchins, who came in shyly, oftentimes running away till they were chased and captured, dressed into line with much difficulty, and, then, shuffling their flat feet, clapping their hands, and drawling out in a monotonous sort of chant something about the 'River Jawdam.'' Such a sketch conveys no idea of the shout as it may be witnessed to-day on any of the plantations among the Sea Islands. You will find the children clean, and, in general, neatly dressed, coming into the room when asked by the superintendent, rendering their impressive and oftentimes pleasing melodies in a manner seldom surpassed in our schools at the North, while their 'shouting' reveals a suppleness of limb and peculiar grace of motion beyond the power of our dancing masters to impart.

There are many features of the negro shout which amuse us from their strangeness; some, also, that strike the observer as wholly absurd. Yet, viewed as a religious exercise—and in this light it is always considered by the older negroes—I cannot help regarding it, in spite of many of its characteristics, as both a natural and a rational expression of devotional feeling. The negroes never indulge in it when, for any reason, they feel downhearted or sad at their meetings. The shout is a simple outburst and manifestation of religious fervor—a 'rejoicing in the Lord'—making a 'joyful noise unto the God of their salvation.'

The words of the shout songs are a singular medley of things sacred and profane, and are the natural outgrowth of the imperfect and fragmentary knowledge of the Scriptures which the negroes have picked up. The substitution for these crude productions of appropriate hymns, would remove from the shout that which is now the chief objection to it in intelligent minds, and would make of the dance, to which the negroes are so much attached, a useful auxiliary in their religious culture. The tunes to which these songs are sung, are some of them weird and wild—'barbaric madrigals'—while others are sweet and impressive melodies. The most striking of their barbaric airs it would be impossible to write out, but many of their more common melodies are easily caught upon being heard a few times. This music of the negro shout opens a new and rich field of melody—a mine in which there is much rough quartz, but also many veins of sparkling ore.

What, for example, could be more animated, and at the same time more expressive of the thought conveyed in the verse than the following chorus?—the introduction to which is a sort of recitative or chant: