Notes of a Southern Trip.
[correspondence of the Dispatch.] Columbia, S. C., April 25, 1863.
It gives me pleasure to resume the correspondence which I began about a year ago and continued during the active campaign in Northern Virginia.
Now, I write not of marches and battles, but of scenes which, though far more quiet, I hope may have some interest in the present comparative skill in military operations.
In the prosecution of a mission connected with the welfare of our soldiers, I have leisurely reached this embowered city, via Raleigh and Charlotte.
Everywhere my cause has met with the sympathy and aid of the people, especially the fairer portion.
En route I noticed a large number of orchards, all promising an abundant yield of fruit.
The season is unusually late, and peaches are thought to be well nigh out of danger.
It is well known that the Legislature of this State passed what is known as the "one acre bill," restricting planters to the cultivation in cotton of one acre for every hand between 16 and 65 years of age I am happy to notice, moreover, that the people are beginning to be thoroughly aroused to the necessity of strenuous efforts to feed our army.
The very idea of Lee's having to fall back for sustenance ap- palls them, and they are bringing out all the surplus provisions as well as pitching large crops.
General satisfaction seems to be felt that a Tax bill is at last passed.
I have passed a great deal of land in wheat.
It did not look well, but that seemed rather due to the thinness of the land than to any other cause.
At Charlotte I visited the "Navy-Yard."--It seems funny to find a Navy-Yard so far from any water.
But there it is — the machinery and the operatives having been removed from Portsmouth.
It is in full blast, too, and turning out engines of war that will carry death to many a blue coat.
I thought Winnsboro' the most pleasant little town I ever saw, as quiet as the country, its white villas embowered in trees, and the air fragrant with the perfume of countless flowers.
Like most of the towns in upper South Carolina, it is filled with refugees from Beaufort and Charleston, the town people having given up their houses to them and moved out to their plantations.
It was indeed touching to enter these dwellings, and we see the appointments which told at once of the wealth and refinement of the occupants, and that they had been rudely torn from their homes.
One lady, as she tendered her contribution to the soldiers, said: ‘"It is but a mite, but we lost seventy negroes, and I brought away only one trunk."’
I noticed in this town a monument, and asking my quiet, unlettered companion what it meant, he replied that it was for a teacher who had once taught there. "Such a teacher," said he, ‘"there never was. Everybody loved him, and he had a way that nobody could understand, of making the boys learn and be good.
He will never be forgotten here."’ I could not help thinking that teacher left a fragrant memory, and was as great a hero as many a soldier who has died gloriously on the bloody field, and that perhaps some of his lessons had been felt in this war by his old pupils, now actors in this stern drams.
There seems to be a great plenty of all good things here and in this region.
We are luxuriating in fresh butter, new-laid eggs, peas, potatoes, lettuce, and the like.
May it soon be so in Richmond.
I would say something of this leafy city, its noble Capitol, and iron palmetto tree, but presume it would all be an old story to most of your readers.
The Teachers' Convention meets here next Tuesday, and I will give any proceedings of interest, as well as any items I may pick up in my subsequent tour. Massanutten.
