“In our part of the State, none. Elsewhere I have heard of them. With us, the death of slavery is recognized, and made a basis of action by everybody. But we don’t believe that because the nigger is free he ought to be saucy; and we don’t mean to have any such nonsense as letting him vote. He’s helpless, and ignorant, and dependent, and the old masters will still control him.[16] I have never been a large slaveholder myself—for the last year or two I have had but twelve, little and big. Every one of them stays with me, just as before, excepting one, a carpenter. I told him he’d better go off and shift for himself. He comes back, every two or three nights, to tell me how he is getting along; and the other day he told me he hadn’t been able to collect anything for his work, and I gave him a quarter’s provisions to get started with.” “I had to give him,” he significantly added, “a sort of paper—not, of course, pretending to be legal—certifying that he was working for himself, with my consent, in order to enable him to get along without trouble.” There was a world of meaning in the phrase, “To enable him to get along without trouble,” though he was as free as the man that gave the paper. I asked what they would do with the negroes, if they got permission to re-organize. “Well, we want to have them industrious and orderly, and will do all we can to bring it about.” “Will you let any of them vote?” “That question has not been discussed. Nobody could stand up in the State who should advocate promiscuous negro suffrage. It is possible that a few might be willing to let the intelligent negroes vote—after some years, at any rate, if not now.” “I believe you let the sandhillers vote. Don’t you know that these disfranchised negroes of Charleston are infinitely their superiors, in education, industry, wealth and good conduct?” “Well, they’re pretty bad, it’s true—those sandhillers—but there isn’t the same prejudice against them.” * * * * * The moon lit up, with a softened effulgence, all the beauties, and hid all the scars of Charleston, as, late at night, I walked, through its desolate streets, and by its glorious shrubbery, to the landing, and hailed the “Wayanda.” A boat shot out of the shadow for me; and before I had joined the Doctor, below deck, the anchor had been hoisted and the vessel was under way. ----- Footnote 14: This man now holds an office under the National Government in South Carolina. Footnote 15: