It is a bright sunny day, with a cool fresh breeze blowing, not at all
the sort of weather we ought to have considering the season; instead of
the hot sun blazing and burning in vindication of its Southern
character, compelling us to creep along every inch of shade, and melting
us even then, it simply looks down upon us with a kind, genial eye,
occasionally winking and playing bo-peep with the woolly white clouds
which come sailing across the azure sky, and the balmy breath of the
wind is sufficiently cool to render our wraps not only comfortable but
absolutely necessary.
Before we have gone many steps on our way we come upon a pleasant party
of some half dozen negroes, sitting on a fence like a gathering of black
crows, each one whittling a stick and chewing tobacco in solemn
silence--not the silence of thought, but the silence of emptiness, their
great shining eyes staring at nothing, thinking of nothing, like lazy
cattle basking in the sunshine in supreme idleness.
On returning some hours later, we find them in exactly the same place,
whittling the same stick and chewing the same quid; they do not seem to
have stirred an inch. In odd nooks and corners, entangled in the ragged
edges of the city, we come upon similar groups, and I believe if we had
returned in six days instead of six hours we should have found them in
precisely the same condition.
The aspect Charleston presents at the first glance to the stranger’s eye
is impressive in the extreme; apart from the historical and romantic
interest which clings to the place, it has a character peculiarly its
own, and bears slight resemblance to any other city we have seen. It
seems to have stood still during the last century, and is strictly
conservative in its appearance and in its ways.
Quaintly tangled streets and alleys cling to the main
thoroughfares, running up and down, in and out, in a sort of
thread-my-grandmother’s-needle fashion; making a loop here, tying
themselves into knots there, and resolving themselves into a perfect
puzzle which the pedestrian has hard matter to piece together with his
weary feet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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