We were only sorry that we could not see the usual sights along the Mississippi river to the same extent, as if we had left in the morning. But that was impossible, and I think mother and I had great reason to thank God that all things fitted in so well at the hour of our departure. It was the night and hour for the prayer-meeting at the A. M. E. Church—Wednesday night—with the good boat Columbia leaving at the same hour. In this crooked world it is a difficult thing to make all things work together just as we want them. We did indeed want to see our poor, oppressed race at work among the sugar-canes, the cotton and the rice, and the orange and fig-trees, and all the rest, which could only be done rightly by day. We did indeed see plenty of their humble quarters and cabins along the shores, and some little way back into the country, and knew them well by the lights in the windows. Alas, alas! for these poor, dear, miserable creatures! There they lay, no doubt, sound asleep—sleeping in the sleep of the oppressed—poor old men and women, laboring and toiling their lives away under a Southern sun, that oppressors may feast and riot at their expense. But there is a God in heaven, and we snuffled both war and freedom in the wind. Even a child could foresee all that. We retired early to bed. When were two women ever so happy on a New York boat on the Lower Mississippi? It was enough to make the angels laugh for joy, to think of it! Our departure was another installment in swelling the volume of Southern wrath to break up the Union, as the Fugitive Slave Bill would not work in their favor. Mother and I—murmuring our thanks to Almighty God—soon fell into a happy sleep, while the Columbia was ploughing her way down the Mississippi, and moving out at the mouth of one of the passes, as they are called, into the Gulf of Mexico. When we came back on deck next morning, the weather was most delightful. The water was intensely clear—indeed it was as clear as crystal! All things smacked of the Southern seas—of Southern people, and all things Southern. In due course of time the west end of the Isle of Cuba hove in sight, and soon the Columbia tied up in the harbor of Havana.