Accustomed as I had been, in Chicago and other large cities, to see a miscellaneous assortment of rags worn under the name of clothing, I was little prepared for the sight of the almost nude condition of the great mass of people, which came to my notice on first entering on the relief work of the Sea Island Sufferers. After a couple of days and nights spent in the clothing room in Beaufort, packing barrels and boxes for the Hilton Head District, we proceeded there and amid loud exclamations of "closen" had the freight hauled to our camp. Before an hour had passed we were besieged with applicants, but as our present supply was limited, we could only attend to a few of the worst cases, and these were told to come at ten o'clock the next morning. Having already procured the information regarding the families--ages, sex and number of children--we spent the time in putting into bundles suitable clothing for such as had been told to come. Fearful of being late, they began to assemble by daylight, and as each man or woman was seen emerging, "toting" the bundle, a hum of voices would assail the lucky one with "Bress de Lawd; what ye done get?" The experience with this first installment showed that some work must be expended on the clothing before distribution, to make it more serviceable. As the men were put to work in the ditches, so the women who were able to leave their families were called on for a week's work each in the sewing tents; a sewing machine was borrowed from one, and Miss Mary Clark (who was put in charge) assorted the garments, giving to some patching to do, to others buttons to sew on, to others apparently useless garments to make into children's clothing. When all got steadily to work, one would commence a patter song, the rest would quickly join in, and, to the accompanying rattle of the sewing machine, work and music blended. To hear them sing, one would hardly think they had just passed through a great calamity; but it was the calm which follows the storm--they knew their troubles were over, and they were going to get "kiverin" for the "chilluns." How they worked! Garment after garment was quickly mended, examined by Miss Clark for faults, and then placed in its proper barrel, ready for giving away. When all the clothing had been repaired, the list of needy ones was examined, and, as before, the _most needy_ told to come the next day. But the "most needy" generally included half the island, for telegrams never flew faster than did the news that clothes were going to be issued. Then, when the last garment had been issued, some happy, some dejected, they would go away to await the next issue. So week by week, a constant stream of barrels, boxes and bundles would be received, mended and given away to those who, many of them, hardly knew what a whole garment was. Occasionally one, more crafty than the rest, would try to excite extra sympathy by producing a goodly array of "motherless