A PORTAGE TO LAKE WACCAMAW. - THE SUBMERGED SWAMPS. -
NIGHT AT A TURPENTINE DISTILLER - A DISMAL
WILDERNESS. - OWLS AND MISTLETOE. - CRACKERS AND NEGROES. -
ACROSS THE SOUTH CAROLINA LINE. - A CRACKER'S IDEA OF
HOSPITALITY. - POT BLUFF. - PEEDEE RIVER. - GEORGETOWN.
- WINYAH BAY. - THE RICE PLANTATIONS OF THE SANTEE
RIVERS. - A NIGHT WITH THE SANTEE NEGROES. - ARRIVAL
AT CHARLESTON.
To reach my next point of embarkation a
portage was necessary. Wilmington was
twelve miles distant, and I reached the railroad
station of that city with my canoe packed in a
bed of corn-husks, on a one-horse dray, in time
to take the evening train to Flemington, on Lake
Waccamaw. The polite general freight-agent,
Mr. A. Pope, allowed my canoe to be transported
in the passenger baggage-car, where, as it had
no covering, I was obliged to steady it during
the ride of thirty-two miles, to protect it from
the friction caused by the motion of the train.
Mr. Pope quietly telegraphed to the few families
at the lake, "Take care of the paper canoe;" so
when my destination was reached, kind voices
greeted me through the darkness and offered me
the hospitalities of Mrs. Brothers' home-like inn
at the Flemington Station. After Mr. Carroll had
conveyed the boat to his storehouse, we all sat
down to tea as sociably as though we were old
friends.
On the morrow we carried the Maria Theresa
on our shoulders to the little lake, out of which
the long and crooked river with its dark cypress
waters flowed to the sea.
