back doors. The panels would have given way, so we opened them. Such an awful sight! The hitherto deserted street filled with a throng of men, drunken, dancing, shouting, cursing wretches, every one bearing a tin torch or a blazing lightwood knot. The sky, so dark a half hour before, was already glowing with light, and flames were rising in every direction. We had no time to look at it, however; our own affairs took all our attention.

A crowd had burst in and, disregarding our remonstrances, spread themselves over everything, and from that time until morning a roaring stream of drunkards poured through the house, plundering and raging, and yet in a way curiously civil and abstaining from personal insult. Unhappily, they found plenty to plunder, for, although, as I have said, we had sent away our most valuable things (which we lost on the road), I had in charge a number of trunks belonging to friends of mine, which were in the house. These they fell upon, and tore to pieces. We had no plate except the teaspoons in Martha's pocket; but there were many things that attracted them-pretty things, pictures, china, and trinkets. They tore up the carpets, and took blankets and sheets. Men's clothes were in great demand, and dresses that they admired. One small man walked off in a blue silk dress, and holding a lace parasol over his head.

They took, too, what groceries they could find; but the rice did not give up its secrets, and many things lay hidden therein. Their effort was to spoil what they could not carry away; but we soon found our presence was a check upon them, and that encouraged us. When I say that they had a certain sort of civility, I mean in this way: My mother, who was a very courageous person, did not show any agitation in her manner, and suddenly a man turned upon her and said, "Old lady, why don't you look scared?" "Because I do not feel so,' she answered. He nodded at her approvingly, and made her a present of her own scissors, which she was very glad to get.

They generally spoke to us as "lady" and, although they swore horribly, they seldom swore at us. Then, too, if a number of men were fighting over a trunk or a closet, spoiling more than they stole, and I would go and stand by, not saying a word, but looking on, they would become quiet, would cease plundering, and would sometimes stop to tell me they were sorry for the women and children, but South Carolina must be destroyed. South Carolina and her sins was the burden of their song. They were all more or less excited by drink; but in the early part of the night it was not as bad as later on.

The glare of the burning town was awful, and I expected at every moment to be consumed. The servants behaved admirably, and repeatedly extinguished fires which had been set in the kitchen and outbuilding. We had to watch the sheds, for a man would snatch up a book, kindle its leaves at his torch, and throw it out of a window, and we should have been in flames many times if we had not got out at once on the piazza roof and extinguished the blaze. The worst danger was under the house, which was open, and stored with wood. To our horror, we saw two men kindling the pine. Why it did not blaze up I do not know; but it burnt slowly, and as soon as they went away I called the coachman, and he was able to put it out, and remained there on guard the rest of the night.

Our preservation came, I think, from their desire for plunder. To plunder first, and then burn, was their plan. So they did not set fire until they were leaving (they came in gangs), then they would throw a torch or handful of blazing paper into a closet, or behind a curtain, and go, and we generally had two or three minutes to fight the flames before the next set came in, and that saved us; but it was dreadfully fatiguing work.

About two o'clock in the morning, the house behind ours, and the one across the street, burnt down, and ours seemed in such danger that we took the four little children, whom we had kept in bed, and my mother took them across the street into the academy square, where many burnt-out people had taken refuge. Before this, the children had had a great fright, for some of the men had rushed up to their bed and, after pulling them about, had plunged their long knives repeatedly between them into their mattresses, to find if anything was secreted in it, thinking that the children were put there as a blind. So the poor little things went willingly enough.

By this time, it was very bad. The men who came were ruder and fiercer. We knew them for horsemen from their boots-I suppose Kilpatrick's men.

One of the servants came in and told us that he heard that General Blair had his headquarters at Mr. Wallace's, opposite the asylum, and that by sending there we might get a guard. It seemed the only chance, so my nurse volunteered to go, and Cassio (the servant) went with her. She was gone about an hour, and for that hour old Martha and I held the fort alone. It is no exaggeration to say that this was a terrible time. They assured us they meant to burn the house; "they had express orders from headquarters to burn it; we must go out at once." They tried to persuade Martha to leave me,

jeering and hooting at her for fighting for her slave owner, her nigger driver. But they only made the old woman furious, and she never stirred an inch from my side. Then they tried to terrify me; but by this time I was satisfied that they had orders not to hurt the woman, and, moreover, drunk or sober, every man in that army was acting under orders, and obeying them, so I told them that I had endured the whole night to save the house for my children, and that if they burnt it they would burn a woman in it. They stamped about and swore a great deal, but at last told me I was “damned plucky," and went. That was the worst.

Mary came back at last. General Blair was very sorry, but was too sleepy to do anything. However, a young Irish soldier whom she had met in the street volunteered as a compatriot to come back and help her for the sake of the "swate Irish tongue," and help he did, getting the next comers out as quickly as possible, and pretending to be a guard, although he had no bayonet to show. Some of the officers who were quartered in a house nearby looked in about this time, but said that, though they were sorry, they could do nothingthe night was the soldiers'; they could do what they liked, under orders. When the little Irishman appealed to them to allow him to help us, "for the ladies have had it hard enough anyhow," they told him to do the best he could, and walked off, absolutely indifferent.

However, morning was coming, and at reveille our little friend told us all must stop. He himself took nothing, but he had seen something upstairs that he would like very much to have; would I give it to him? He had just kept out about twenty ruffians, and I would have given him anything I owned, as I told him. He vanished for a little while, and reappeared in a purple velvet cloak and doublet, and white satin hose, an old fancy dress of Sir Walter Raleigh. He thought he looked lovely, and it was a small reward for all he had done for us.

As he said, at the first tap of reveille, the men still remaining made for the gate. When the drum had ceased, hardly one was to be seen. They passed away like ghosts at the cockcrowing. We stood on the steps and looked at a wild and woeful sight. The whole center of the town was a blackened heap. Ruined houses were on every side. For ourselves, we had escaped better than we could have hoped-we were all alive and well; after all our losses, much remained, and we knew how much could be borne.

For the three days that the army remained, we, in our devastated corner, saw nothing of interest. All was profoundly quiet. When the

immense column of men, cannon and baggage wagons filed past us, on its way to North Carolina, it seemed like a world in arms. Last of all came the mounted guard, looking into every house and yard to see if any straggler might be concealed there. But stragglers there were none, or few, for the admirable discipline of General Sherman's army cannot be too highly estimated. They greatly mistake who attribute the horrors of that night to accident or insubordination. The skilful commander held his men in the hollow of his hand, and said to them, "So far shalt thou go, and no farther."

HARRIOTT H. RAVENEL.
(MRS. ST. JULIEN RAVENEL.)

March 12, 1898.

The Sack of Columbia.

The Federal Army, under Sherman, lay just on the other side of the Congaree, and the bombarding went on steadily, without, however, doing much damage. Hampton, with a feeble force, was left in command of the defense of the capital, when General Joseph E. Johnston withdrew towards North Carolina. To the women and children of that doomed city things began to look gloomy in the extreme. Many refugees who had come from Charleston, and other parts of the low country, resumed their flight, seeking safety in the upper districts, nearer the mountains. Many residents of Columbia followed them; in fact, nearly all who could get away fled, leaving their household goods to the mercy of the invaders. Shells and cannon balls have voices of singular persuasiveness to induce noncombatants to "move on," and not many willingly keep reserved seats to listen to their music.

Never shall I forget a little incident that occurred on Thursday afternoon before the occupation on Friday morning. I was promenading the front piazza, listening to the dull boom of cannonry as it came, borne on the western breeze, from across the river, feeling all the horrors of the situation, when my attention was attracted to a ragged little darkey-one of the institutions of all Southern citiesas he went whistling quite unconcernedly on the opposite side of the street. Suddenly a bombshell came hurtling through the air, struck a limb just over his head, shivering it into a thousand pieces. Like lightning the little Arab rolled himself into an inconceivably small, black ball, crouching against the fence, with scarcely anything visible

but the whites of his eyes, which he turned in amazement towards the shattered limb. For one brief moment he lay there, then, springing up, he exclaimed, in accents of the most abject terror, "Fore God! I thought he had me!" and fled like the wind.

On Thursday night there was little sleep in the beleaguered city. I had dressed a day or two before for any emergency, and did not remove my dress for a week. I had taken an apron of strong Scotch ginghams, doubled it up and run casings in it, and into these casings stowed away important papers belonging to my husband, some money, and a few articles of jewelry. This I wore as a bustle, and was undisturbed in its possession. Others were not so fortunate. Many had their clothing torn off and their persons searched by the lawless soldiery and the mob who reaped such a harvest on that fearful night of February 17, 1865.

On Friday morning, while we were at breakfast, a sound of musketry broke the ominous stillness, and we learned that the Yankees had crossed the river on pontoon bridges, and that the city was virtually in their hands. The mayor and some of the chief municipal officers had gone to General Sherman's headquarters and surrendered our beautiful capital, and received from him the comforting assurance that Columbia should be as safe as it had been under Mayor Goodwyn's own administration. "Some of the public buildings, such as the arsenal and armory, will have to be destroyed," said Sherman; "but I will select a calm day for the purpose, and nothing else shall be injured. Go home and sleep in peace, Mr. Mayor; your city shall be safe." How well he kept this promise, let Columbia's burning homes, her desolate streets, and her houseless, starving children, tell.

I hope but few of my readers know from experience what the sacking of a city is. I hope fewer still may ever know. Columbia had foes without and within, for though the slave population had behaved well during the war, it was but human nature, when freedom came to them so suddenly, that they should receive it extravagantly, and go with outstretched arms to welcome their deliverers. I heard of some of these deluded people who actually knelt in the street before the incoming troops, like the heathen throwing himself before the car of Juggernaut, for the wheels to roll over him. Well, the wheels did roll over many of them. Of the thousands who left Georgia and the Carolinas to follow the fateful fortunes of the Yankee Army, few reached Virginia, and fewer still returned to their old homes, which they sighed for when too late.