_Dec. 27._ The children came up about half-past two o'clock on
Christmas afternoon [to see the tree], but being told not to come
until sunset they hung around outside the gate till Mr. Hall was ready
for them. About dusk they were all marshaled in by classes, and we all
helped distribute the presents. The children seemed struck aghast with
the brilliant sight, and when William Hall wished them all a Merry
Christmas, they threw up their hands and shouted with all their might.
It wasn't a cheer, but more like a yell, evidently in answer to his
good wishes. The presents were taken with the usual apathy shown on
such occasions, and as soon as they had time they began to compare
them with each other and some to complain how they didn't get enough.
Yesterday morning we made our preparations for Hunting Island. It was
a fine day, wind east, and rather warm. We had four negro oarsmen.
Seven white folks made up the load, including Mr. Eustis. We landed on
the Island just as G.'s boat did. After unloading our grub and firing
off our guns to dry them and let the deer know that we were coming, we
scattered about in various directions in search of game. I then went
to see the ruins of the lighthouse in the middle of the point, a few
rods from each beach. It was a brick structure and must have been over
one hundred feet high in order to overlook the pine trees about it.
There is nothing left now but a mass of brick and rubbish about forty
feet high, covering an acre of ground. It was blown up by the rebels
at the beginning of the war, and they did the work thoroughly. Great
blocks of granite and plates of iron lay bedded in between the masses
of brick-work, some of which are still coherent in masses, and several
feet in thickness. It is the first real ruin I ever saw in this
country. The keeper's house close by has been all torn to pieces by
the negroes for rebuilding their own cabins and corn-houses.
The next extracts tell of more raids for soldiers, fresh
despair, and renewed hope that they might at last be
stopped.