Dividing these peaks and ranges with its shining cimetar, curves the river, overhung by precipitous crags. Far beneath you, as you look from the northern brow of the hill, ply the steamboats, breaking the surface into streaks of foam, and puffing white wreaths up into the clear, still air. Opposite, across the river, are clusters of high, wooded hills, with signal-stations on their peaks.

In the valley at the foot of Cameron, is Chattanooga, with its multitude of long, low, whitewashed wooden buildings, government store-houses, barracks, shops, rows of huts, and corrals, such as make haste always to spring up around an army's base of supplies. Surrounding the town are red earthworks, and hills of red earth with devious roads and paths winding over them.

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I found a strangely mixed population in Chattanooga, — traders, adventurers, soldiers, poor whites, refugees, and negroes. There were many Union men from the Cotton States, who had escaped into our lines during the war, and either could not or dared not return. Here is a sample of them, a lank, sallow, ragged individual with long black hair and wild beard, whose acquaintance I made in the streets. He was a shoemaker from Georgia. His Rebel neighbors had burned his house and shop, destroyed his tools, and forced him to flee for his life. He enlisted in our army, and had been fighting his daddy and two brothers.

"My daddy,” said he, "is as good a Rebel as you'll find. He has grieved himself nigh-about to death because he did n't gain his independence."

I asked him how his father would receive him if he should go back.

"I allow we should n't git along together no hack! The first question I'd ask him would be if he'd tuck the oath of allegiance. That would devil him to death. Then I'd ask him if he knowed whar his President Jeff was. Then he 'd jest let in to cussin' me. But I can't go back. The men that robbed me are jest as bad Rebels as ever, and they'd burn my house again, or give me a bullet from behind some bush."

FREEDMEN'S SCHOOLS.

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There was in Chattanooga a post-school for the children of poor whites and refugees. It numbered one hundred and fifty pupils of various ages,-young children, girls of fifteen and sixteen, one married woman, and boys that were almost men, all wofully ignorant. Scarcely any of them knew their letters when they entered the school. The big boys chewed tobacco, and the big girls "dipped." dipped." The mothers, when they came to talk with the teacher about their children, appeared with their nasty, snuffy sticks in their mouths: some chewed and spat like men. One complained that she was too poor to send her children to school; at the same time she was chewing up and spitting away more than the means needful for the purpose. Tobacco was a necessity of life; education wasn't. The tax upon pupils was very small, the school being mainly supported by what is called the "post-fund," accruing from taxes on sutlers, rents of buildings, and military fines. The post-school is usually designed for the children of soldiers; but Chattanooga being garrisoned by colored troops, their children attended the freedmen's schools.

The freedmen's schools were not in session at the time of my visit, owing to the small-pox then raging among the negro population; but I heard an excellent account of them. They numbered six hundred pupils. The teachers were furnished by the Western Freedmen's Aid Society and paid by the freedmen themselves. One dollar a month was charged for each scholar. “The colored people," said the school-superintendent, “are far more zealous in the cause of education than the whites. They will starve themselves, and go without clothes, in order to send their children to school."

Notwithstanding there were three thousand negroes in and around Chattanooga, Captain Lucas, of the Freedmen's Bureau, informed me that he was issuing no rations to them. All were finding some work to do, and supporting themselves. To those who applied for aid he gave certificates, requesting the Commissary to sell them rations at Government rates. He was helping them to make contracts, and sending them away to plantations at the rate of fifty or one hundred a

week. "These people," said he, "have been terribly slandered and abused. They are willing to go anywhere, if they are sure of work and kind treatment. Northern men have no difficulty in hiring them, but they have no confidence in their old masters." It was mostly to Northern men, leasing plantations in the Mississippi Valley, that the freedmen were hiring themselves. The usual rate of wages was not less than twelve nor more than sixteen dollars a month, for full hands.

The principal negro settlement was at Contraband, a village of huts on the north side of the river. Its affairs were administered by a colored president and council chosen from among the citizens. These were generally persons of dignity and shrewd sense. They constituted a court for the trial of minor offences, under the supervision of the Bureau. Their decisions, Captain Lucas informed me, were nearly always wise and just. "I have to interfere, sometimes, however, to mitigate the severity of the sentences." These men showed no prejudice in favor of their own color, but meted out a rugged and austere justice to all.

One afternoon I crossed the river to pay a visit to this little village. The huts, built by the negroes themselves, were of a similar character to those I had seen at Hampton, but they lacked the big wood-piles and stacks of corn, and the general air of thrift. Excepting the ravages of the small-pox, the community was in a good state of health. I found but one case of sickness, — that of an old negro suffering from a cold on his lungs, who told me there was nothing in the world he would n't give to "git shet of dis sher misery."

I entered several of these houses; in one of which I surprised a young couple courting by the fire, and withdrew precipitately, quite as much embarrassed as they were. In another I found a middle-aged woman patching clothes for her little boy, who was at play before the open door. Although it was a summerlike December day, there was a good fire in the fireplace. The hut was built of rails and mud; the chimney of sticks and sun-dried bricks, surmounted by a barrel. The roof was of

split slabs.

CONTRABAND VILLAGE.

253

There was a slab mantel-piece crowded with bottles and cans; a shelf in one corner loaded with buckets and pans; and another in the opposite corner devoted to plates, cups, and mugs. I noticed also in the room a table, a bed, a bunk, a cupboard, a broom without a handle, two stools, and a number of pegs on which clothing was hung. All this within a space not much more than a dozen feet square.

I asked the woman how her people were getting along. "Some are makin' it right shacklin'," she replied, "there 's so many of us here. A heap is workin', and a heap is lazin' around." Her husband was employed whenever he could get a job. "Sometimes he talks like he 'd hire out, then like he 'd sooner take land, — any way to git into work. All have to support themselves somehow."

She knew me for a Northern man. men! They've caused me to see ever see befo'e." Her husband was

"I'm proud of Northern a heap mo'e pleasure 'n I a good man, but she was

not at all enthusiastic about him. "I had one husband; I loved him! He belonged to a man that owned a power o' darkeys. He sold him away. It just broke my heart. But I could n't live without some man, no how; so I thought I might as well marry again." She regretted the closing of the schools. "My chap went a little, but not much."

"Are these your chickens?" "No, I can't raise chickens." It was the fault of her neighbors. "They just pick 'em up and steal 'em in a minute! Heap of our people will pick up, but they're sly. That comes from the way they was raised. I never stole in my life but from them that owned me. They'd work me all day, and never give me enough to eat, and I'd take what I could from 'em, and believe it was right."

Hearing martial music as I returned across the river, I went up on a hill east of the town and witnessed the dress-parade of the sixteenth colored regiment (Tennessee). I never saw a finer military display on a small scale. The drill was perfect. At the order, a thousand muskets came to a thousand shoulders with a single movement, or the butts struck the