St. Helenaville, January 8, 1865.
I have a great and troublesome commission for some of you. When H. gave me the one hundred dollars last fall, I instantly thought, “Now I can get my bell,” but afterwards I was afraid I might need funds to finish the inside of our school-house and so I deferred getting the bell. Now it is all finished nicely, everything we want complete, and we have had two days of delightful comfort in it. While Mr. Tomlinson is here, I can get the belfry put up free of charge, and properly attended to. He talks of going away soon, and has said he wished the bell, which I promised, had come. So I want you to buy me one.
Miss Ware has bought a bell for her school-house, and it came down in one of the Philbrick schooners. It rings already all over the island. She has also presented her school-house with an eight-day clock. Her bell is smaller than mine must be, for she calls only one plantation, and we five or six to school. They say it is exquisite in tone. There is great choice in bells of the same size and apparent quality; one will ring clearly and be heard at a great distance, while another will be soft and sweet and deep, but not resonant, and the sound will not travel far. A dollar a pound is the price, or was the price of Miss Ware’s. It will take at least a fifty-pound bell and may take a larger one. You had better ask how far such a bell carries sound. Ours should be heard three miles if possible. Miss Ware calculated that a twenty-five pound bell would be heard a mile and a half. Our children come from five and six miles, but I think no bell could be heard so far. I suppose that the wheel for ringing it comes with it — that and a rope would be necessary. Our building is one story high and raised on piles. We should want a rope to go through the floor and be pulled from beneath.
I think you can get a chance to send the bell by Mr. Winsor’s schooners, which are coming often for cotton. I had rather have freight paid on it than have it come by Mr. Philbrick’s favor. If it cannot come by schooner, I think the Philadelphia Committee would get the New York Committee to forward it.
Another great crowd of negroes has come from Sherman’s army. They are utterly wretched in circumstances — clothes all torn to rags; in some cases children naked. A steamboat load came to the village to-night, and they are crowded in the church and into all the people’s houses. It is astonishing with what open-hearted charity the people here — themselves refugees from Edisto two years ago — have received these newcomers right into their houses, and to that most jealously guarded place — their “chimbly.” A “chimbly” here is a man’s castle, and the privileges of this coveted convenience are held sacred. To lend a “chimbly” to a neighbor is to grant him a great favor, yet these people are welcomed to the “chimblys.” I asked our Brister if he found any friends among the refugees from Georgia. “All friends to-night,” he said, “but I hain’t found no family,” which means relatives.
Pierce Butler’s slaves have just arrived among this lot. We have no clothes to give these poor shivering creatures, and I never felt so helpless. Rina has on her biggest pot and I have just been putting in some of Mr. Wright’s tea, and Ellen and I are going to sally out and give each of the sick a cup of it to warm them up this cold, raw night. Very many come sick: indeed, nearly all are broken down with fatigue, privation of food, and bad air at night.
To-day General Saxton at church announced his intention to reoccupy Edisto pretty soon and fill it with these refugees. . . .
10.45 P.M.
Just returned from giving out the tea to the sick. Such a weary, sick, coughing set! I wish our church would send along some clothes. I have written to the Commission for some, and contributions to their boxes would do.
