I passed the night at Mr. Avinger's, and very early in the morning departed for Eutaw, ten miles distant. I was now upon the Congaree road, and found the traveling somewhat heavier than upon ways less used. About three miles from winger's, I passed Burdell's plantation, where the American army encamped the night before the battle of Eutaw. It was another glorious morning, and at sunrise I was greeted with the whistle of the quail, the drum of the partridge, the sweet notes of the robin and blue-bird, and the querulous cadences of the cat-bird, all summer tenants of our Northern forests. They appeared each to carol a brief matin hymn at sunrise, and were silent the remainder of the day. I saw several mocking-birds, but they flitted about in silence, taking lessons, I suppose, from their Northern friends, to be sung during their absence.
"Winged mimic of the woods! thou motley fool!
Who shall thy gay buffoonery describe?
Thine ever ready notes of ridicule
Pursue thy fellows still with jest and gibe:
Wit, sophist, songster, Yorick of thy tribe,
Thou sportive satirist of Nature's school!"
Richard Henry Wilde.