My travels in the interior of the South in the summer and fall of 1865
took me over the track of Sherman's march, which, in South Carolina at
least, looked for many miles like a broad black streak of ruin and
desolation--fences gone, lonesome smoke-stacks, surrounded by dark
heaps of ashes and cinders, marking the spots where human habitations
had stood, the fields along the road wildly overgrown by weeds, with
here and there a sickly-looking patch of cotton or corn cultivated by
negro squatters. In the city of Columbia, the political capital of the
State, I found a thin fringe of houses encircling a confused mass of
charred ruins of dwellings and business buildings which had been
destroyed by a sweeping conflagration.

No part of the South I then visited had, indeed, suffered as much from
the ravages of the war as South Carolina--the State which was looked
upon by the Northern soldier as the principal instigator of the whole
mischief and therefore deserving of special punishment. But even those
regions which had been touched but little or not at all by military
operations were laboring under dire distress. The Confederate money in
the hands of the Southern people, paper money signed by the
Confederate government without any security behind it, had by the
collapse of the Confederacy become entirely worthless. Only a few
individuals of more or less wealth had been fortunate enough to save,
and to keep throughout the war, small hoards of gold and silver, which
in the aggregate amounted to little. Immediately after the close of
the war the people may be said to have been substantially without a
"circulating medium" to serve in the transaction of ordinary business.
United States money came in to fill the vacuum, but it could not be
had for nothing; it could be obtained only by selling something for
it, in the shape of goods or of labor. The Southern people, having