FOREWORD
I HAVE great pleasure in complying with the request that I should write a foreword for this excellent record.
My family left Charleston in 1895, when I was a boy of ten years of age, but even at that late stage of its decline it was still a cheerful little township with a resident doctor, a hospital of considerable size, four hotels, three churches, a dozen or so shops, a fair group of Shetlanders on the North Beach, and some thirty or forty other families in the vicinity. The arrival of Hanna's coach on its twice-weekly trip from Westport was an outstanding event in its life.
My most recent visit was at the beginning of last year when there remained of the town only one neglected church, the European Hotel, the Police Station, the school, and four small cottages. It was sad to see the deserted and desolate streets and the vacant sites, but I found that the locality, although scarred and defaced, still had a strong attraction. This, I think, was due to factors which one does not appreciate as a boy. The natural surroundings of the town are unusually attractive. One lives in sight and reach of the mountain ranges; alongside are the charming reaches of the Nile River. The scenery of the terraces, clothed with fern and shrubs, is varied and pleasing. To these are added a temperate climate, fine sandy beaches a stone's throw away, and bays of remarkable beauty enclosed in a picturesquely rock-bound coast, upon which the huge rollers from the South Pacific break unceasingly, with mighty power in the storms, and with endless surge and sound. It is not strange that such surroundings should gain so strong a hold on our memories and affections.
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