HUNT TEMPLETON was seated in a comfortable rocker, with his feet upon the fender. His countenance, as he looked into the fire, would convey a favorable impression, presenting a fine profile of the Jewish type, inherited from his mother; but, as he turned, an upward glance betrayed a dark, sinister expression lurking under shaggy eyebrows, which would change a stranger's first opinion, and cause a man, with whom he might have business dealings, to question his integrity.

His wife was knitting upon a fast lengthening stocking without appearing to observe its existence. She wore a dark linsey dress, and a long, full gingham apron tied round the waist; her face was hard, and the motion of her jaws indicated a devotion to the habit of gum-chewing. Dropping her knitting into a basket, she withdrew the gum from her mouth, stored it in her pocket for future use, and skillfully ejecting a mouthful of saliva across the fire, addressed her husband, while she resumed her knitting:

“I don't see w'at for you sold Joe and 'Titia together, I told you the last thing for to be sure and put one in one place, and t'other some 'eres else.”

“You need borrow no trouble on that score, old girl; I reckon they are both in Tophet by this time, for I sold 'em to Satan, or one of his colleagues. The captain of the ‘Wildfire’ said he had knowed him ever since he has been a tradin' 'long the coast. He is a runaway convict, and never shows himself away from his hut. There is a man in Jacksonville who sometimes sends him supplies under an alias; with this exception, and an occasional sailing vessel stopping there, he has no communication with the world. I did not get much money for the nigs, but I thought I could not get shed of 'em in a safer place.”

“You may be right; but,” lowering her voice to a whisper, and glancing around the room to assure herself that no other person was present, “do you really suppose either of 'em knowed about the will?”

At this question, Mr. Templeton contracted the muscles of the forehead till his scalp approached his eyebrows, as if Satan betrayed the guiding of his heart by disfiguring his face, and answered,

“I don't care whether they know it or not, now; I made a sure thing in getting the place cl'ar on 'em. Brother James trusted every thing to Joe. I know there were two copies of the will. One is safe, I bet; the other James had hidden away some'ers, and I charged you to make thorough hunt for it at the farm.”

“Yes; didn't I spend three days a huntin', when Sary Ann was down o' the fevers? I searched every nook and corner, and nary will is there, that is certain,” insisted Mrs. Templeton, holding her stocking near the candle to see the last stitches as she “toed it off.” “I don't see what has become of it, unless it was sent to Mary, or the boys, for safety.”

“I don't think it was, because James told me he didn't want the boys to know he had so much bank stock laid by. You see there are seventy-five thousand in the Planter's Bank, with the interest piling on for three years; and, if the boys knowed it, James thought it would spile 'em.”

“Suppose the boys come on, and find out how it is.”

“I fixed that. I got 'Squire Munser to write that their father was dead, and they had best remain where they are, or they would be taken and sold if they return. The children, all having been born in slavery, could not claim the estate without the will. 'Squire Munser wrote to Mary that she could get nothing; so I think we shall have no trouble from any of them. But one thing is sure, Sue Templeton, it has taken a mighty sight of figurin' and thinkin' to fix this all up for our side; and 'Squire Munser wants an awful pile of money to fetch it out right for us.”

“Well, I reckon he'll not get more'n honest pay.”

“'Squire Munser is not the man to undertake a job like this without big pay, and he told me so. There is no ‘whipping the devil 'round the stump’ with him. I had to sign a paper, making over to him one-half the proceeds of the sale of the tradin' vessels, and ten thousand out of the bank stock. It is bad; but there is no backin' out.”

So greedy was this man over ill-gotten means, that he shrank from sharing the booty with him, by whose art and labor only it could be grasped; while the lawyer, knowing well his client, was careful enough to possess himself of a liberal share of dishonest money for dishonest work.

The Templeton family, having suddenly become the holders of so considerable a fortune, the next step was to decide how to use it. Their hitherto limited income, derived from the profits of a small stock of groceries, had demanded strict economy to provide all with the comforts of life, and left little for its luxuries. The two oldest sons had been necessarily deprived of school privileges; for, as soon as they were old enough, they had been obliged to aid in the sale of their father's wares; and the elder daughters were equally useful in domestic duties. It was resolved that they must now be sent to boarding schools, and servants employed to take their place in all labor. The grocery was disposed of, as well as the furniture of their humble home; while, at the farm, reconstruction and reorganization were accomplishing wonders. Under the supervision of an architect, painters and carpenters made the plain, comfortable farm house of James Templeton lose its identity in a Gothic villa. New carpets and new furniture came in as a necessity. Parents as well as children, were bewildered at the novelty of a home with such surroundings, and knew not how to manage unaccustomed acquisitions.

“See here, ma;” said young John, a boy of ten years, “pa says you have bought six brocatelle chairs for the parlor. What is brocatelle, ma?”

“Don't expose your ignorance, boy; it is French for thirty dollars apiece; one would think you had never seen furniture before.”

“Well, I never did see sich as this 'ere. And what's this thing for, all wadded like a pin-cushion?” throwing himself down, with his muddy boots elevated upon the polished veneering.

“That 'ere is a sociable. You, John, git off o' thar; see how you've scratched it. I'll show you what this is.” Stooping down, she took off her slipper, and briskly exercised it about the boy's ears, who made a speedy retreat.

Among the servants an entire change of system had replaced the former order of things. Dinah had tucked away her five little ones, some in the trundle-bed (in which during happy days, now passed away, her dear “ole missus” had watched and cared for her own four darlings), some in the “big bed,” and on her lap lay asleep her sixth child, a babe, born since the exile of its father, Joe. Nellie, a fellow-servant, was sitting near, trying, by the light of a rag, sputtering in the side of a “grease cup,” to make a garment for herself.

“I's been tryin', Aunt Dinah, to find out w'ere at Maus Hunt took Miss 'Titia an' Joe. Steve, you know Steve, he druv the carriage that day, an' he says as how he tuck 'em down to a sailin' vessel.”

“W'ere at was the vessel gwine?” inquired Dinah.

“Steve, he said he din'no nuffin' 'bout dat; but he 'spects dat dey war gwine to Georgy.”

“De Lord help us! my Joe gone to Georgy!”

“W'at fur, Aunt Dinah, is you been dar? W'at fur a place is Georgy?”

Dinah shook her head, took her babe, which had fallen asleep, laid it in the bed, as carefully tucking it in as if it had been the nursling of a free mother, and, taking an old split-bottomed chair, leaned back till it rested against the wall. Setting her feet upon a round, she said: “Nellie, did you never hear tell of Georgy? It's a big jail—bigger'n dis plantation—w'ere dey puts de blacks w'at don't 'bey orders. It's got a suller, an' a down sta'rs, an' a up sta'rs, an' dar ain't no winders; it's all like a mill w'ere dey grin' sugar cane an' pick cotton. Dey have to work all day an' all night, ebery day han' runnin', wid chains 'round dar legs. An' Nellie, if Maus Hunt's gone and tuck my Joe an' Miss 'Titia dar, de Lord'll pay him off, sure. Dar nebber was a better boy nor my Joe; an' as to Miss 'Titia, she's an angel, jes like 'er 'ma was 'fore her.”

“Dar's a heap o' comfort, Aunt Dinah, in trustin' in de Lord; dar's no oder holt to hang by.”

“Look a' dis yere Missus; she allus done 'er own cookin', an' now she 'lows I can do all de cookin' fur de house, an' all de han's, 'side lookin' after de chillen. Nora, she' ten year ole Christmas, an' helps a heap 'bout nussin' de baby; now Missus, she says, ‘Nora must wait in de house, an’ let Carline nuss de baby,' an' she's so little.”

A knock at the kitchen door; and without waiting for an invitation, Terence, a field hand entered: “Skuse me, Aunt Dinah, I comes in fur ter light my pipe. W'ats you an' Miss Nellie consolodatin' 'bout; you looks so solemn like?”

“I reckon w'es a right to be solemn, Terence, wi' Joe an' Miss 'Titia sold to Georgy.”

“Don't say so. Dat's business in de navy. Wonder what all's Maus Hunt sold 'em to Georgy for? But you orter see how him an' dis 'ere oberseer bosses; gettin' us up 'fore day, an' workin' us like mules. No more Saturday evenin's to make shuck mats, nor baskets, nor nuffin'; but work on de place. Dat's all we's made for, I reckon he thinks.”

Mr. Templeton, in taking up the thread of his brother's business, found that it did not glide smoothly through his own hands, but became sadly entangled.

Coming in one evening, in a disturbed state of mind, he said to his wife: “There's 'Squire Munser has had a man in tow who wanted to buy out the whole line of trading vessels. 'Squire says he has backed out, and will not buy. I've done my best to keep in with the agents, but somehow there is nothing coming in from them. Here I am kept running one way and another, and it is my opinion they are keeping me blindfolded, pullin' an' grabbin' in all directions; the more I reach and grasp, finding nothing, the more these agents chuckle, and, in my opinion, pocket the profits. I must set out for Charleston to-night.”

His scalp, like a storm-cloud, lowered; and the flash of his eyes was too well understood by Mrs. Templeton to attempt the use of any soothing influence.

Stepping out to the back porch, he raised his voice in a prolonged “Ho-o-o, Terence! Ho-o-o, Terence!”

That individual presenting himself at a cabin door, his master proceeded, “Saddle Daisy for me, and get on one of the work horses to bring her back. Right off; do you hear?”

Instead of obeying, Terence walked toward the house, “Yes, Massa; but Daisy's mighty bad, sir; I 'spects you'd better take Prince, sir.”

“What's the matter now?”

“She got cast in the stable, sir; an' her foot's mighty bad, sir.”

At this, Terence was made the victim of a torrent of invectives; curses of the entire African race were centred upon him; not because he had been guilty of any offense, but chance had thrown him in the path to receive pent up wrath from an irritated master. Having exhausted his supply of censures, he added:

“Tell Harry to put my saddle on Prince, and get ready to go with me to the river to bring him back; take care of that mare, and, if I lose her, you get fifty lashes; do you hear?”

TWO American students were busy in their lodgings, endeavoring to restore order out of confusion. Books that would not again be wanted were laid aside for the second-hand dealer, and others carefully packed away for future use; clothing was subjected to the same inspection, and an accumulation of papers and articles, rejected as useless, were ready for removal.

James Templeton had just received his degree as Doctor of Medicine, and his brother Oscar had completed the third year in the classical department of the same institution.

Their father had determined that if any opprobrium rested upon the birth of his children, it should be wiped out by educational advantages and an ample fortune. For this end he had labored unceasingly. Superior business qualifications enabled him to carry out his plans as long as life lasted. Both the sons had been sent to Germany, and placed in a university well known for its able corps of professors. Oscar was to remain one year longer to complete his course of study in the classical department; and, that the brothers might return together, it had been arranged that James should improve the intervening time at various European hospitals, further qualifying himself for the practice of his profession in some place yet to be selected in his native country.

The last letter from their father contained a remittance double their usual quarterly allowance, that they might be enabled to recreate during the vacation, among the mountains and lakes of Switzerland; “For,” wrote Capt. Templeton, “when another year has passed, I want to see both of you without delay.”

For this trip the brothers were making preparations, when a letter was received causing them to drop their work—a letter containing intelligence that turned the current of their lives as effectually as a mountain, meeting a coming stream, turns its course in another direction. Enclosed was a certified statement of the brief illness and decease of Capt. James Templeton, signed by the attendant physician, also a communication in the following words:

Conflicting emotions excited the minds of the brothers. Grief at their loss, disappointment at not being able to accomplish their well-laid plans, and mental questioning as to what should be done, for a few moments caused them to look at each other in silence. Oscar stood holding the letter in his hand, and was the first to speak.

“What does this mean? Does this man presume to affirm that we, with our sisters, are not heirs to our father's estate? I would like to face him with the certificate of our parents' marriage, which mother was always so careful should be preserved. How does he dare to impugn father's honor, and disown us? Liar that he is, I will have him prove that Hunt Templeton is heir to my father's estate.”

James Templeton, more self-possessed than his impetuous brother, approached and addressed him by the title he had always used since early childhood, “Little Buddie, the books tell us that law is founded upon justice, and executed for the preservation of social and moral rights; but wise men make law sometimes bend and adapt itself to existing customs, rather than change an existing custom for the sake of justice. Perhaps you do not fully understand the history of our parentage, as we rarely refer to it. Father found mother, a beautiful quadroon, in the New Orleans slave market, and bought her with the intention of making her his wife. The marriage ceremony was performed in New Orleans, and he brought her to Virginia. The certificate is still, I suppose, in sister Mary's possession. The laws of the slave states do not legalize marriage between master and servant, nor indeed between slaves themselves.”

“I see,” replied Oscar; “but father certainly gave mother her freedom.”

“Free,” said James, “in every regard, as any lady born in freedom, in exercising her own will and pleasure, beloved and honored by our father, but she was never emancipated according to the laws of Virginia; and, were she living, would be entitled to inherit none of his property except it had been given her in his will. Emancipation papers were made out for sister Mary, as well as ourselves, at mother's earnest solicitation, as each of us severally left home to attend school.”

“Do I understand, brother James, that the marriage certificate is null and void?”

“The certificate is evidence of a marriage in the sight of heaven, and doubtless would be recognized as such in Europe, and in every free state of our own country; but not in the state where it was executed, or where they subsequently resided.”

“Suppose,” continued Oscar, “father had given mother her freedom previous to their marriage.”

“Then it would have done away with the question of our bondage,” said James; “and I adhere to the principle yet, brother, ‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.’ I claim that no man, nor body of men, have a right to abrogate God's commands. Such a law as you speak of is unconstitutional, and God will overthrow it. Hunt Templeton will rue the day he deprived us of our inheritance, by taking advantage of an unconstitutional law.”

“And yet,” said James, “Hunt Templeton is not the sole author of our trouble. ‘The transgressions of fathers are visited upon children of the third and fourth generations.’ We are those representatives, and rest under the curse. Our father's half-brother supposes we are yet children, and require advice. We must certainly change our plans, and in a day or two decide what steps are to be taken. There is little sister Letitia; we must look after her, at least, and not leave her in the clutches of this villain. Thanks to father's generosity, we can battle for ourselves and for her also.”

“You are well able to command a good position,” said Oscar, “and I must find something to do. Instead of traveling through Switzerland, we must secure passage on the first steamer and return to our native land.”

“Yes, that will be our first move,” said James. “Sister Mary has doubtless received duplicates of these documents before this, and will be anxious to hear from us. We must write this evening and send by the English mail, so that a letter will notify her of our coming. With no prospect of another remittance, we must husband our means and add to it a trifle by the sale of these books and all articles that we shall not now require.”

Several days passed, which the brothers industriously employed in surmises regarding affairs at Temple Vale, and in speculations for the future, while their hands were as busily employed in making preparations to leave Germany and return to America with but little baggage.

Oscar was in favor of advancing to the point at once, to demand justice at the hands of Mr. Templeton.

“That would never do,” replied James. “We could gain nothing by so doing; the sum of money we have in our possession would be exhausted, and we should be powerless in accomplishing the desired end. We must fortify ourselves for a conflict before rushing into it.”

Three months had barely passed by since Captain Templeton had gone to his final rest, when his two sons stood on the threshold of their sister's home, a pretty cottage in the suburbs of a manufacturing town in Connecticut. Their arrival was anticipated, as the letter announcing their intention had been received a week or two previous, and a heartfelt welcome awaited them.

Mr. and Mrs. Blue were comfortably provided for by her father, who had bought and furnished their home, and purchased a considerable share in a business house, where Mr. Blue had, at the time of his marriage, been employed. The young men were not kept long waiting, for Mrs. Blue opened the door herself; and once more they felt the force of a sister's love in her cordial reception. They talked over the happy days of childhood in Virginia; of their indulgent parents, both gone; and the question arose and remained unanswered, “Where is little sister Letitia?”

“Esquire Munser wrote,” said Mrs. Blue, announcing father's death very much in the same manner to myself as he did to you, except that he varied the tone of the last clause, knowing that I had been legally freed. I remember hearing father speak of making a will. I wonder if he ever did; although, if he did, it is not likely he would have remembered me in it, as he had already been so liberal, and probably considered that I had received my portion.”

“It has been so many years since we were at home,” said James, “except during vacations, and the three last years have been spent entirely in Germany—that the most of our knowledge of father has been through the mails; but he was always so demonstrative in his regard, and so liberal in providing for us, that I should think he would have been thoughtful for the future, especially as his health was so precarious; but it is vain to speculate, we must take the facts as they really exist.”

“You are very well settled, sister Mary, and as to brother James, I am sure he has battled enough through books, lectures, experiments, surgical operations, and I know not what more, to be able to put up his name as a practitioner, and profess to earn a living by attending to suffering humanity. I have been studying over what I can do for myself, but my plans being frustrated, it will not be so easy to find business adapted to my capabilities. Have you received any letters from Virginia, sister?”

“Not one. Immediately after receiving Esquire Munser's letter, I wrote to a friend in G—, inquiring about sister, as it seemed so strange she had not written. The reply was that Letitia had not been in town since the funeral. I have written twice since, but received no answer.”

The brothers found many of their old schoolmates, visited places of interest near Mr. Blue's residence, and formed new acquaintances. James was introduced to the fraternity of medical men, and looked about for an opening where he could find employment.

At a meeting of the profession in New Haven, he made the acquaintance of an old graduate at Heidelburg, Dr. Weis, who had for many years been located at N—, where he had gained an extensive practice. As may be supposed, the old doctor lived his college days over again in recalling old associations, and insisted that James should accompany him to his home for a good long talk about Heidleburg.

A visit of two or three days extended to as many weeks, and found James still at N—. A patient under the care of Dr. Weis required surgical treatment, and James proved so valuable an assistant, that he could not be permitted to leave. Indeed, the longer time wore on, the more did Dr. Weis feel that his practice was more than he could attend to in his advancing years, and he made a proposition to James to enter into partnership with him.

“You will have to do the young man's part of the work,” said the doctor, “for going out at all hours of the night is not the way to cure rheumatism. There are a great many visits you can make to give me rest, to say nothing of the new hooks and crooks you have learned.”

So the matter was settled, and James learned to know his title as “Dr. Templeton,” and brought into use the knowledge he had obtained.

“You are just the man I have wanted for the past two years,” said Dr. Weis, “and you need make no other arrangements for the future, but to remain with me.”

“I would like,” suggested James, “to take a few days furlough, to attend to some business in Virginia, before I become absorbed here.”

Dr. Weis shook his head. “Ah! no; I can not spare you now. Your brother can be deputized to attend to your affairs; let him go.”

Dr. Templeton had not forgotten his younger sister, and he was desirous, now that he felt permanently engaged in business, to endeaver to find some trace of her by visiting the old home. After well weighing the subject, he concluded it was best to let his brother undertake the errand, and wrote to him to do so.

A BROAD veranda, extending across the entire front, was an important adjunct to the tavern at G—. Split-bottomed chairs, left at a convenient distance to allow of a tilt back against the wall, offered the villagers a shaded rest from the summer's heat, or protection from the shower. It was a lounging place where all received a hospitable welcome.

A back-gammon board, or pack of cards, was at hand when conversation flagged, and they were frequently brought into use. The doctor could generally be found here when his services were required, as well as the lawyer; also the storekeeper, who selected a position commanding a view of his warehouse, lest a customer should enter unnoticed. The planter, when in the village for supplies, found it a convenient rendezvous while his horse was being cared for. It afforded, besides, a comfortable half-way place, where he who would not at once walk boldly in and ask for a glass of whisky, could linger, and gradually appease his conscience before entering the bar-room to throw down his “bit” and swallow a potion.

WHEN a young man steps out into the world to earn a maintenance, and to build for himself a position where he will be estimated according to moral worth, perseverance in accomplishing a desired end, or success in financiering, it is an important era in his life. If fortified by judicious preparatory training of mind and manners, sustained by relatives and friends with advice and capital, the road to success is widened; but errors in judgment may overthrow the best laid plans. A vigorous will-power and indomitable perseverance may accomplish more than wealth, friends, or personal influence; but it means work, deprivation, crosses and rebuffs; it means unflagging industry and energy until the goal is reached.

How is it with woman when she crosses the threshold of home, when she separates herself from its protection, and goes out with the same object in view?

The timidity characterizing her sex induces her to shrink from the ordeal, unless impelled by some great incentive. If it is poverty, society accepts her apology, and encourages her with the same aid, mingled with pity, that is bestowed upon an unfortunate object of charity; while more favored sisters thank their own good fortunes that they are exempt. If ambition, or superior mental attainments cause woman to extend her sphere beyond her own circle, she may, under certain circumstances, unfurl her own standard and sustain it, and the world will be better or worse for her having lived in it.

Whether Grace Lintner was actuated by necessity or ambition, or whether she was in search of novelty for her own self-gratification, it matters not to the reader; we introduce her as she sits upon the deck of the steamship “Alabama,” bound for the port of Savannah. She looks into the sea, watches the huge waves rolling and dashing unceasingly in ever-changing light and shadow, feeling that, literally as well as figuratively, she is embarking upon the sea of life, trusting to the ark of safety that she will be borne upon its bosom, whether peaceful or turbulent, to the haven whither she is bound.

Upon arriving in Georgia she was led to enjoy the contrast between the snow-clad hills of New England, to which she had bidden “adieu” a few days previous, and the mild atmosphere of a hitherto untried latitude. Shade trees were clothed in verdure, flowers were blooming, and many new varieties called forth both wonder and admiration. The few days of her stay were terminated by the announcement that the steamboat was ready, which was to convey her to the journey's end.

GRACE LINTNER anxiously looked forward to Saturday, when the weekly mail was brought from the county seat to a little store a mile beyond the school house.

John, being exempt from other duties that day, set out with a calico bag over his shoulders, leaving the teacher anxiously waiting till he should return with expected letters. Two hours rolled on and no John could be seen—one, two more, and still no sound of John's whistle could be heard through the woods. Except Miss Lintner, no one seemed to care whether he came or not, or even to remember that it was mail-day.

Absent from home, how she longed for tidings from the dear ones there. Tired of delay, she followed the course he had taken, as if to expedite his footsteps. Wandering through a forest of gigantic pines, one may believe that he is in a cathedral of God's architecture. Immense colonnades of pillars extend into the distance far upward; tufts of foliage fresco the ceiling of heaven's own blue; wild flowers decorate the pavement; a choir of birds keep harmony with the winds as they harp through the wiry pine foliage, and chant, seldom disturbed by the footfall or voice of man.

Here, upon the trunk of a prostrate tree lay John, wrapt in deep sleep. On the ground was the mail-bag, and its precious contents.

Seating herself by the sleeping boy, she found several letters that brought news of the busy life at home, remembrances of friends; and one, bearing a foreign postmark, twice re-mailed, had reached her in that wild spot.

There she sat, thinking of the dear ones so far away, till lengthening shadows reminded her that she was in the woods alone, with nobody but John, and he was nobody. Yet John was something if not somebody, for that morning he had replied to a fellow-servant: “You says I's no 'count, does you? I reckon I is some 'count. Didn't you hear massa say I's wuf five hunner dollar? I reckon five hunner dollars some 'count.” So valuable a commodity must be cared for. Arousing him, she proceeded toward Mulberry Grove.

In densely populated communities, where individuals are in constant intercourse with each other, we find the masses “measuring themselves by themselves,” to a greater or less degree; stronger minds take the lead and weaker ones follow in the train; men think as others think, work as others work, and dress as others dress. Custom regulates the hours for rising, eating and retiring. Fashion cuts the patterns, and the majority employ tailors and dressmakers to make them look as others do. What Mrs. Grundy says has far more influence over the gay world than the antiquated law of Moses. But where men live isolated from society, uninfluenced by what others may say or think, they are more independent in their views, and are more apt to form their own standard of propriety or moral obligation. If deep thinkers and close readers, they are likely to set aside the opinions of others, and establish their own theories, whether in philosophy, theology, or any other subject which may arrest their attention.

George Ninus was one of this class. Left an orphan at an early age, when only seventeen he married, having already devolving upon him the care of a sister, two younger brothers, a large plantation, and numerous slaves.

Physically and mentally matured, he was not a boy, but a man, better qualified for his duties than many ten years his senior. When Grace Lintner entered his family he was thirty-three. His sister and brothers had received such advantages of education as could be obtained at a respectable boarding school in a neighboring district, and were well settled near, on rice and cotton plantations. The slaves had been divided into four lots, and distributed among the heirs. By economy and good management, this elder brother had bought the claims to the old estate from his sister and younger brothers.

His library was stored with valuable authentic histories and standard works. He never hesitated purchasing a book on account of its high price; while clothing, household conveniences, and the store house were provided for with rigid economy, and confined to such articles as were absolutely necessary. He would argue “Mind is immortal, it must be nourished, cultivated, improved and perfected; but the body is perishable; to deck it with finery, or pamper it with dainties, betokens the ignorance of savages or the effeminacy of weak minds.” He willingly paid a liberal salary for the services of a well educated governess, and bought everything his children required for their mental improvement; but luxuries were as foreign to his own abode as to the cabins of his bond-servants. In the library, and with her sketch book, Miss Lintner passed many a leisure hour. Birds, butterflies, insects of various kinds were portrayed by her skillful hand, in water colors. Wild flowers in endless variety, found in her rambles, were collected, analyzed and pressed for an herbarium. Although the scenery presented little to admire as a landscape, there was many a gem in the tangled wilderness, and many a spot of beauty worthy of being preserved in memory by her pencil. So wonderful appeared these productions in the estimation of the children, that they also sought subjects for her handiwork, and were delighted to be permitted to draw and paint for themselves.

Amongst the servants who had been recently added to the family at Mulberry Grove was a waitress named Letitia. Miss Lintner had frequently observed, that while occupied in the many duties required, Letitia manifested intelligence far superior to that of other servants. Unlike the negro dialect, her language was pure and correct, and every movement graceful. With golden hair, slightly wavy, and inclined to detach itself into ringlets, blue eyes and delicately modeled features, a yellow tint in the complexion was the only betrayal of African blood.

It was not long before Letitia begged the privilege of bringing in her bed, and sleeping in the room with Miss Lintner. Feeling lonely in her side of the house, the governess was glad to accede to the request and obtained the consent of Mrs. Ninus. A blanket and shuck pillow composed the entire bedding, which was easily brought in and conveyed away. During the day it was tucked out of sight in a corner of the kitchen, or spread for ventilation upon a fence. Being laid upon the uncarpeted floor it served to rest the tired girl, who was called early and employed till late at night.

As lady and bond-servant a barrier existed between the two; as girls of the same age, removed from early ties and associations, each without a sympathizing friend, in the quietude of their room, the barrier vanished; and, little by little, they came to confide in each other. Miss Lintner told of her early home and of fond dreams for the future. Letitia related her history.

“MY father was Capt. James Templeton. He owned a line of trading vessels running from Norfolk, Virginia, to Charleston and Jamaica. The estate where we were all born and lived was above Norfolk, not many miles from the James river. It was a dear home, and, under the superintendence of mother, with her overseer, we had an abundance of everything to make us happy and comfortable, for father was at home so little during my childhood that the management of the place devolved upon mother. Sometimes it seems so much like a dream to me that I do not like to think how happy we were then. Father owned all our workhands and house-servants; and mother often told me that she had been a slave and was bought by father at the market in New Orleans on account of her beauty. And she was beautiful, for I well remember her features; her eyes and hair were black, her cheeks red as roses, although her skin was like that of a light mulatto. None of us inherited her face, but father's. He had light hair, blue eyes, and, but for exposure to the sun, would have been very fair.”

“My shoes were in a sad condition, having been worn out previous to our night's walk. They were so badly torn as to afford but little protection to my feet. Joe discovered some bear grass, and ingeniously plaited the tough blades, forming moccasins; they were clumsy indeed, but I could walk in them with ease. As a cool breeze sprung up toward night we concluded to follow the sun once more, and did not rest until somewhere near midnight. Being attracted by a light, we approached and discovered a camp-fire burning near a cabin, where two or three persons were engaged in cooking. We also discovered a large unenclosed patch of sweet potatoes, and running his hand along in the hills, Uncle Joe procured some for food. Had we made ourselves known in offering to pay for them, very likely it would have led to our capture. There were a great many ponds where we could procure water, such as it was.

“On we traveled several days, through an almost uninhabited country, only two or three times passing clearings where we found sweet potatoes; at other times I shot a bird or some other game.

FEBRUARY enveloped the peach orchard in rose-colored beauty, filled the jasmine with bloom, and crowned the wilderness with charms.

The branch was not a running, murmuring brook, but a shallow, sluggish stream, from whose muddy bed rose the magnolia, bay, and a multitude of other trees and shrubs, brilliant with bloom and fragrant with perfume.

Climbing over the trunk of a tree which had fallen across the water, Miss Lintner and her pupils enjoyed gathering floral treasures, and made the woods echo with happy songs, as they joined their voices to the warbling of birds busy in building their nests or feeding their young.

Snakes were frequently encountered in the low, wet land, and instead of intimidating these young girls, led them in the same wild pursuit that inspires the huntsman. Sticks were the weapons of attack, and reptiles, once seen, seldom escaped alive.

With the opening of early spring, came the season for active operations upon the plantation. Negroes and mules prepared the soil for seed.