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Recollections of the Inhabitants, Localities, Superstitions, and KuKlux Outrages of the Carolinas. By a "Carpet-Bagger" Who Was Born and Lived There:
Electronic Edition.

Green, John Patterson, b. 1845.

Text transcribed by Apex Data Services, Inc.
Images scanned by Elizabeth S. Wright
Text encoded by Apex Data Services, Inc. and Elizabeth S. Wright
First edition, 2004
ca. 295K
Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,
2004.

        © This work is the property of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use as long as this statement of availability is included in the text.

Source Description:
(title page) Recollections of the Inhabitants, Localities, Superstitions, and KuKlux Outrages of the Carolinas. By a "Carpet-Bagger" Who Was Born and Lived There
A "Carpet-Bagger"
205 p.
[Cleveland?]
[s. n.]
1880.

Call number C917 G79r (North Carolina Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill)

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Illustration

[Title Page Image]

RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE
INHABITANTS, LOCALITIES, SUPERSTITIONS,
AND
KUKLUX OUTRAGES
OF THE CAROLINAS.
BY A
"CARPET-BAGGER"
WHO WAS BORN AND
LIVED THERE.

1880.
Verso

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, in the office of the
Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Page 3

        TO THE
CARPET-BAGGERS OF THE SOUTH:
THOSE UNSWERVING REPUBLICANS
TO WHOSE FIDELITY AND SAGACITY THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED
STATES ARE INDEBTED FOR THE SUCCESSFUL
CONSUMMATION OF THE
RECONSTRUCTION OF THE SOUTH,
THIS UNPRETENTIOUS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED, BY

        THE AUTHOR.

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TO THE PUBLIC.

        The following work possesses the merit of truthfulness, whatever else may be said of it. We make no apology for its appearance or its contents. We believe some things pertaining to the people of the South and its peculiar customs and prejudices, not to be found in any other work, are to be found in this. If it shall add to the general stock of information, our highest hopes and expectations shall have been realized.

THE AUTHOR.

Page 5

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Page 9

CHAPTER I.

        General Introduction.--Description of a Southern Village.--Our Beasts of Burden and Vehicles.--"First Mondays."--A Humorous Incident.

        The early days of the Summer of 1872 found three fathers, three mothers and five children residing in the quiet little village of Hudsonville, South Carolina. Driven by fate and the results of the recent great rebellion, the effects of which were still agitating all that section of the Southern country, we had changed our places of abode in other States and pitched our humble tents in this section of the United States, with the avowed intent of commencing life anew, and "making up by sober, industrious effort, so far as the ability lay in us, for lost time." We were all members of that much abused, but exceedingly patient class, known in this country as "colored people," a term which embraces all who have within their veins a single drop of African blood, from the sable brother who traces his lineal ancestors, on both sides, directly from the banks of the Congo and the Nubian plains, and boasts of his unadulterated blood, to the flaxen-haired octoroon, who leads captive the heart of her unwary Anglo-Saxon

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admirer, that never associates her in his mind with any member of the "despised race."

        Jones, the eldest of the three, was a native Southerner, "to the manor born," (a favorite phrase, by the way, in that section,) and had left the home of his nativity, only sixty miles to the northeast of our present place of abode; in fact, having passed the greater part of his manhood as an intinerant carpenter, he was well acquainted not only with every town and hamlet of any note in all that region of country, but he was deeply versed in the avenues of travel leading to them; which was a very important acquisition in a section of country where there were no railroads, and where the tourist was relegated to the usages in vogue before the advent of the Christian era. He knew the names and places of residence of every property-holder of any note as well, and, had the records and maps of the country been lost, I verily believe he could have located more than one half the farms, and given them "metes and bounds" from his retentive memory, for stakes and stones and "blazed" trees were as familiar to him as the ordinary thoroughfares of business are to the metropolitan merchant. He could no more part with the services of his friendly pipe than he could with his "better half," and when comfortably ensconced by the side of a glowing hickory fire on a winter's night, with his pipe well filled, he could "spin yarns" by the hour.

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        Brown was the junior of Jones, and, while he had not the same degree of experience concerning country life, yet he made it his boast that he knew "a thing or two," because he had spent several years as a resident of that great hive of industry, New York--a name, the very mention of which to the average rustic of the South, causes his eyes to dilate like miniature saucers and animates his curiosity. Brown was impulsive; he preferred fighting to eating; he carried his revolver and bowie knife, and bore the reputation in all that section of being "a bad man," of which epithet, as applied to him, he was very proud.

        Of the writer hereof but little need be said, since he is to take a very unimportant part in the events which shall be related--scarcely more than that of a faithful scribe, who will undertake to note down a truthful account of the events in their regular order. Suffice it to say then, that, while he acknowledged the "Old North State" (North Carolina) as the home of his nativity, yet, having escaped thence during his tender childhood, shunning the baleful effects of that social ulcer, slavery, and seeking a healthy atmosphere, where he could grow to the full stuture of manhood, he had found that garden spot of the whole earth, the noble Western Reserve of the great State of Ohio, where, surrounded by kind friends, loving hearts and institutions of learning, he had succeeded in acquiring a

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sufficient store of knowledge to partially appreciate his own infirmities and the necessities of his race, and he had now returned to the Sunny South with a burning zeal to do something in his day for the common good, and build up for himself and family an honorable name among the sons of men.

        We had not tarried long in Hudsonville before we began to think that we had made a mistake in locating: for, while this village was quite noteworthy in some respects, yet, for men without capital, having aspirations socially and financially, it was as barren as a desert. A court-house, jail, post-office, three churches, four large warehouses, five stores and about fifty dwellings, scattered at irregular intervals along half a dozen streets and accommodating from two hundred and fifty to three hundred souls, comprised the village. The inhabitants of this little place were composed almost exclusively of the owners of the large cotton plantations, which lay on three sides of it, and their families and dependents, if we except two or three storekeepers, who supplied the wants of this small community. Socially, they formed a little literary coterie, or mutual admiration society among themselves, at whose doors no "foreigner" (as they significantly termed all persons from the North) need knock. They sent to Charleston for their extra provisions, drew their latest fashions from Charleston, and derived their newspapers and

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general inspiration from the same source. They had heard of Calhoun, Rhett, Hayne, Pinckney, and other states' rights champions, and worshipped their names, but cared little for aught else; and, aside from attending church and rendering an occasional parlor theatrical, they had little amusement. For a colored person, possessing any of those finer qualities of soul or intellect, such as distinguish one from the "ignoble herd," there was no affiliation, no inspiration, no life, save such as could be found among the plantation hands, who, though frequently pure hearted and innocent in their dealings, were, nevertheless, covered by such a dark pall of ignorance and superstition, bequeathed to them by their former taskmasters, as rendered them unfit for the ordinary demands of society. There was no business there for a man without a trade, or capital with which to undertake some speculative enterprise; and as for the learned professions, such as medicine and law, no one thought of embarking in the practice of either, unless his acquaintance was coextensive with the county and his reserve fund considerable.

        There were at least twelve days in the year, however, that would have been considered as exceptions to the rule in Hudsonville; when monotony gave place to variety, and the appearance of the public square was altogether changed. These were the "First Mondays"

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of each and every month; days made famous in the State of South Carolina by reason of the fact that the sheriffs of the different counties were accustomed to offer for sale at the county seats such property as fell to their lot to sell, by virtue of their official capactiy. There were a class of hardy men who made it their business to drive wagons over the territory of that and adjacent states, bartering and selling goods, especially tobacco, horses and mules. They came, generally, from the western section of the State of North Carolina, where there are numerous tobacco manufactories and some live stock worthy of note. As they progressed along their route they were in the habit of selling to persons remote from commercial centers, and when they could not obtain money for their wares they would barter them away for such produce as they could dispose of in the large towns, such as hides, corn, bacon, flour and the like. These "wagoners" kept well posted regarding "First Mondays," and they became in the course of time to be one of the most prominent features of the day. They began to arrive early in the day, with dogs and other animals hitched on behind, and as they ranged themselves in semicircular form on the public square they presented quite a picturesque appearance. They were generally men of much experience, and not unfrequently included among their number persons of desperate character, especially when excited from the

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effect of strong drink. Hence these days became noted far and wide as occasions of strife, and sometimes bloodshed. On such occasions knives were freely used, and the revolver was an indispensable means of protection.

        As these lines are being penned the writer recollects an occasion when about a dozen men, veterans of the Confederate army, were seated on the side of a hill in close proximity to his place of abode. They had numerous bottles of brandy peaches and cherries (the sale of whisky and brandy in any other form being forbidden by law on those days), all of which they greedily devoured, and speedily became intoxicated. They then recounted their deeds of valor upon the field of battle during the great rebellion; told how many "Yanks" they had killed, and exhibited, in one or two instances, trinkets manufactured from the bones of our poor Union soldiers. After that they boasted of the "niggers" they had owned before the war, and told how much they regretted the loss of them. It happened that among these men there was one whose race was not well defined. He was a peculiar looking man--not exactly white, nor yet was he sufficiently dark to be classed with the colored people by one not well acquainted with him. He was familiarly known as "Colonel." In his day Colonel had owned a few slaves, and to a certain extent he had affiliated with the white portion of the

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community. During this maudlin performance on the part of the men referred to, the conversation turned on the pedigree of the various members of the party, and each in turn gave his, so far as he could. Smith said his ancestors came over direct from England and landed at Jamestown; Scott said he could trace his pedigree to the Scottish bard of the same name, and he was not certain but that some of the Burns family were distantly related to some of his ancestors; O'Neil referred the gentleman to his illustrious Irish ancestry, of which he seemed to be very proud; but, when it came to the Colonel's turn to speak, he was as silent as the tomb, and opened not his mouth. "Come, Colonel," said Smith, "none of that now; show up; no dodging." "That's so," they all rhymed in chorus. "Tell us where you came from." "Well, gentlemen," said the Colonel, hesitating," "if I must tell you, I believe I am Portugese." "PORTUGESE NIGGER!" exclaimed Smith with much emphasis, and then there was a general laugh, and all took a drink at the expense of the blushing Colonel. Later in the evening these men mounted their horses and rode violently through the streets of the village, yelling like wild Indians, terrifying the souls of timid women and children, and concluding the performance by cutting one of their own number severely with a knife. During the early part of this same afternoon an incident of a rather humorous nature

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took place, which was characteristic of the men and customs.

        A young man who had imbibed rather freely, and was confident respecting his physical ability, said he was a tinker and "spoiling for a fight;" he had challenged several persons to a fight at fisticuffs, and in one or two instances he had even shaken his fist in the faces of men. He continued to run around the square, daring some one to knock a chip off of his shoulder, without meeting with the slightest success. Brown, one of our party, was at that time keeping a grocery facing the public square. The building occupied by him was built on the side of a hill, and the intervening depression in front had been filled with sawdust; just the place for throwing somersaults. Brown was very busy with his customers, when the young man "Spoiling for a fight" entered his store and said "I'm a tinker;" receiving no attention from any one, he repeated the assertion, "I'm a tinker, I am!" At that instant Brown turned, seized the youth by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pantaloons, and threw him. Some said the misguided "tinker" turned a triple somersault; that I cannot vouch for, but this much can truly be said: when he came down he struck on his head, and the last that was seen of him he was sitting beneath a tree, mopping his brow and wiping the blood from his nose, while he perchance ruminated in his mind over the uncertainties of life.

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        These days, however, were few and far between, and could not be relied upon. Under these circumstances, the aforesaid trio were not long in concluding to visit a neighboring town of some commercial pretensions, for the purpose of prosecuting an investigation with a view to an ultimate change of our place of residence. In this section of the country, those avenues of thrift and progress, rail roads, were then, as now, little in use, and as a means of conveyance our choice lay between walking and buggy riding; but as the proposed route lay through sands and rough lands, we were not long in selecting the latter. Our stock were not such as to attract the eye of a connoisseur, or even to reflect credit upon the equine species in that vicinity, as a slight description of them will readily prove. Jones had a little bay mare, of nervous temperament, slightly over-fed, and anxious to exhibit her vivacity to the average observer. In short, she would run away whenever opportunity offered. But Jones was very proud of her, called her Fannie, and made a regular pet of her. Brown had a large sorrel horse, of very angular appearance, whose hip bones were so very prominent as to be suggestive of hat pins, while his spinal column and heavy ribs, visible through his losely fitting hide, betokened a frame of uncommon strength and powers of endurance; and notwithstanding the evident fact that he had seen better days, he yet retained a sufficient degree of his pristine vitality and

Page 19

fire to paw the earth and neigh for new scenes and fresh exploits; of which, I may add, he was ere long to have an ample allowance. Brown purchased this horse and gave as consideration, five dollars in money, one barrel of flour, and two sides of salt dried bacon. "Gentle reader," you may smile if you choose when I tell you this, but it is a fact, nevertheless; this unpretentious horse, under his master's judicious care, frequently traveled twenty miles, to the nearest rail road station, and returned with fifteen hundred pounds of merchandise, between sunrise and sunset of the same day; and was at times pitted against comparatively fast horses for a race. The writer's horse was a borrowed one. He was jet black, with a piece of his tail cut off; he was not what might be called a fast horse--on the contrary he was quite slow in his movements, and needed constant prodding to keep him in motion; and had such a careworn, discouraged, heart-broken look about his countenance, as would almost melt a heart of stone, and cause an over anxious driver to relent. Such, then, were our horses; and our vehicles were scarcely more pretentious. They were not models of beauty nor yet even fair specimens of art; since they were minus tops, had low backs, and the one in which the writer and his family traveled would not "track" with the others by several inches. However, they were the best that could be obtained in that section for love or money; and, making a virtue of

Page 20

necessity, we refrained from grumbling and faultfinding, and began to prepare for our journey. The first thing provided was provender for the horses, an article quite scarce in that village and hence very highly prized. We filled sacks with corn, placed them under the seats, and tied on numerous bundles of fodder behind; filled our baskets with food and our flasks with liquids for the company; the little ones were stowed away in safe places, and our positions taken on the seats. Thus equipped and mounted, we turned our backs for the time upon old Hudsonville, jubilant at the thought that for a short space at least we should be relieved of the fatiguing monotony which seemed to be crushing out all our former vigor,--that we should escape from the scornful glances, the sneers and intolerable oppressions which inevitably go hand in hand with caste proscription; albeit, those who champion the system are self-constituted autocrats, and in any well-regulated community, having merit as its standard of distinction, would not attain to mediocrity. While such thoughts as the foregoing flit through the mind, we cross the corporate limits, descend a slight knoll into a pleasant little valley, lose sight of the spires of the churches, and are well started on our journey.

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CHAPTER II.

        Prosecuting the Journey.--Beauties of Nature Strewn Around Us.--The Guide Post--The Irishman's Mistake.--Brown goes "To See a Man."--The Old Mill Pond.--Just the Place for Dark Deeds.--Legends connected with it.--Union Soldiers.--Murdered Victims.--Story of Henry Woods.--His Guilty Love and its Fatal Determination.--Matrimony among the Plantation Hands of the South.--Wasted Power.--Mistaken Policy of Southern Producers.--What Judge ---- said.

        Once relieved from the restraints imposed upon us by municipal regulations, and stimulated by the cheering surroundings, our little party gave itself up to the pleasures of the hour; the elder ones of us sang and cheered, while the little ones made the welkin ring with shouts of merry laughter, and sustained their reputation of being "little chatterboxes." And well might we rejoice: for a scene was spread out around and before us almost surpassing belief: a scene from the laboratory of nature: such as no pen can depict or pencil sketch. The forests clothed in their newest garments and bedecked with vernal flowers, were more inviting than ever: primroses blushed back at May flowers, while violets drooped their modest heads and each vied with the other in scattering sweet fragrance on the balmy air. The feathered songsters, resplendent in their

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recent plumage, drew inspiration from the scene and piped forth their melodious lays of gratitude and thanksgiving; while the frisky little squirrels, leaping from limb to limb, glanced sidewise at us and ran athwart our track as if to challenge us to a little game of hide-and-go seek, in which they were sure to be the victors. Little Johnnie was desirous of having a bouquet of "boo fowers," as he termed pretty flowers, and his wish was gratified: Alice, Jones' eldest daughter, thought if she had one of those little squirrels, she would have attained to the acme of her ambition: while Lulu was informed that the only practical way to gain possession of one of those little red birds was to drop a little salt on its tail. And thus we held our course onward as rapidly as we could under the circumstances, the male portion of the family walking in the meantime to assist the horses through the accumulating sands, when suddenly we came to where the road forked, and there very demurely stood a guide (?) post, with one solitary hand, pointing in an equivocal direction. "What's that, cousin Henry?" said my better half. "That, cousin, is a guide post," he replied. "A guide post! guide to what? it has only one index, and that is apparently pointing to the woods over there." "Well," said cousin Henry, "for that matter, it would have been just as well if it never had any, for at the time it was put up there were only few in this part of the country

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who could read the inscription on it. The colored people were prohibited by law from learning to read, the poor class of white people had no provision made for them, and the rich ones very seldom needed a guide post." The writer suggested that it was put there to commemorate some important event in the history of the neighborhood; and this suggestion drew forth the well-known story, related by our ancestors, of the Irishman, fresh from the mother country, who, while traveling in the Granite State, approached a guide post which bore the inscription "40 miles to Manchester." It is said that Patrick was greatly perplexed to fathom the meaning of the inscription: he took off his hat and scratched his head, and finally, after intently gazing upon it for a brief space with an expression of countenance indicative of great anxiety, he audibly soliloquized: "Fahrty miles the man chased her! be me sowl I cud av ketched her in tin." Brown, however, who during the relation of the foregoing anecdote had been scrutinizing a little clump of trees in the direction indicated by the index on the guide post, just then surprised us all by exclaiming: "Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse me for a moment while I go to yon shanty and see a man." And without further parley he took leave of us, not even awaiting our answer or interrogatory as to whether he would have company. Another moment exposed to full view a little groggery here in this

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isolated place, to entrap the unwary traveler and contribute toward his fail. The lone index on the post pointing to the grove was explained; all was plain now. We were mistaken in supposing it to be a guide post; it was the dram seller's signal to the road to perdition. Brown shortly overtook the remainder of the party; he was a changed man, for whereas before he left us he was stupidly dull, his eyes now sparkled with merriment, and instead of being demure and solemn he was now garrulous, and had even began to compare the old rail fence on the side of the road to a rustic structure which he had seen in Central Park, New York, when his narrative was fortunately cut short by "Cousin Henry" (as we familiarly called Jones) exclaiming, "Cousin John," (meaning the writer) "do you see that mill-pond over there?" I assured him in most positive terms that I did. "Well, that is Hunt's mill pond, that you have heard me talk so much about. I want you to take a good look at it as we go by, because there are a good many hard stories told about it, and most of them are true, too."

        In truth I scarcely needed the injunction to "take a good look at it," for it was such a place as was well calculated to challenge the attention of any traveler, and even as he spoke we approached the rude bridge over the race, which gave forth deep intonations beneath the horses' hoofs and wagon wheels in perfect keeping

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with the surrounding scenery. Overhanging the margin of one segment of this pond were gloomy cypress trees, and beneath these an almost impenetrable jungle of whortleberry bushes, reeds and rushes, fit abode for beasts of prey and poisonous reptiles. Added to this was the deafening roar of the waters, rushing wildly through the race, and reverberating through the forest; all of which made up a scene well suited for deeds of violence and bloodshed. "During the war, cousin John," spake Jones, "there were more than one poor union soldier killed and thrown into this pond, and if the bottom could be raked, you would find many a human skeleton buried in the mud." "Why do you say that, cousin Henry? did you take any part in the transactions?" I asked. "No, but these things were talked about and generally understood; and the people hereabouts don't hesitate to admit it. I remember hearing old Colonel Hull tell of a union soldier that escaped from his command one night; he was sick and could not go very fast, and so, when the alarm was given that a man had escaped, and they put bloodhounds on his track, he was easily captured. One of the party asked the Colonel what was done with the soldier; but he got for an answer only a smile and a wink as the Colonel pointed over his shoulder in the direction of Hunt's mill-pond.

        "About three years ago," he continued, "a peddler's pack was found in that thicket over there,"--pointing

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to a suggestive looking jungle on the margin of the pond. "It had been rifled of its contents; near it lay an old leathern wallet, containing nothing of value, and only a few feet further off was found a heavy, club-shaped piece of wood, blood-stained, with a few hairs sticking to it. What became of the body no one has ever answered, but if that old mill-pond could talk, I think it could tell something about it.

        "But the strangest transactisn that ever took place in connection with this pond, so far as I have any knowledge, was the murder of a woman by one Henry Woods, who was hung in Hudsonville last summer."

        "What was that?" I asked.

        "Well, to give you a full understanding of the occurrence, I must go back a little.

        "You see," he continued, "during the days of slavery it was not considered a very serious offence for a slave to have more than one wife; and while a few of the more conscientious owners, in some instances seemed to discourage it, by far the greater number not only winked at it, but actually encouraged what might have been mistaken for one phaze of the religion of the 'latter day saints.' The result was a polygamous state of society in existence among the slaves; and on many of the most populous plantations, husbandless wives and fatherless children. In fact, even those who went through the form of a marriage ceremony were told that it was not

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binding on them, and so thoroughly convineed were they of the truth of this statement that after freedom came they were remarried by hundreds and thousands; indeed Rev. Mr. Moore, of Darlington, did nothing else for several weeks than go around and marry these emancipated people. And a strange sight it was too, cousin John, to see parents who had grown-up children, some of them grand-children, old gray haired men and women who had climbed the hill together for more than half a century in some instances, where their owners were kind and would not separate them, come to the matrimonial altar, renew their vows, clasp each other in their free arms, and shout glory hallelujah to the Lord who had delivered them out of bondage and permitted them to see the glorious light of liberty.

        "Owing to the early training that these people had received," he continued, "there were a great many who after they gained their liberty refused to fall in with the new order of things, and continued to follow the old fashion of having more than one wife. Such a man was Henry Woods. He had a very nice woman for a wife, who was intelligent, industrious and kind; she was the mother of a bright-eyed little child which he acknowledged as his own, and Henry really loved them both. But, for some inexplicable cause, he could not make up his mind to forsake another woman with whom he had been more than intimate for several years, notwithstanding

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his seeming desire to do so. His wife chided him; the neighbors upbraided; his own conscience told him it was wrong, but still he persisted in his course. Finally his wife told him she would not live with him any longer unless he quit Lucy, his paramour. Then Henry became desperate; he went to Lucy and tried to persuade her to let him alone, but as she would not consent he let the matter drop and said no more on the subject. And so the matter rested, and had almost escaped the attention of every one, until one day a man ploughing on the other side of this pond, smelled an obnoxious odor, and upon investigation found the partially decomposed remains of a colored woman. The corpse was identified as the body of Lucy, who had previously been missed, but as the process of decomposition was far advanced and the stench was almost intolerable, it was difficult to persuade any one to handle it, and it was finally placed in a rude box and buried without examination.

        "The affair had been nearly forgotten, when, the attention of the coroner being called to it, he caused the body to be disinterred and examined. It was found, upon examination, that the woman was the victim of foul play, and had been inhumanly murdered by some unknown felon, who, for aught that was known, was even then at large in their very midst. Suspicion pointed at once toward Henry Woods, her former

Page 29

"friend," as being the guilty party; and, as is generally the case, the discovery of one fact led to others. It was ascertained that about ten days previous to the discovery of the body a loud shriek had startled several persons residing in the vicinity of the pond, but as no adequate cause therefor was discovered the matter was dismissed from their minds and shortly forgotten. One of the neighbors also recalled the fact that at or about the same time, when traveling along the road near the pond, he saw Henry standing in a suspicious manner amongst the under brush, and that he, when accosted, answered evasively. And then every one remembered that Henry had worn a downcast, guilty look upon his countenance for a week or more, and had not borne himself in his usual manner. All these things contributed to produce in the mind of every one the conviction that Henry Woods had indeed murdered Lucy Hall, his mistress. The result was the arrest and incarceration of Henry, who firmly and persistently protested his innocence, and denied all knowledge of the circumstances surrounding the tragedy. The body of Lucy, when examined, presented not only several contused wounds and abrasions of the skin, but, in addition to all these, there were numerous little gashes covering the scalp, wearing the appearance of having been made by the corner of a hatchet, or some tool having a blunt edge, while there was a total absence of one arm, for which no one could

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account. The bruises and cuts were easily accounted for upon general principles, but the absence of the arm was a matter that excited the curiosity of all.

        "The jail in which Henry was confined was a typical Southern jail, contracted in its dimensions, poorly ventilated, and filthy beyond all reason. The atmosphere of this institution was impregnated with foul odors, which emanated from the stagnant fluids contained in slop-pails, that stood around lacking attention, and of vermin there was no limit. The walls of his cell were covered with sheet iron, while a bundle of rags in one corner of the room answered the purpose of a bed. His food was the proverbial corn bread and fat bacon. When occasional deliveries of this jail took place, the prisoners had only to escape to a swamp in the rear of the building and their freedom was secured, for the old sheriff made no effort to pursue them beyond the margin, where he would discharge his fowling-piece and beat a hasty retreat. At length the trial of Henry took place, and his innocent wife, who had in the meantime been arrested also, as particeps criminis, and lodged in jail with him, was compelled to bear a portion of his disgrace and sufferings. Henry was convicted of murder, but his wife was set free without day. After he had received the sentence of death, he dismissed all hope of pardon on this side of the grave, made a complete confession of the crime, and sought the services of

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a minister of the gospel. He never did, however, account for the missing arm, concerning which there were two theories in vogue; one of which was that when the woman was pushed into the water and drowned, as Henry had confessed, the arm was chopped off by her murderer while clinging to the log upon which he stood; but the other theory, which was the favorite one among the colored people, was that after being cast into the pond, an alligator, or some other monstrous reptile, had torn the limb from the body, as the mangled stump seemed to indicate.

        "Hangman's day was a gala day in the South then as now," he continued; "and the day on which Henry Woods was executed was no exception to the rule. Long before the hour appointed for the execution, people of all colors, ages and conditions began to flock to the scene of the sad event, which was the Public Square of Hudsonville. Young and old, large and small, rich and poor, the vigorous and decrepit all came--in wagons and buggies, on horseback and afoot, they crowded the roads leading to the village. It seemed as though all the plantations and hamlets within a radius of twenty miles had poured out their inhabitants and sent them forth on one grand holiday excursion. They filled all the vacant space within the bounds of the Public Square, they crowded the stores and dwelling-houses, and even the neighboring house and tree-tops were made to do

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service on this occasion. Those inseperable attendants of holiday assemblages, circusses and camp meetings in the South--the gingerbread, beer and peanut-venders--were on the scene, ministering to the wants of the hungry; while the effects of corn whisky were plainly discernable in the flushed cheeks, unsteady gait and heated discussions of those who had imbibed it, so slight was the moral effect of the public execution which was within an hour to be consummated in their very presence.

        "At precisely twelve o'clock the gloomy procession appeared, with the doomed man in their midst. The victim wore an ordinary suit of black clothing, kindly donated for the occasion, had his arms firmly bound at the elbows and wrists, a black cap on his head and a halter around his neck. During the mournful march from the jail to the scaffold, his wife, who was in a neighboring house, gave forth a series of most heart-rending shrieks, and the whole combined furnished such a scene as brought tears from the eyes of the strongest man present. The victim mounted the fatal drop with placid composure, in strange contrast with the agitation observable on the part of the rest. He submitted without a murmur to having his knees and ankles bound, and then he addressed the crowd. He acknowledged his guilt; denied that he mutilated the body by cutting off the arm referred to; warned those in his presence

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against the evils of bad company and kindred evils, and concluded by asserting his willingness to die and commending his soul to the Savior. A hymn was then "lined out" by the minister present, in the singing of which the doomed man took the lead. The good sisters present shouted and prayed by turns, and in the midst of all this confusion the trap was sprung which launched the soul of Henry Woods into eternity. The drop was too long, and the result was the feet of the victim rested upon the earth. Several strong men rushed to assist the sheriff, and raised up the body until the rope could be shortened. The body was even then motionless and void of any evidence of animation to the casual observer, although there might have been a perceptible motion of the pulse to the medical expert. After hanging there for the space of an hour, it was lowered into a rough pine box and turned over to the relations of the deceased for burial."

        When Cousin William had concluded this interesting narration it was noticed that the children had succumbed to the influence of the springing motion of the buggies and fallen asleep, while the old pond had been left far in the rear.

        In this connection it may not be considered out of place to remark that the supply of water power by the pond referred to was sufficient to have run spindles and looms enough to spin and weave all the cotton fibre

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produced in that vicinity, yet it was utterly disregarded, subjected to no practical use, and permitted to waste. Perhaps the future will bring forth some Southern political economist who will undertake to explain the reason why the producers of the South continue to persist in their lavish wastefulness: why they ignore all the teachings of the past and the rules and maxims of economy, and cling to their ante bellum habits. At present no adequate excuse presents itself so far as the writer is aware of. They plant their cotton and garner it; they press it into bales and sell it to foreign manufacturers for a small price, and then buy it back again, manufactured into fabrics of various kinds, at a greatly increased figure. They harvest their sugar-cane: press out the juice and reduce it to sugar, syrup and molasses, and in many instances leave the clarifying and renovating process to be done by Northern labor and enterprise. Very poor land, which will scarcely produce the tithe of a crop of cotton, is still subjected to the culture of the fibre, while the same land, if given to the production of corn, sweet potatoes, peas, and other like produce, would repay the laborer's toil and render it possible for one to obtain articles of ordinary diet for the table in some sections where now scarcely the invalid is able to subsist, so completely is the whole territory given to the culture of cotton. The writer has an acquaintance who once walked more than eight miles in

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scouring the country thereabouts in the almost vain effort to procure a tender chicken for an invalid wife. And it is a matter of no very unfrequent occurrence that when at times the boats are delayed by drouth, or otherwise, a whole town or district is deprived of such common articles of food as flour and bacon, coffee and sugar; and, surprising as it may seem, there was a time during the writer's residence in Hudsonville, when corn for the live stock was held at a premium because of its scarcity; and this, too, when the village was literally surrounded with well cultivated plantations.

        This ruinous policy on the part of the South was very aptly illustrated by Judge -- a few weeks ago when, in the course of a public address on the occasion of a reception which had been tendered one of our prominent citizens by the people of Columbia, South Carolina, he said in substance as follows: "We sell our raw hides at eight and ten cents a pound, and ship them to the North; we furnish the red oak bark to tan them with; afterwards we buy back the tanned leather and pay you thirty-five and forty cents per pound for it." Nor are the many inconveniences attending such a policy the least objectionable feature attending this policy; for we must not lose sight of the additional fact that, while the producers fail to realize the increased profit accruing from the manufacturing of the raw materials into their ultimate forms; while their cities and towns languish for

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the want of remunerative employment for the men and the young women who might become to be of assistance in providing the necessaries of life for large and needy families, and the tide of immigration is stayed from its onward tendency in that direction: all of which causes have their force in seriously discouraging and retarding the growth of that whole section of country: while all these facts exist, I say, the additional fact remains to be written that the people of the South are actually paying out of their meagre surplus, representing the profits on their crops, the price of twice handling the goods and conveying them to and from places remote from the sections where they are consumed. The South experienced the folly of this policy to her sorrow during the recent rebellion, when she was a dependent upon her enemies for the sinews of war, and her sons and daughters, in many instances, walked the streets of her commercial centers clothed almost literally in sackcloth; for it is related, on good authority, that in some instances carpeting was utilized as a covering for the person, and boots and shoes were ranked as the greatest luxuries. In those days parched corn husks took the place of coffee, and butternut cotton goods were substituted for broad-cloth.

        But we have digressed from our original topic. We have passed the fifteen-mile post, just five miles from the village of Oriole, the first on our route, and as we are

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desirous of reaching that point before three o'clock we must urge on our horses. Once there, we shall unhitch and feed them, while we partake of a slight repast ourselves.

        But, stay; we are approaching objects of importance. "What are those moss covered buildings just in advance of us, cousin Henry?"

        "They are an old church and school-house, cousin John; and that lonely-looking space just in the rear is a cemetery, or 'grave-yard,' as they are called here," he answered.

        Kind reader, excuse us for a moment while we hold the baby, so that our patient wife can change her position, for she vows that the low brace attached to our buggy, called a back, is torturing her, and a change must be made, and that without delay; afterwards we shall return to the church, the school-house and the deserted cemetery.

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CHAPTER III.

        The Old Church and School House.--Reflections on their Style of Architecture.--The Forgotten Dead.--Superstitious Dread of Ghosts on the part of the Inhabitants.--Witchcraft and Conjuration.--Peculiar Antics of a Pretended Conjurer.--His Legal Complications and Happy Deliverance.--Despondency and Gloom occasioned by a Belief in the same.--Ignorance the Cause of these Superstitious Beliefs.--Its Existence in Germany, England, and New England in the Past.--Day beginning to Dawn in the South.


                         "When I am dead and gone from you darling,
                         When I'm laid low in my grave,
                         And my spirit has gone to Heaven above,
                         To Him who my soul has saved;
                         When you are happy and gay once more,
                         Thinking of days that have been;
                         This one little favor I ask of you,
                         See that my grave is kept green."

        It is not the intention of the writer to refer so particularly to the church and school house in this connection, as to the forlorn cemetery beyond, for aside from the dilapidated appearance of these relics of the past, and the memories of days that have now become historical, which are recalled by their presence, there was nothing connected with them worthy of especial mention. It is true, the old well beneath the spreading oak over there, with

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ancient sweep and detached pole and moss covered bucket, carried us back in imagination to the time when the lads and lassies of that section mounted upon their frisking steeds, who after accomplishing their sabbath days journey to the house of the Lord, dismounted by its side, and quenched their thirst from its refreshing contents; to say nothing of the little ones, (children of the favored few) who found in its crystal draught an ever-ready excuse to escape the vigilant eye of the school master, on the sultry summer's day.

        And who that has read the story of the afflictions and persecutions of the colored race in the south, could even casually glance at the shattered panes, broken doors, dust covered pulpit and uncushioned seats with backs so erect and unyielding as to reflect to some degree the cruel dispositions of those who were wont to occupy them, while beneath the ministrations of some sedate divine they searched the Scriptures in the vain endeavor to discover some maxim or command that would justify or even extenuate the sin of human slavery indulged in by them. But there was nothing connected with these time honored ruins that carried the mind back to an era of thrift and advancement, when the intellect was unclouded and the ambition soared to sublime conceptions: nothing in the architectural design of these, suggestive of the Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, Composite, Gothic or any other school known to the artist;

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but everything was flat, and unpretentious, in perfect keeping with a generation that courted case and exemption from toil, at the expense of the sweat, the blood and lives of a whole race of people; and who preferred rather to devote their time to forging fetters for their limbs and training blood-hounds for the inhuman chase, than to unfolding the god-like qualities of mind and soul, and contributing toward the amelioration of human woes.

        But let us look at this little cemetery--this last resting place of the forgotton dead. I say forgotten; and I think rightly so; for who could look upon that lonely deserted space all covered with rank weeds and inhabited by serpents, and come to any other conclusion. Here were no marble slab or monument, bearing an inscription of love and kind remembrance; not even a stake, in some instances, remained to mark the grave of one who formerly graced the board: it might have been a fond parent, or perhaps a kind and loving brother or sister.

        Who knows but that beneath those very weeds and rubbish, lay the remains of one who once was the joy and light of the household, such an one as could have led captive the heart of wealth and virtue; one whose merry voice resounded through these very groves, fit company for the little song birds, that acknowledged her coming with songs of delight; whose flaxen tresses floated lightly on the summer breezes, disclosing to view a bust of alabaster

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and form angelic: and it may be that those little feet once capered nimbly o'er the well scrubbed floor to the "lascivious pleasing" of a stringed instrument in the hands of a native musician. But now all is forgotten; no loving soul, fondly cherishing her memory, bends the knee beside her lonely grave, to plant a rose bush or ivy vine; no one drops a tear, silently saying--"Gone but not forgotten."

        Under the circumstances is it to be wondered at that a general feeling of superstitious dread of ghosts pervaded the community in that section of country? and that even persons who would not have hesitated to beard the lion in his den or face the enemy on the field of battle, could not have been hired, coaxed or scared into visiting that cemetery, or any other cemetery indeed, after night fall? To have undertaken to persuade some of the people in that locality that there were no such existences in fact as ghosts, and convince them that what they mistook for these ethereal substances were only results of a distorted imagination, would have been a futile task; for it was a belief not only inculcated from their childhood, until it had become to be a part of their religious belief, but they had even imbibed it from their mother's breast. The writer can recall instances in his childhood days when one of his daily chores was to go to the residence of Judge--, a wealthy old slave holder, and fetch back our daily allowance of milk, and

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since this duty was frequently performed after night fall, no little embarrassment was experienced on his part by reason of the ghost stories with which he was regaled by those with whom he came in contact on the judge's premises. "Aunt Hannah" would tell of the dead groaning in their graves, when certain passages of scripture were read over them, on certain nights of the year at the hour of "low twelve;" "LittleAunty," would tell of a haunted house on the writer's way to his home, where lights were blown out and strange noises heard at all hours of night, in which no one could be induced to reside for love nor money; while Augustus would relate that a real ghost had been seen a few days prior, walking in the village cemetery, and vow that not for his liberty (he was a slave) could he be induced to enter that cemetery after dark. And often on a winter's night after sitting and hearing these ghost stories repeated around the family circle, one's heart would leap within him at the rustling of a garment or the movement of a mouse, and in imagination he was even then in the presence of a veritable "Spirit of health or goblin damned;" and as for sleep, it was a stranger to his eyelids for weary hours, and when at last it came, it brought with it dreams such as were better calculated to disturb than refresh the mind. And while considering this subject, we are tempted to refer also to another superstitious belief which has become firmly seated in the minds of

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many persons of both colors in the South. I refer to the belief in witchcraft and conjuration, the latter of which so far as I am informed is only a modification of the former, according to their teachings and belief. They not only refer to the traditions of their ancestors as the basis of this silly belief, but even go so far as to point with pride to certain passages of the Scriptures, to be found in the Old Testament, in justification of it; and with a look of triumph ask you whether you are wiser than the inspired writers. Gray haired matrons and sires, "with one foot in the grave," who rest their future happiness on a firm belief in the teachings of the meek and lowly Savior, will prate for hours of witches, that enter dwellings through key holes, and can only be killed by being shot with silver balls; while they are as completely enslaved by their superstitious fears, maxims, lucky and unlucky days, and as much subjected by the force of the same, as though they were "I' the stocks." or "fettered to the soil." Diseases that under other circumstances would be attributed to ordinary causes, are laid at the door of witches and conjurers, and the only practical and reasonable treatments are ignored, while enchantments of various kinds, amulets, and charms are resorted to as a means of relief. Cups are turned, roots of various kinds are dug from the earth and treasured up, horse shoes and bones of animals are suspended in the house or nailed over the

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doors, cards are shuffled and their dread portents read with alarm; children are taught to religiously avoid stepping in the "fresh tracks" of those who have preceded them on the road: to enter a house at one door and depart by the same, they consider an ill omen: to turn back is a sign of bad luck, because Lot's wife looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt: an old shoe is cast after a newly married couple, and the life and death of the contracting parties to every marriage are influenced by the state of the weather at the time of its consummation. All the foregoing signs are regarded with religious scrupulousness, to say nothing of the phazes of the moon and lucky and unlucky stars: a few marks upon the earth or a crooked stick in the way, excites as much curiosity, more indeed, than a venomous reptile would.

        The writer recalls an incident in this connection, which occurred during his sojurn in the South, that goes far toward illustrating the subject under consideration. Not far from the village of Hudsonville there was situated a large cotton plantation, the property of a Mr. Sackett, of Charleston. There were extensive quarters upon this land for the accommodation of the hands, of whom there were a goodly number. The overseer, together with his wife and children, composed the white portion of the inhabitants, while the colored hands constituted the remainder. They were of the average intelligence found in that section of the country. During the spring

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of the year 1872, a peculiar-looking genius, tall of stature, dark of complexion, wearing knee breeches, a red flannel shirt and a very broad-brimmed straw hat, made his appearance upon the plantation aforesaid, carrying in his hand a small satchel, containing numerous vials filled with liquid substances of various colors. He announced himself as being a votary at the shrine of his Satanic majesty, with whom he was in league, and by whose aid and assistance he possessed power not only over all the various diseases and ills to which humanity is heir, but even succeeded in convincing some of the members of the little community that he held in his power the destinies of all who came within reach of his magic arts. He could unfold the secrets of the past and present, and prognosticate the future. His bearing and attire were so very peculiar that he experienced little difficulty in securing free access to the rude cabins, where he gratuitously obtained his dinner and supper. During the interval between these meals he improved the opportunity of telling the fortunes of several of the heads of families and their wives. To some husbands he unfolded the infidelity of their wives, and then he, in turn, revealed to the grief-stricken wives all the mysteries of their husbands' guilty loves. The result of all this treachery was that there were few cabins on that plantation during the following night where peace and quiet prevailed. Mutual accusations were made; mutual

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explanations and protestations followed; then curses and hissing epithets were showered down freely upon the head of the presumptuous wretch--the vice-gerent of "Old Nick"--who was the cause of all the trouble. At last the impostor was ferreted out, bound hand and foot and, after having been ridden on the "ragged edge" of a rail through the quarters, he was turned over to the tender mercies of the minions of the law. The trial justice's office was crowded on the following morning with witnesses and anxious spectators, determined to see that right and justice prevailed.

        The justice's office was situated on an isolated town lot, flanked on either side with small "patches" of corn. The corn was now sufficiently advanced to be about five feet in height, which in that locality was not more than half height. The case was called "The State of South Carolina against John Doe." The now thoroughly frightened victim was led to the bar of justice; the windows and the door were open, and yet the heat was oppressive and the atmosphere stifling.

        When the defendant had patiently listened to the reading of the charge preferred against him, he murmured not, but entered a plea of "guilty." Then, as if to seek relief, he exclaimed, "Sheriff, for goodness sake give me a little water, or I shall faint;" at the same instant reaching forward toward the water bucket, which stood on a shelf near the door. The crowd, now

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partially reconciled, stood apart to give the fainting man a chance, when, with a leap and a bound, the bird escaped, and in another moment, as he sped through the corn, the rows actually parted to receive him, so great was his speed. Talk of pursuing him! one had as well have undertaken to pursue the frightened stag or to chase the bird on the wing, so rapid were his movements. He never smiled on us again, and the last word that was heard of him was brought by a wagoner, who had encountered him in an adjoining county, where by means of a black cord stretched across the road and his vials of liquids, he had frightened some of the ignorant ones, and was actually demanding and receiving from them small sums of money as an indemnity against evil.

        This is a strange recital, but true nevertheless. I do not hesitate to assert that death itself were preferable to a condition of mind such as enslaves those who are the victims of that cruel superstitious belief known as conjuration, when from the very nature of its teachings they are cut off from all hope, and relegated to gloomy forebodings and despair. Let us hope that a brighter day is dawning for the deluded souls in the Sunny South, when intelligence and reason shall prevail, and ignorance shall be dispelled. Then all these superstitious beliefs will be banished. The time was when in some of the most enlightened portions of the earth

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similar beliefs prevailed to an alarming extent; for we are told by Macauley that in the beginning of the sixteenth century death was first pronounced against all who should be convicted of witchcraft; also that about the year 1515, five hundred witches were executed in Genoa in the space of three months: and that about one hundred thousand persons were executed in Germany from the publication of the bull of Innocent VIII., in the beginning of the sixteenth century, up to the suppression of the evil: in some instances children not more than nine years of age being the victims. And, mirabile dictu, we are informed that even in "Old England," in the year 1716, a Mrs. Hix and her little daughter, aged nine years, were hanged at Huntington for selling their souls to the devil and raising a storm by pulling off their stockings and making a lather of soap; and that no less than thirty thousand were executed in England for witchcraft. And when, in addition to the foregoing, we recall the fact that even in our own beloved country bitter persecutions have taken place on this same account, we need not marvel that it exists in the South among those who have not enjoyed the elevating influence of education and modern teachings. But, stay; I have detained the reader so long with my musings and anecdotes that we are now in sight of the village of Oriole.

        The children are awake again and waking the echoes,

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rejoiced at the idea of pressing mother earth once more with their little feet; and even our fatigued horses have quickened their pace, fully cognizant of the fact that they are nearing the end of the first stage. We shall meet again in the village.

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CHAPTER IV.

        Oriole.--Its Appearance, Population, etc.--Edward Hill, our Host.--Some Account of his Early Life and Subsequent Career.--Labor and Perseverance Conquers All.--Sacrifice of Principle Essential to Success in the South Then as Now.--Our Repast.--The Menu.--"Collards."--Moral Status of the Denizens of Oriole.--Brown's Opinion: "It is Worse than New York."--Reminiscence of a Former Visit to This Place.--Reflections on the Treatment of Colored People in all parts of the South.

        The village of Oriole would never have existed unless the W. & R. Rail Road had been constructed; and as it owes its origin to that rail road, to a similar degree it was dependent upon it for its means of support. The "shops" were located here, together with a round house for the accommodation of locomotives, and these supplied employment for the heads of the greater number of families in the place. A ware house, three varieties stores, and four groggeries for the accommodation of the inhabitants and "stranger guests," who flocked in at stated intervals from the surrounding territory, completed the list of business establishments, if we except a dingy looking excuse for an hotel, of which, more further on. As the afternoon was far advanced, and both tourists and beasts of burden were sadly in need of refreshments we did not tarry to make an inspection of the "town," or

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even to gratify the idiotic stare of the lonesome looking inhabitants, but urged our steeds forward to the suburbs where resided an old acquaintance, in the person of Mr. Edward Hill, a gentleman of color, the head and chief support of a large and growing family. Mr. Hill was the personification of a self made man, viewed from one aspect, and furnished a fair illustration of what a man, devoid of intellectual training beyond such as he could acquire under adverse circumstances, proscribed by a wicked and embarrassing caste prejudice, can accomplish, if he only possesses a sober, industrious character, coupled with a will to overcome. Edward Hill was more than the foregoing; he was a fair type of a large class of colored men who were then as now struggling against adverse fate in the South, in the laudable effort to vindicate the good name of the so called freedmen of that section. Edward was born a slave in the state of "Old Virginia;" he had no remembrance of his mother or father, because he was separated from them in his infancy, they having been sold to a "speculator," who carried them to one of the gulf states, as was supposed, and disposed of them to the producers of sugar and cotton. When quite a lad, he was purchased by Colonel Hill, one of the former residents of that county, and given employment as a plantation hand on his land, in which capacity he soon became to be a favorite, by reason of his industrious habits and pleasing disposition.

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When the Emancipation Proclamation was issued, Edward, like the remainder of the hands, became to be a free man, and without a month's delay, set about earning a livelihood for his family; for he had already taken unto himself a wife, after the plantation fashion then prevailing, and was even then the father of several promising little children.

        Colonel Hill, his former master, furnished him a piece of land, containing about twenty-five acres, upon the condition that Edward should give him a portion of the net proceeds, after defraying the expenses of producing the crop; which was supposed to be a very fair transaction on the part of the Colonel for the time and locality in which he resided. In order to procure the necessary implements of agriculture, as well as means of sustenance while the process of cultivating the crop was taking place, our friend was compelled to execute a lien upon the whole crop and his personal effects to a grocer in the town, as was the universal custom in all that region of country. His power consisted of an old horse, which he had purchased for a trifle, and a small steer, hardly tractable, but yet under the vigorous and skillful handling of his master capable of doing good service. In the midst of the season, at a time when his crop most needed attention, Edward had the misfortune to lose his horse, and then there was to be seen an example of

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pluck and energy scarcely equaled, certainly not excelled, by the fabled heroes of ancient mythology; for this determined man did not sit in despondency and gloom and bewail his loss; but, shall I tell it, while his eldest son guided the plow behind the little steer, his loving wife stood in the same capacity to him, for he actually drew the plow which she guided. No member of that family was permitted to be idle, even the little ones assisting in various ways. The result of all this heroic effort was that at the end of the season Edward had a surplus, after paying all his debts, and the next spring found him entering upon his preparations for another crop with a good horse and wagon, which he could call his own. And so he had continued to labor, year after year, until now, after the lapse of nine years, we found him the owner of a large tract of well-improved land, completely stocked, and capable of producing, even in an average season, twenty-five bales of cotton, which was at that time worth in the aggregate about eighteen hundred dollars. This is the class of colored men so often referred to by members of Congress and others from the South in vindication of the "wise and humane" policy adopted by them toward those who were formerly their slaves. They say: "Behold Edward Hill, only nine years a free man, and yet the owner of a large farm and its appurtenances, with a net income of at least a

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thousand dollars per year. Where is your colored citizen in the North that is doing as well." By way of answer to all such we have simply to say that, while Edward throve and accumulated property, he did it at a fabulous cost, namely: the utter sacrifice of his manhood; the subjection of all his civil and political convictions to the dictates of those whom he dared not deny as his superiors. He did it by eschewing all political discussions, and even the ballot-box, except when, for the sake of satisfying his neighbors, he voted the Democratic ticket, against which his soul and convictions rebelled within him. But, hearken! they are calling us to dinner or supper, which ever you please, for it is rather late for dinner and somewhat early for supper; and, while we have been following our friend over his farm, viewing his possessions and listening to a recital of his struggles to obtain it, the ladies, "God bless them," have prepared our frugal repast, and now we must partake of it. Mrs. Hill had very kindly prepared us some hot coffee, while our good wives had pooled the contents of their several baskets for the common repast. The menu was not such an one as would have been apt to stimulate the appetite of a fastidious person, accustomed to an elaborate bill of fare, but the viands were relished nevertheless, as the appearance of the dishes, after we had finished, showed. We had as a

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        The uninitiated may be curious to know what collards are; and since you have the profoundest sympathies of the writer, patient reader, if you have never eaten any of them, he will undertake to enlighten you a little on that subject.

        Collards are a species of the cabbage plant, of a dark green color: they are cultivated like cabbages, and have almost the exact appearance of cabbages until they become advanced in age. The cabbage heads; the collard does not head. But the collard does begin to head, and forms a closed lump in the center about the size of an orange, which turns white after being touched by frost, while the surrounding leaves are only streaked with white. To the inhabitants of the country districts of the South, where there are no markets, and the daily allowance consists of salt meat, rice, potatoes and the

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like, and where fresh beef is scarcely ever tasted by the poor people, the collard is a very great blessing: because when boiled in a pot with a piece of fat meat and balls of corn meal dough, having the size and appearance of ordinary white turnips, called dumplings, it makes palatable a diet which would otherwise be all but intolerable. And they are very dearly liked by nearly every one who has been raised on Southern soil, including even some of her most dignified statesmen.

        After dinner we improved the opportunity of taking a stroll through the principal street of the village, where a fair opportunity was offered of studying the moral and intellectual status of the inhabitants. In front of the stores and groggeries benches were invariably to be seen, upon which lounged numerous inferior specimens of humanity, smoking clay pipes with long reed stems, squirting tobacco juice, whittling pine sticks, and "spinning yarns." It was a scene such as was repeated seventy-five times out of a hundred to the vision of the southern tourists at that period of the South's history. Invariably one could see hitched near by one or more horses, saddled and bridled--a favorite mode of traveling in that country. Of oaths of a most blasphemous nature there was no limit, and to the mind of the average Northener the suggestion forced itself that there was a suitable field for the faithful missionary desirous of doing something in the service of the Master.

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        A year previous to this time, Brown, with his fighting proclivities, had gone to this village and opened a small grocery store, in which he also retailed a little of "the ardent." He had not been there three months before he had received as many challenges to fight at fisticuffs, all of which he had to accept or else wear the brand of coward, which would not only have subjected him to every conceivable annoyance from even his physical inferiors, but also jeopardized his success in business there. On one occasion he was compelled to bar his doors and windows for several hours, until assistance arrived; and, on another, he was shot in the leg, and confined to his bed for several weeks. Brown finally, after a brave struggle, lost courage, sold his place and moved to Hudsonville, vowing that he would not live in Oriole if any one should give him the best place in the town, exclaiming: "Why, upon my word of honor, it is worse than New York," which in his opinion was no compliment, for he was in New York City during the hanging of colored men and burning of the Colored Orphan Asylum by Democrats in 1863.

        The writer now recalls an incident of a trip to this village, a few months prior to the time referred to. His family, consisting of his wife and little boy, not two years of age, together with himself, were suffering from the effects of a protracted spell of fever and ague, as well as the hurtful results of enormous doses of

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quinine and calomel, thathad been administered to them by the physicians employed. We were hardly convalescent, very weak, and it was thought that the life of the little one hung by a thread almost. As a last resort, it was decided to try the effects of a colder climate, and a visit to our kind relatives and friends in Northern Ohio was undertaken. Our first stage lay over the same rough road that we have just described, and in order that we might be at the station in time to take the early morning train it was necessary to travel all night. When we arrived at Oriole on the following morning, cold, weary and almost heart-broken, we keenly felt the need of some nourishing food, and the writer immediately applied at the only hotel in the place for accommodation. We were flatly refused; receiving as an answer from the landlord--"We don't feed niggers here; our boarders will not allow it. If you choose you can go in the kitchen and eat." We looked around. There sat several sickly-looking men, who appeared as if their only mission on earth was to eat clay and spit tobacco juice, and they leered at us as though we had committed the unpardonable sin. Why are we so disgracefully treated? the writer asked himself. We are clean, our deportment is good, and we are fully prepared to liquidate all bills. Ah, alas! I forgot; it is because our complexions are less fair than theirs. The day will come when the rights of men shall be respected in this

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South regardless of color, birth or previous condition. "Eat in the kitchen!" Why, indulgent reader, the kitchen was a filth hole, dark and repelling, the noisome odors of which would have attracted the attention of the health officers in any well-regulated Northern city without delay. And so we were compelled to grope around in a strange place, among strangers, until coming in contact with a large-hearted black man, a Good Samaritan in the full acceptance of the term, our wants were supplied, and we went on our way rejoicing. This is only one instance of the kind from hundreds that might be mentioned, showing that while colored men in the South are acceptable as farm hands; while they are sought after as house servants, and permitted to almost monopolize all classes of menial employment, and the women in some instances serve as wet nurses, yet they are not good enough in the estimation of very ordinary white Southerners to hold places of official trust, or sit at the same table with them.

        In fact, occurrences on a par with the one just referred to, took place in several instances during the remainder of our journey to Ohio. Even in the city of Baltimore we were threatened with ejection from the parlor or waiting room of the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road depot, and it was only by the most persistent effort, and positive threats of a civil action against the company for damages, that we prevented the action from

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being taken. And again, in our passage from Baltimore to another locality, on the Chesapeake Bay, we were refused such reasonable and ordinary accommodation as was accorded to the average white traveler, who was able to pay for it. It is a sore affliction for men in any station in life, however ignorant and humble soever they may be to be debarred of the common courtesies and necessaries of life; but when a class of persons who have spent a portion of their days among civilized and magnanimous people, such as are to be found in many sections of the North, and who have gained such a degree of information, and culture as to know and appreciate the rights and duties of citizens to one another, are denied them in plain violation of all law, it is downright persecution and torture. There is no city in the South at the present time, where a colored gentleman can obtain first class fare at an ordinary hotel; and indeed, it would be almost at the cost of his life that even the attempt would be made in many instances. Nor is this all; in some parts of the South they not only have separate apartments provided for colored people in their rail road cars, but they have gone so far as to put benches in dilapidated box cars for their accommodation, which are at times suffered to become most intolerably filthy for the want of a little attention. And this practice is even carried to street cars in some cities, where the anxious patron is compelled to await the arrival of one bearing

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the legend "Colored People's Car," or else walk to his place of destination. But all the objects of interest are now examined. Let us return to the house and assist the women and children in their preparations for the prosecution of our journey; for there are fifteen miles before us yet to be traveled before we seek repose. The children must be well wrapped too, for we are in the vicinity of the Great Dismal Swamp, and when the sun has set the atmosphere will be impregnated with noisome vapors freighted with miasma whence spring so many of the destructive diseases, of which the South is so prolific. In the meantime, cousin Henry, let me insist that you do slacken your speed in the future for it will not be at all agreeable to be left behind in this lonesome neighborhood. On our way hither you left us so far behind that we came near losing ourselves, but, thanks to a pair of vigorous lungs we were enabled to attract your attention and arrest your speed.

        Once more we are safely mounted, and away. Good bye Mr. Hill and family! Good bye Oriole! May you both prosper and live long.

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CHAPTER V.

        Lowlands of the Carolinas.--Spring Freshets.--Famine Threatened.--Mail Carrier Up a Tree.--Unhealthy Localities.--Rice Culture.--Sufferings of Hands.--The Great Dismal Swamp.--Appearance and Extent.--The Robber's Stronghold.--Henry Berry Lowrie.--He Defies the Militia of a Whole State.--His Audacious Bearing.--A Confrere Hung.--Lowrie is Wounded and finally Killed.--The Fugitive's Retreat.--Uncle Pompey's Experience.

        In some sections of the South, in the vicinity of the Atlantic Ocean and the large rivers tributary thereto, are to be seen many of those dark, gloomy and forbidding places commonly known as swamps. This is especially true of the eastern half of the territory forming the States of North and South Carolina, through which flow the Neuse, Cape Fear, Pedee, and Wateree Rivers; places which are not surpassed for wild scenery and natural ferocity, so to speak, by any of those African jungles with which the writings of Livingstone, Stanley, Cameron, and other explorers, have made us familiar. Nor is it necessary to depart from the ordinary avenues of travel in order to experience the truthfulness of the foregoing statement. Many of the most frequented highways, and even railroads, lead through these districts, affording a most excellent opportunity of

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observation to the tourist and traveler. In many instances the difficulties encountered in constructing railroads are enormous, and to people not possessing genuine pluck, skill and endurance, they would be insurmountable. Passengers who have traveled over the road running from Wilmington North Carolina, to Charleston and Columbia, South Carolina, will readily recall to mind a high trestle work, several miles in extent, over which trains are borne while passing through one of these inhospitable localities. The sudden change from the pines and sands encountered on the eastern coast of North Carolina, and the comforts and luxuries of city life, to the bogs and fens of the swamp districts, must be seen and experienced in order to be properly appreciated. However, to see them in all their prodigality, one should visit these sections in the springtime of the year, during the falling of the March and April showers. Then the rivers and their tributaries occasionally rise to such an extent as to overflow their banks and inundate all the neighboring land. On such occasions ordinary business is almost completely suspended, and the attention of all is turned not only to the protection of their property, but of even human life; and it is not an uncommon occurrence for all the live stock contained on large plantations, such as horses, cows and pigs, to be swept away during the course of a single night. All travel is suspended, means of communication

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with the outer world being cut off until the waters subside; and in one instance, at least, the writer is reminded, there was an actual scarcity of the necessaries of life in the little village of Hudsonville for the reason last stated. One of the amusing incidents of the last freshet that we were witness to (and they are characterized by amusing as well as sad scenes) was connected with the postal service of the village. Hobbs was the mail agent; he had been prior to the war a slave; hence he was poor and had not the most approved facilities for conveying the mail from the nearest rail road station to the post office, a distance of fourteen miles. At the accustomed hour, on the occasion referred to, the greater portion of the male inhabitants of the place went to the post office, as was their custom, to await the arrival and distribution of the mail; but as time wore on and the mail did not arrive, they betook them to their homes in a disappointed frame of mind. On the following morning a courier arrived direct from Hobbs, bearing the information that he had started with his mail bag on the previous evening, but the freshet overtaking him he was obliged to seek safety in a tree, leaving his horse to escape as best he could, and that he was still up in the tree, where he had guarded the mail bag all the live-long night. The courier closed his statement with a most earnest request from Mr. Hobbs that relief be immediately sent to him. However, before

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assistance could be sent, Hobbs was descried in the distance, trudging faithfully along the road, with the precious burden on his shoulder, to the joy and delight of all. He had availed himself of the kind assistance of people in the vicinity, until he reached dry land, when he bid defiance to distance or the weight of his load, and started for home afoot. But he was not always so fortunate, for on another occasion he was shut out from us, and we were deprived of the benefits of the mail for nearly a whole week, without intermission.

        It may seem strange to many persons living at distances remote from these swamps, upon high and well drained land, that an intelligent class of persons could be induced to locate in close proximity to them, when there is so much land better adapted to the wants of man; especially since the atmosphere in this vicinity during certain seasons of the year is so thoroughly impregnated with miasm as to breed diseases of various kinds which bring in their train suffering and death. This action on their part may be attributed to various influences, such as the well known influences of nativity and pecuniary interest, inability to dispose of one's possessions at what he considers a reasonable value of them, the extra fertility of the river lands, and especially the fact that, in many cases, the owners of the swamp lands were originally engaged in the cultivation of rice; a product very profitable as an

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article of commerce and at the same time requiring a low, wet soil for its production. In the now historical days of slavery in this country, these very swamps were the embodiments of hell upon earth, and more than one poor man and woman, who was compelled to labor in them up to their knees in mud and water, if they were alive, could by their broken constitutions, scarred backs and debased intellects, bear witness to the veracity of this statement. Kind reader if your humanity has been spared the shock of beholding the poorly fed bodies of these human chattels clad in filthy rags grubbing in these rice swamps, with their wives and little ones beside them, while the suckling babe at the quarters moaned for its mother that came not to minister its scanty needs, thank God that your lot has been cast in other times and a more genial clime.

        Such a district as we have been describing we were to traverse, and even while these thoughts have been revolving in our mind, we have neared the "Great Dismal Swamp." The writer has never consulted any authoritative record with reference to the dimensions of this swamp, but judging from the statements of the inhabitants in that locality, it covers an area of more than ten square miles. The waters of this swamp are for the greater part covered with a rich green scum, suggestive of fevers and agues; the cypress trees which are indigenous to it are curtained and fringed with a

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heavy drapery of gray moss, which depends like a heavy pall from the limbs that shoot out horizontally from the bodies thereof; and no man has yet fathomed all the mysteries of its dark and forbidding fastnesses, which are said to be the haunts of all that is vile and hurtful either of beasts, birds, reptiles, or even humanity, peculiar to that part of the South. Within its recesses the wild boar and black bear fraternize with each other; the moccasin and the poisonous rattlesnake intertwine in deadly embrace; while the highway robber and libertine, secure within its haunts, hold high carnival together. It makes one shudder to recall the gloomy place to mind and the terrible legends connected with it. But to appreciate this feeling, heightened and intensified in the bosom until it becomes to be a veritable horror, one must pass through this section after night-fall: when the light of the moon and stars is veiled by the thick fogs and mists that overhang it, and almost Egyptian darkness pervades the atmosphere; and the hootings of the night owl and the harsh croakings of the multitudinous amphibious creatures are heard, and a certain damp chill possesses the blood, causing one to involuntarily draw his cloak more tightly around him, and cluteh his bridle and revolver, as he anxiously spurs forward his excited horse to a less dismal locality. It was in this swamp that the Lowrie brothers, championed by the redoubtable Henry Berry Lowrie made their place

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of resort; from whence he issued his commands to the inhabitants of the surrounding country, which were almost implicitly obeyed, and filled all with consternation by reason of his frequent incursions; and it was in the interior of this very swamp where he had his den established when visited by a representative of the New York Herald, in the year 1870, for the purpose of obtaining an interview, an achievement never attempted nor even thought of by any of the provincial papers in "Dixie's Land."

        It appears that during the Southern rebellion various and sundry acts of ill-treatment had been visited upon different members of the Lowrie family, which extended to the murdering of one or more of them by persons connected with the Confederate service. To avenge these wrongs and compensate their injured feelings, the brothers Lowrie took the field, or swamp, where ere long they were joined by other kindred spirits in that locality, to the number of a dozen or more. They were thoroughly armed, and fully resolved on mischief. After night-fall they were in the habit of scouring the neighborhood, plundering hen-roosts, burning barns and dwellings, and in some instances murdering men. They lugged off their booty into the swamp and devoured it, when they were ready to engage in other enterprises. One of their gang was captured, tried, convicted and hung. Dire were the threats thrown out against every man of

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any standing in that community by Lowrie and his confreres, conditioned upon the execution of their brother robber; loud were their curses; but they availed not; he was hung at the appointed time, and the majesty of the law vindicated. The chief and his gang became finally to be so audacious that at times they would actually present themselves at the railroad stations, armed cap-a-pie, to the great embarrassment of every one. On such occasions they would demand, and generally received the latest newspapers, containing in some instances full accounts of their diabolical doings; they cracked jokes and laughed heartily over them, and then departed for parts unknown. So great was the apprehension on the part of the substantial residents in that vicinity that they not only offered a large reward for the body of the ringleader, dead or alive, but also procured a much larger reward to be offered by the State officials; and as a last resort, by command of the Governor, all the available troops of the State of North Carolina, numbering several thousands, under capable officers, were marched to the margin of the swamp and encamped. Here they remained for a lengthy period of time, experiencing all the incidents, save physical wounds, incidental to actual warfare. They stretched a cordon of troops for a long distance on the margin of the swamp, in the vain endeavor to entrap him; and sent out scouts and spies to ferret him out of his hiding

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place. Vain hope! All these efforts were destined to prove abortive; and the uniformed militia, after indulging their vanity and rubbing up their tactics for as long a time as the State would endure the expense, marched their troops back again and disbanded them, to be referred to by future historians and placed by the side of the illustrious individual of whom the poet sings:


                         "The King of the French, with sixty thousand men,
                         Marched up the hill, and then marched down again."

        There is an end to all things terrestrial however, and the career of Henry Berry Lowrie was no exception to the rule. He was finally surprised and shot while seeking shelter and medical care in the house of a relative, and thus ended the career of a man who in a just cause could have earned undying honors, but by the force of circumstances was led to pursue a course which both stamped his name with infamy and brought desolation and grief into many households. After his death the band dispersed and so far as the writer knows ceased their organized depredations.

        There is just one other association connected with this dismal swamp, which the writer will glance at before closing this chapter: We refer to the fact that, in the reign of the slave driver and blood hound in the sunny South, many a poor panting fugitive dragged his lacerated limbs within its dark recesses, where for months, subsisting upon such animal and vegetable food

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as he could gather, with a gnarled root for his pillow, and the broad canopy of Heaven spread out over him, he found that freedom and respite from his woes which the laws of his native land refused him.

        Of these, scores might be mentioned by name; but suffice it to speak of just one, at this place. He was an aged man; he said his name was Pompey; we met him on a "First Monday," on the Public Square, in Hudson ville, where he had wandered in search of a little assistance in the evening of his eventful life.

        "Honey," he said, "whar did you come from? You is from de Norf, ain't you?"

        "Why do you ask me that question, uncle? do I look like a Yankee?"

        "Well no, you looks like our people, but den dare is somefin bout yer way of talkin dat souns like de Norf."

        "Well, to be truthful with you, uncle, I was born in the South, but raised in the North."

        "Jest as I spected. Den you don't know nuffin bout de hard trials of de cullud people in dis part of de country, does yer?"

        "Well no, uncle, except what I have read, and heard from the lips of the old folks. I suppose you know a good deal about them."

        "Well, does you see dat scar ober dat eye? Dat was made by a rawhide in de hans ob de oberseer; an dat

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mark on my neck dar was made by one of Mars George's houns; dey had me buried in de groun up to my arms, and de dog he got loose an bit me, an ef dey hadn't took him offen me as soon as dey did, he would or killed me. But that's nothin; ef you end see my back, honey, yer wouldn't ask me any more ef I no ennything bout ole slave days. Once I run away, an lived in de big swamp fer more'n three months. I staid in dat swamp tell I didn't have nuff close hardly to cover a skeeter. (an de skeeters was mighty big down dar) an I guess I would er died thar ef Mars George hadn't sent one ob de hans an promised me dat ef I wud come back, de oberseer shouldn't whip me enny more; an he kep his word an I neber got anodder whippin after dat. An to tell you de troof, chile, I was glad nuff to git out ob dat swamp an git some more close on agin, fer it was almos' as bad as deth to live in dar wid de snakes an varmints. At fust it made me sick, but arter I hed lived in dar about a monf, I wus as hard as a litewood not, an nuffin cud hurt me."

        Poor old man; he was scarred, and crippled, and bent with age, but he had lived to see the dawn of glorious liberty, and like a good old christian that he was, he thanked God and took courage.

        But where are we now? We have left the Dismal Swamp far behind, we have passed the thirty-five mile post, and already Brown, who has from the beginning

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of the journey taken the lead, has driven up to the gate in front of a rude log house and lowered the bars. It is the house of an acquaintance, we suppose, where we are to seek repose during the remainder of the night; and we are all rejoiced, for we are weary with the excitement and turmoil of the day, and sadly in need of rest.

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CHAPTER VI.

        The Bell Homestead.--Accommodations for the Night.--The Black Cat.--My Wife Alarmed.--An Unfortunate Throw, and Alarm of the Family.--Mine Host Jones, and the Writer Adjourn to the Yard.--Snake Stories.--Snakes in the House; in the Bed; in the Mill.--Snake Bites and Whiskey Treatment.--"Coachwhip Snake."--Snakes for Food.--Medicine and Music.--Reminiscences of the Slaveholding Era, by Jones.--The Men and Women who Cleared and Cultivated these Lands.--The Whip.--The Auction Block.--The Stocks.--Insufficient Food.--Dawn of Day.

        The Bell homestead was a typical one in that portion of the South, and presuming that a majority of our readers have never visited that interesting section, we shall essay a description of it. The lot of land on which the house was built was enclosed by a fence made of slats, which were wattled instead of being nailed on. The house was constructed of logs; the crevices or chinks between which were filled with clay, by which means the inclement elements were kept out. The chimney to this house was constructed of short poles so piled as to lap each other at the corners, until they reached a sufficient height: the whole was then plastered over with clay both within and without. Instead of sash containing panes of glass, the windows, which were merely square apertures, were provided with "shutters," hung with strap

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hinges and having hooks and staples for fastenings; the roof was covered with slats similar to those of which the fence was constructed and the whole presented a very unique appearance; carrying the mind back to the advent of the early settlers in this country. On the outside of this house, between each window and the door in the center, was hung a stretched coon skin in course of bring "cured" for the market. The interior of this primitive house was scarcely less romantic in appearance. The fire place was capacious, sufficiently so to allow of a whole log of wood being put on the large iron andirons at one time, while the sooty trammels suspended in the center, seemed to await the advent of the big pot in the corner, containing its accustomed supply of fat meat, collards and dumplings for the daily dinner. In one corner of the house was a large blue chest, the counter-part, I imagine, of the one that tradition tells us a fair damsel in that locality, "upon a time," hid her greatly embarrassed bean in, upon the sudden coming of her austere sire. This chest served a triple purpose; it contained all the spare bed clothing and wearing apparrel of the family, furnished seating for at least three persons during the day, and answered the purpose of a bedstead upon which one of the younger members of the family was accustomed to sleep at night.

        There was only one bedstead in the house, and this was very considerately placed at the disposal of Mrs.

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Brown, who had the care of an infant not exceeding three months in age. Brown himself had left the remainder of the company, in quest of recreation as well as to try to "see a man" in that neighborhood who had a brother in New York that had been to him a boon companion during his sojurn there, prior to locating in Hudsonville. Mr. and Mrs. Jones and my own dear better half were given pallets on the floor, upon which to fight mosquitoes and seek repose, and, the night being warm and sultry, the absence of ordinary bed clothing was not regretted. Under the influence of the fatigue that was oppressing the writer, not many moments elapsed before he was within the kindly embrace of Morpheus, enjoying the sweets of nature's balmy restorer; in other words, asleep. I had not slept more than thirty seconds, as it seemed to me, though in reality about two hours, when I was awakened from my slumber and again confronted with the realities of this practical life by hearing my wife exclaim "scat!" I sprang to my feet and demanded of her the cause of her alarm, when gasping, she whispered: "See that cat over there! See how his eyeballs flash!"

        "Where?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

        "Over there; don't you see him?"

        "What is it, my dear?" I said. "I don't see anything; it's too dark to see."

        "Well, I guess you can see that cat's big eyes

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flashing over in the direction of your left hand, can't you? you old sleepy head, you," she fairly shouted. "Anything could carry Johnnie away for aught that you care for him. You have been sleeping here just like a log, while I have been trying to keep that miserable old cat from sucking his breath or eating his nose off."

        "There, there, my love," I said; "don't fret now, and just see how I shall punish that feline. I will let him know that there be powers upon earth competent to pursue, overtake and punish evildoers; and if he don't spot me as his Nemesis from this night onward then I ain't worth a cent for a throw." So saying, I summoned all the powers within me, and hurled one of my boots in the direction of the "flashing eyes." Jones sprang to his feet and, at the top of his voice, inquired whether the lightning had struck any one else. The whole family was now thoroughly aroused; a tallow dip was lit; an explanation followed, and it was definitely ascertained that the injury sustained by Jones was not of a serious nature.

        After this occurrence, the most earnest persuasion failed to induce our injured companion to lie down upon his pallet again; and as the night was already far spent, it was unanimously concluded by the three that we should adjourn to the bench under the tree in the front yard, where we could improve the balance of the night

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while the women and children were sleeping. Once there, I asked Mr. Bell why he kept such a big cat around the house, inasmuch as her practices were of a character most dangerous to little children, of which he had several. "Oh," said Mr. Bell, "I don't know what's the matter with that cat to-night. He never did act so before, and we've raised im from a little kitten. He never dreamed of troubling any of my children. Mebbe it's because your baby is a strange one. Have yer got any 'backer, stranger?" he said, digressing, as he turned to Jones. He was answered in the affirmative. "I wish yer would gimme a chaw; mine's in the house, an I don't like to worry the wimmin enny more tonight. Another thing," he continued, "that cat's one of the best mousers in the world; and as fer ketchin' snakes and lizards, he can't be beat. Why, partner, he handles a snake jest like enny dog, ef yer can call it handlin' when a critter ain't got enny hands; an I wish yer could jest see him once. Last fall, jest afore cold weather, my little Tommy, the red headed one that Brown took sich a shine to this evenin', was playin' behint the shed door, an' the ole ooman went ter see what mischief he was in, cause he kep so still, (an' that's a shore sign of mischief among children) when lo an' behold, rite in a box that sot behint the door, quiled up thar lay a snake! an' the young un he stood thar with a stick in his little han', jest in the act of strikin' uv it. The ole ooman didn't

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say a single word; she jest took the chile by his han' an' led him away, then she got 'Old Sam,' that's the cat, an' put him on that varmint; an' pardner you kin believe what I tell you or not, jest as you please, but its the Lord's truth howsumever, the cat took that snake by the back of the head with his mouth an' give it one jerk, an' made it crack like a whip; he jerked every bone in its body loose; an' when he put it down it had no more life in it than a wooden snake."

        Great surprise was expressed, by us at the wonderful familiarity of the snake, in entering the house so unceremoniously. "Pshaw," said Bell, "that's not a sarcumstance! Why last summer, in August, I think, Jim Cross, who lives on Uncle Sandy Glover's plantation, woke up one mornin' feelin' somethin' crawlin' over him; he did'nt tech it; he jest raised up his head a leetle bit and seed it was a rattle snake about four feet long; then he lay down agin an let it pass over him. Cause yer see, he was afeerd that ef he tried to git away, the snake would take the hint and bite him--see?" We answered that we did see very plainly indeed.

        "Well my friend," I said, "snakes must be no strangers to you people around here, at that rate."

        "No siree," said Mr. Bell, "they aint; an what's more'n that, we uses them: in some cases, we makes them arn ther livin."

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        "Earn their living! why what do you mean, my friend?" I said.

        "I mean what I say," he replied, "Ole Mr. Jenkins, over thar that runs the grist mill, has got two white moccasins, that he has trained to ketch rats an mice, an you can't find a rat or a mouse about his mill fer money; but afore he got them snaix, he could'nt git rid uv sich critters. Them snaix goes into every hole and crack about the mill, whar dogs an' cats can't go; an' wharever they go, the varmints leave."

        "How is it," we inquired, "that some of you don't get bit, seeing that snakes are crawling around so promiscuously?"

        "Lawful sakes, man, we does. It ain't been a month sence a ooman was bit near the big swamp by a rattlesnake, an' she turned as black as that cat they say, (I didn't see her); an' all that the doctors could do for her didn't save her; she died."

        "Do the bites of snakes always prove so fatal?" we asked.

        "Well, no; not ef yer begins in time. Thar was a boy bit around here a year or two ago by a rattlesnake, an' he didn't die. His mother follered the docter's directions to a T, an' he got over it. The docter told her not ter give him enny water for nine days--nothin' but tea; an' she didn't. Some mothers I know would ef given it to him, fer the boy cried an' begged for water

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untel it almost broke the poor mother's heart, but nary a drop did she give 'im. Bimeby the boy got well; an' he's runnin' around now as lively as ennybody. But there's other ways uv treatin' uv 'em. Some docters foller the whiskey treatment; that is ter say they giv' 'em nothin' but whiskey; keep 'em filled up with it tell the danger is over; an' they say it's the shorest an' easiest way uv doctorin' for snake bites uv 'em all. A feller by the name uv Bill Bedford got bit over at Kane's Mill-pond last spring. He had some whiskey in his pocket in a bottle, an' without waitin' fer docter or enny body else he up an' drunk the hull uv it. Then he went home an' sent fer the docter, an' the docter give him more an kep' him under the influence uv it fer more'n nine days, an' he got well."

        During the narration of the last incident, Brown had come upon the scene, and stood apparently deeply absorbed in thought while the mysteries of the whiskey treatment were being unfolded by our host. At its conclusion he desired to know whether that school of medicine was still in vogue there, and, on being answered in the affirmative, exclaimed, "Well, then, fetch along your snakes, gentlemen!"

        "Where on earth have you been, Brown!" exclaimed Jones. "Here the children has been crying, and cousin John has tried to knock my brains out throwing at the cat, and nowhere could you be found."

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        "Oh," said Brown, "I went down the road a little piece to see a man, and met some of the boys, and we have been having a good time talking over old times, and I was I telling them about New York."

        "New York!" said Jones. "Yes, when you come to die your last words will be 'New York;' and I'll be blessed if I don't have it engraved on your tombstone. You had better have been here looking after your wife and child."

        Brown suggested that Jones would not live to see his journey's end unless he kept out of the way of my boots, judging from the big knot on his forehead. This remark brought forth a laugh at Jones' expense, in which all four participated.

        "Well," continued Bell; "let me finish my snake stories; you interrupted me. I have known people here-abouts ter use rattlesnake grease fer rheumatism an' toothache, or nooralgy, as they call it. They ketch the snake, cut off his he'd an' stew out the fat. It's then bottled up an' ready fer use in time of need."

        "Impossible!" I said.

        "It's the Lord's truth, pardner; an', what's more, they do say (now mind, I hain't dun it meself,) that ther meat is good ter eat, purvidin' yer kin git it afore the pizen leaves the he'd and gits in the tail uv the snake." (We all laughed.) "An'," continued he, "the

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fiddlers 'bout here couldn't git along without rattlesnake rattles fer ther fiddles."

        "Is that so?" I said.

        "But," he continued, taking no notice of the interruption, "the snake they call the coach whip is the rascal of a snake. They ketch yer an' whip yer ontel yer is almost ded. Once I was goin' thro' the Peters' woods, an' I heerd sich a hollerin', an' a hollerin', I didn't know what ter think uv it; so I ups and hollers, too. Then I listens, an' I heers somebody say, 'O, Lo'd, de snake is killin' me!' I grabs a stick an' I runs in the direction uv the noise, an' shore enuf thar was one uv Mr. Peters' hans--a big, strappin' feller--standin' holdin' to a tree, an' the coach-whip he had got his collar in his mouth an' was wallopin' the life out uv him with his tail."

        "Call him off!" exclaimed Brown; "my head swims."

        "Buddy," said Jones, "can't you just stop a minute 'till I get my breath."

        The writer said, "Let's change the subject," and that was the last we heard of snakes on that eventful night.

        "Who did you buy this place of, Bell?" asked Jones.

        "I bought it uv ole Huckleby."

        "Is that so? I guess he's gone to get his just desserts at last."

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        "Yes," said Bell, "he died last January: an' thar was'nt enny uv his old slaves at his funeral; in fac', nobody seemed to have a good word to say for him."

        "Indeed!" said Brown, "that reminds me of an old fellow who died in New York, when I was there; and when he was buried, no one of all who stood around his grave had a good word to say for him, because he had lived such a miserly life; finally, as the clods began to fall upon his box, and make a hollow sound, one Mr. Schneider who stood by, sighed deeply and exclaimed--"vell, he vass a goot schmoker any vay!"

        "Oh, Brown, do go along!" exclaimed cousin Henry, "you are always putting in a lot of nonsense. I believe if you were at the funeral of your best friend you would crack a joke at his expense, even if it killed you."

        "Colonel Huckleby," said Jones, "was one of the most cruel slave-owners I ever knew, and I have known some pretty hard cases in my time. It was a common saying all through this country that you could tell one of Huckleby's slaves at sight, from his scared appearance and disheartened look. He was the only man in this part of the So