naturally and necessarily to remain of the character and capacity stamped on their faces—as is probably the opinion of their owner, in common with most wealthy South Carolina planters—I don't know that they could be much less miserably situated, or guided more for their own good and that of the world, than they were. They were fat enough, and didn't look as if they were at all overworked, or harassed by cares, or oppressed by a consciousness of their degradation. If that is all—as some think.
Afterwards, while we were changing at a house near a crossing of roads, strolling off in the woods for a short distance, I came upon two small white-topped waggons, each with a pair of horses feeding at its pole; near them was a dull camp fire, with a bake-kettle and coffee-pot, some blankets and a chest upon the ground, and an old negro sitting with his head bowed down over a meal sack, while a negro boy was combing his wool with a common horse-card. "Good evening, uncle," said I, approaching them. "Good evening, sar," he answered, without looking up.
"Where are you going?"
"Well, we ain't gwine nower, master; we's peddlin' tobacco roun."
"Where did you come from?"
"From Rockingham County, Norf Car'lina, master."
"How long have you been coming from there?"
"'Twill be seven weeks, to-morrow, sar, sin we leff home."
"Have you most sold out?"
"We had a hundred and seventy-five boxes in both waggons, and we's sold all but sixty. Want to buy some tobacco, master?" (Looking up.)
"No, thank you; I am only waiting here, while the coach changes. How much tobacco is there in a box?"
"Seventy-five pound."
