"I have heard it spoken of as a beautiful town, and there are some fine people there."
"Yes, dere's Mr. , I knows him—he's a mighty good man."
"Do you know Mr. ?"
"O yes, sar, he's a mighty fine man, he is, master; ain't no better kind of man dan him."
"Well, I must go, or the coach will be kept waiting for me. Good-bye to you."
"Far'well, master, far'well; 'pears like it's done me good to see a man dat's cum out of my country again. Far'well, master."
We took supper at a neat log-cabin, standing a short distance off the road, with a beautiful evergreen oak, the first I had observed, in front of it. There was no glass in the windows, but drapery of white muslin restrained the currents of air, and during the day would let in sufficient light, while a blazing wood-fire both warmed and lighted the room by night. A rifle and powder-horn hung near the fire-place, and the master of the house, a fine, hearty, companionable fellow, said that he had lately shot three deer, and that there were plenty of cats, and foxes, as well as turkeys, hares, squirrels, and other small game in the vicinity. It was a perfectly charming little backwoods farm-house—good wife, supper, and all; but one disagreeable blot darkened the otherwise most agreeable picture of rustic civilization—we were waited upon at table by two excessively dirty, slovenly-dressed, negro girls. In the rear of the cabin were two hovels, each lighted by large fires, and apparently crowded with other slaves belonging to the family.
Between nine and ten at night, we reached the end of the completed railroad, coming up in search for that we had left
