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them, the taste displayed in their gardens,
etc.; for every man has all the material and
time at his command to make himself and
his family as comfortable as he pleases. Ihe
huts of some bore as happy nn air as one
might desire; neat palings enclosed them ;
the gardens were full of flowers, and bloom
ing vines clambered over the doors and win
dows. Others, again, had been suffered by
the idle occupants to fall into sad decay; no
evidence of taste or industry was to be seen
in their hingeless doors, their fallen fences,
or their weed-grown gardens. These lazy
fellows were accustomed even to cut down
•the shade-trees which had been kindly plant
ed before their homes, rather than walk a few
yards further for other and even better fuel.
The more industrious of the negroes here, as
elsewhere, employ their leisure hours, which
are abundant, in the culture of vegetables,
and in raising fowls, which they sell to their
masters, and thus supply themselves with the
means to purchase many little luxuries of life.
For necessaries they have no concern, since
they are amply and generously provided with
all which they can require. Others who will
not thus work for their pin-money, are de
pendant upon the kindness of their masters,
or more frequently upon their ingenuity at
thieving. Many of them sell to their master
in the morning the produce they have stolen
from him the previous night. At least, they
all manage to keep their purses filled ; and I
was assured that not one, had he occasion or
desire to visit Charleston or Augusta, but
could readily produce the means to defray
his expenses. One old woman was pointed
out to me, who had several times left the
plantation with permission to remain away
as long as she pleased ; yet, although her ab
sences were sometimes of long continuance,
she was too wise not to return to a certain
and good home. Wander how and whither
she would, in due time her heart would join
the burden of the sing :
“ Oh ! carry me back to old Virginny,
To old Virginny's shore!”
While once visiting some friends in Caro
lina, I had the pleasure of witnessing the bri
dal festivities of one of the servants of the
family, a girl of some eighteen years. The
occasion was one of those pleasant things
which long hold place in the memory. For
days previous, the young ladies of the house
hold gaily busied themselves in kind prepa
rations for the event; in instructions to the
bride, in the preparation of her white muslin
. robe, of her head-dress, and other portions of
her toilet, in writing her notes of invitation
to her sable friends —Mr. Sambo Smith, or
Miss Clara Brown, according to the baptis
mals of their respective masters, whose names
the negroes of the South always assume. In
my quality of artist, 1 had the pleasure to
expend my water colors in wreathes of roses,
and pictures of cupids, hearts and darts, and
so on, upon the icings of the cakes which the
young ladies had prepared for the bridal
feast; and who knows but that my chef d'-
(Liivres were consumed by ebony lips on that
memorable night! The ceremony took place
in the cabin of the bride, and in presence of
the whites—and then followed revelry, feast
ing and dancing upon the lawn, much to the
delight of the happy pair and their dark
friends, and scarcely less to the pleasure of
the bride’s kind mistresses and myself, who
witnessed their sports from the parlor win
dows. By the way, when you journey in
the South, line your pockets with tobacco,
dispense it generously to the darkies, and
they are your friends for life.
As I have said, Woodlands and its vicin
'age will enlighten you as to the genus of the
scenery of all the low-lands of the South.
This genus , however, you will find as ycu
ramble from the sea-board towards the inte
rior, subdivided into many species, each wide
ly varying from the other. Upon the sea
board, and its many lovely and luxuriant isl
ands, you will find the beau ideal of Southern
§©©‘u , oi§{Rffl kaIfIBIB A(E ¥ SASBTfTFS*
soil, climate, vegetation, architecture, and
character. Here abound those lovely inlets
and bays, which make up for the absence of
the lake-scenery of the North. These bay
ous and lakelets are covered with the rank
est tropical vegetation ; they abound in eve
ry species of wild fowl—birds of the most
gorgeous plumage, songsters of the sweetest
notes —the mocking-bird and the nightingale,
the robin, and a host of other equally cele
brated warblers. Here, the foliage is so
dense and rich in form and color, that a poor
imagination will readily people the spot with
elves and sprites; and there, again, so dark
and solemn are the caverns, overshadowed by
the impenetrable roofs of leaves, that you
may readily interpret the screech of the owl,
the groan of the bull-frog, and the hiss of the
serpent into the unearthly wail of damned
spirits. These are fitting haunts for the sad
and contemplative mind at the witching hour
of night.
Here, the rice and sugar plantations abound.
Many of them are of great extent, some of
the planters employing several hundred slaves.
The white population is thus necessarily
thin, yet opulent. The cabins of the negroes
on these extensive domains, surrounding the
mansion and its many out-buildings of the
proprietor, give to every settlement the aspect
of a large and thriving village. There is
something peculiarly fascinating in this spe
cies of softened feudal life. The slaves are,
for the most part, warmly attached to their
masters, and they watch over their interests
as they would their own. Indeed, they con
sider themselves part and parcel of tlmir mas
ter’s family. They bear his name, they share
his bounty, and their fortune depends wholly
upon his. Through life they have every
comfort; the family physician attends them
when sick, and in their old age and imbecili
ty, they are well protected. They glory in
their master’s success and happiness; their
pride is in exact proportion to the rank of the
family they serve; and, whatever that may
he, they still cherish a haughty and self-sat
isfied contempt for “poor white folks.”
“Go ’way, Sambo,” I once heard one of
these jovial lads exclaim to another, whose
ill-fortune it was to serve a less opulent plan
ter than himself; “go ’way, Sambo, your
massa only got fifty niggers ; my massa got
hundred!” And he pulled up his shirt-col
lar, and marched pompously off with the step
and air of a millionaire.
The masters, themselves, descended from
an old chevalier stock; and, accustomed
through many generations to the seclusion ot
country life, and that life under Southern
skies, and surrounded with all the appliances
of wealth and homage, have acquired an ease,
a grace, a generosity, and largeness of char
acter, incompatible with the daily routine of
the petty occupations, stratagems, and strug
gles of modern commercial and metropolitan
life, be it in the South or the North.
Where the swamps and bayous do not ex
tend, the country, still flat, is mostly of a rich
sandy soil, which deeply tinges the waters of
all the rivers from the Atlantic to the Missis
sippi. This is the grand characteristic of
the southern portions of all the Gulf States.
The rivers, as they extend towards the inte
rior, are lined with high sandy bluffs, which,
still further northward, give place, in their
turn, to mountain-ledges and granite-walls.
These streams, from the Mississippi to the
Alabama, the Chattahoochee and the Savan
nah. to the smaller rivers of Carolina and
Florida, are filled with sandy islands, ever
changing their position and form. Frequent
high freshets occur in them, completely alter
ing their channels, and hearing away the pro
duce of whole plantations, from the cotton
bale to the family domicil, and the century
aged tree which shaded it. In crossing the
smaller water-courses of the South, I have
often observed marks of the extent of a fresh
et upon high trees at an elevation of fifty or
sixty feet above my head. They are some-
times an excessive bore to the hurried travel
er, holding him water-bound for days togeth
er, and invariably in places where, of all oth
ers, he does not love to tarry.
I happened to be in Augusta, some years
ago, during a great rise in the waters of the
Savannah. In the course of some few hours,
the river had extended its limits throughout
the city, and over the plain for miles in every
direction. It was a novel and beautiful sight
to gaze, from your balcony, upon this un
looked-for Venice. Boats were sailing in
every direction through the streets —even the
ponderous crafts of the Savannah, capable of
holding fifty or sixty men. I observed the
pretty vessel of the “Augusta Boat Club,’’
dashing up Broad-street and under the hotel
windows, with the crew in full dress, music
sounding, and gay banners waving upon the
air! A ferry was established to pick up pas
sengers at their doors or windows, and con
vey them to the base of the Sand-hills, a
summer retreat, some three miles to the north
ward. The cross-streets, leading from the
river, were washed away to the depth of ma
ny feet, and for days afterwards passengers
were transported across them in fiats and bat
teaux.
From these freshets, with the innumerable
stagnant pools which they leave, together
with the miasma arising from immense quan
tities of decaying vegetable matter, spring ma
ny of the local fevers and diseases of the
South. In Augusta, the yellow fever fol
lowed the great freshet, and carried du
ring the brief space of a few weeks, nearly
three hundred of the inhabitants. This ter
rible scourge had not previously visited the
city for eighteen years.
Now that we are chatting, dear reader, of
the low-lands of the South, it would be plea
sant to recall other apropos scenes and inci
dents of travel; Savannah and its miniature
parks ; Tallahassee and its orange-trees; St.
Augustine and its balmy air; Mobile and its
noble bay; New Orleans and its hundred at
tractive features; hut it is time that we should
hasten on to the mountains. I leave you
here, the more abruptly, perhaps, from the
remembrance that my first visit to the hill-re
gion of Carolina involved a very abrupt de
parture from the lower portions of the State.
It so happened, that a sensitive friend, voya
ging with me, was suffering from a slight at
tack of that terrible epidemic, which the
French materia medica calls la grande pas
sion, and which he had lately caught frem the
bright eyes of fair demoiselle from Yankee
land, then journeying in the South, with the
ostensible purpose of recruiting her health.
Whatever the actual condition of the lady’s
pulse, it is very certain that the heart of my
affected companion was heating with fearful
rapidity. While we were speculating upon
our mountain tour, as a thing to be done at
some future period of leisure, the ladies (of
course there’s a dowager in the case,) an
nounced their purpose of at once following the
very route we were contemplating. They
went —and what could we possibly do, but
follow l
A DOMESTIC PICTURE.
Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire,
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Blest that abode where want and pain repair,
And every stranger finds a ready chair;
Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jest or pranks that never fail;
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale ;
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.—Goldsmith.
Not So Bad. —Twenty years ago, it was
common to trim straw bonnets with artificial
wheat and barley in ears, on which the fol
lowing lines were written;
W ho now of threatening famine dare complain,
When every female’s forehead teems with grain 1
See how the wheat sheaves nod amid the plumes !
Our barns uro now transferred to drawing roomiJ,
And husbands who indulge in active lives,
To fill their granaries may thrash their wives.
Popular ftalcs.
From the Literary World,
THE MAN IN THE RESERVOIR.
A FANTASIE PIECE.
BV CHARLES FENNO HOFF MA V
You may see some of the best society in
New York on the top of the Distributing R e
servoir, any of these fine October morning*
There were two or three carriages in waiting
and half a dozen senatorial-looking mothers
with young children, pacing the parapet as
we basked there the other cay in the sunshine
—now watching the pickerel that glide along
the lucid edges of the black pool within, and
now looking off upon the scene of rich and
wondrous variety that spreads along the two
rivers on either side.
“They may talk of Alpheus and Arethu
sa,” murmured an idling sophomore, who had
found his way thither during recitation hours,
but the Croton in passing over an arm of the
sea at Spuyten-duyvil, and bursting to sight
again in this truncated pyramid, beats it all
hollow. By George, too, the Bay yonder
looks as blue as ever the iEgean Sea to By
ron’s eye, gazing from the Acropolis! But
the painted foliage on those crags!—the
Greeks must have dreamed of such a vegeta
ble phenomenon in the midst of their greyish
olive groves, or they never would have sup
plied the want of it in their landscape by em
broidering their marble temples with gay co
lors. Did you see that pike break, Sir ?”
“ I did not.”
“Zounds! his silver fin flashed upon the
black Acheron, like a restless soul that hoped
yet to mount from the pool.”
“ The place seems suggestive of fancies to
you,” we observed, in reply to the rattle-pate.
“It is, indeed, for I have done up a good
deal of anxious thinking within a circle of a
few yards where that fish broke just now.”
“ A singular place for meditation—the mid
dle of the reservoir.”
“You look incredulous, Sir—but it’s a
fact. A fellow can never tell, until he is
tried, in what situation his most earnest med
itations may be concentrated. lam boring
you, though!”
“ Not at all. But you seem so familiar
with the spot, I wish you could tell me why
that ladder leading down to the water is lash
ed against the stone-work in yonder corner.”
“That ladder,” said the young man, bright
ening at the question, “ why, the position,
perhaps the very existence of that ladder, re
sulted from my meditations in the reservoir,
at which you smiled just now. Shall 1 tell
you all about them V J
“ Pray do.”
“ Well, you have seen the notice forbidding
any one to fish in the reservoir. Now, when
I read that warning, the spirit of the thing
struck me at once, as inferring that one should
not sully the temperance potations of our cit
izens by steeping bait in it, of any kind; but
you probably know the common way of tak
ing pike with a slip-noose of delicate wire. 1
was determined to have a touch at the fellows
with this kind of tackle.
“ I chose a moonlight night, and an hour
before the edifice was closed to visitors. I
secreted myself within the walls, determined
to pass the night on the top. All went as 1
could wish it. The night proved cloudy, hut
it was only a variable drift of clouds which
obscured the moon. I had a walking-cane
rod with me, which would reach to the mar
gin of the water, and several feet beyond, if
necessary. To this was attached the wire,
about fifteen inches in length.
“ I prowled along the parapet for a consid
erable time, but not a single fish could I see.
The clouds made a flickering light and shade,
that wholly foiled my steadfast gaze. I was
convinced that should they come up thicker,
my whole night's adventure Avould he thrown
away. ‘Why should I not descend the slop
ing xvall, and get nearer on a level with the
fish, for thus alone can I hope to see one .
The question had hardly shaped itself in mv
mind, before I had one leg over the iron
railing.
“If you look nround you will see now that
there are some half-dozen weeds growing
here and there, among the fissures of the sol
id masonry. In one of the fissures from
whence these spring, I planted a foot, and be*
gan my descent. The reservoir was fuh ei
than it is now, and a few strides would ha v ®
carried me to the margin of the water. Hom
ing on to the cleft above, 1 felt round wiu*
one foot for a place to plant it below me.
“ In that moment the flap of a pound pk e
made me look round, and the roots of the
weed upon which I partially depended, g^J e
way as I was in the act of turning-