droom window, when I happened to be visiting
the family at Conacanara. Our home at Runiroi stood some distance from
the river, but the dwelling at Conacanara was upon a bluff just over
the stream.

Beside the sale crops of cotton and corn, sweet potatoes were raised
in large quantities for the negroes, to which they were allowed to
help themselves without stint, also a summer patch of coarse
vegetables such as they liked.

The regular food furnished consisted of corn meal, bacon or pickled
pork, varied with beef in the autumn, when the beeves were fat, salt
fish with less meat when desired, molasses, dried peas and pumpkins
without stint (I mean the peas and pumpkins). I don't suppose any
laboring class ever lived in such plenty.

A woman with a family of children always had the use of a cow, the
only proviso being that she should look after the calf and see that it
did not suffer, for your grandfather was particular about his ox
teams; they were the finest that I ever saw, and were well
blooded,--Holstein for size and Devon for speed and activity.

Our dairy was very pretty; it was built of immense square logs, with a
paved brick floor, and great broad shelves all around. The roof was
shaded by hackberry trees, and the grass around it was like velvet,
so thick and green. Old Aunt Betty, who was the dairy woman until she
grew too infirm, was the neatest creature imaginable; she wore the
highest of turbans, and her clothes were spotless. She took the
greatest pride in her dairy; for milk vessels she used great
calibashes with wooden covers, and, as they naturally were absorbent,
it was necessary to sun one set while another was in use. She kept
them beautifully, and the milk and butter were delicious.

There was a man upon the plantation called "Shoe Joe," or "Gentleman
Joe." He had, when a young man, been body-servant to his young master
George, your great-grandfather's brother. I never in my life have seen
finer manners than Joe's, so deeply respectful, and so full of
courtesy. Notwithstanding his really fine deportment, Joe's nature was
low and mean, and something that he did so offended his young master
that, to Joe's great disgust, he was remanded back to the plantation
and field work. In consequence of this, he always bore his young
master a grudge, which, of course, he kept to himself. Once, however,
he made some disrespectful speech before old Betty, who was devoted to
her Master George, and this so offende