his flock in the shape of
an inverted V; at times the more melodious note of a trumpeter swan; or
from the top of a tall cottonwood, or cypress, the sharp saw-filing
shriek of the white-headed eagle, angered by some stray creature coming
too close, and startling it from its slumbers. Below, out of the swamp
sedge, rises the mournful cry of the quabird--the American bittern--and
from the same, the deep sonorous bellow of that ugliest animal on
earth--the alligator.

Where fields adjoin the forest--plantation clearings--oft few and far
between--there are sounds more cheerful. The song of the slave, his
day's work done, sure to be preceded, or followed, by peals of loud
jocund laughter; the barking of the house-dog, indicative of a
well-watched home; with the lowing of cattle, and other domestic calls
that proclaim it worth watching. A galaxy of little lights, in rows
like street lamps, indicate the "negro quarter;" while in the foreground
a half-dozen windows of larger size, and brighter sheen, show where
stands the "big house"--the planter's own dwelling.

To that of Colonel Armstrong has come a night of exceptional character,
when its lights are seen burning later than usual. The plantation clock
has tolled nine, nearly an hour ago. Still light shines through the
little windows of the negro cabins, while the larger ones of the "big
house" are all aflame. And there are candles being carried to and fro,
lighting up a scene of bustling activity: while the clack of voices--
none of them in laughter--is heard commingled with the rattling of
chains, and the occasional stroke of a hammer. The forms of men and
women, are seen to flit athwart the shining windows, all busy about
something.

There is no mystery in the matter. It is simply the planter, with his
people, occupied in preparation for the morrow's moving. Openly, and
without restraint: for, although so near the mid hour of night, it is no
midnight flitting.

The only individual, who appears to act surreptitiously, is a young
girl; who, coming out by the back door of the dwelling, makes away from
its walls in gliding gait--at intervals glancing back over her shoulder,
as if in fear of being followed, or observed.

Her style of dress also indicates a desire to shun observation; for she
is cloaked and close hooded. Not enough to ensure disguise, though she
may think so. The most stolid slave on all Colonel Armstrong's
plantation, could tell at a glance wh