you ill-mannered cur,' said my host, turning his back
on his neighbor, and directing his attention to the remainder of the
assemblage.

'Look har, Cunnel,' replied the native, 'if ye'll jest come down from
thar and throw 'way yer shootin'-irons, I'll give ye the all-firedest
thrashing ye ever did get.'

The Colonel gave no further heed to him, but the speaker mounted the
steps of the meeting-house and harangued the natives in a strain of rude
and passionate declamation, in which my host, the aristocrats, and the
Secessionists came in for about equal shares of abuse. Seeing that the
native (who, it appeared, was quite popular as a stump-speaker) was
drawing away his audience, the Colonel descended from the driver's seat,
and motioning for me to follow, entered the carriage. Turning the horses
homeward, we rode off at a brisk pace.

'Not much Secession about that fellow, Colonel,' I remarked, after a
while.

'No,' he replied, 'he's a North-Carolina 'corn-cracker,' one of the
meanest specimens of humanity extant. They're as thick as fleas in this
part of the State, and about all of them are traitors.'

'Traitors to the State, but true to the Union. As far as I've seen, that
is the case with the middling class throughout the South.'

'Well, it may be, but they generally go with us, and I reckon they will
now, when it comes to the rub. Those in the towns--the traders and
mechanics--will, certain; it's only these half-way independent planters
that ever kick the traces. By the way,' continued my host, in a jocose
way, 'what did you think of the preaching?'

'I thought it very poor. I'd rather have heard the stump-speech, had it
not been a little too personal on you.'

'Well, it was the better of the two,' he replied, laughing, 'but the
old devil can't afford any thing good, he don't get enough pay.'

'Why, how much does he get?'

'Only a hundred dollars.'

'That is small. How does the man live?'

'Well, he teaches the daughter of my neighbor, Captain Randall, who
believes in praying, and gives him his board. Randall thinks that
enough. The rest of the parish can't afford to pay him, and I _won't_.'

'Why won't you?'

'Because he's a d----d old hypocrite. He believes in the Union with all
his heart--at least, so Randall, who's a sincere Union man, says--and
yet, he never sees me at meeting but he preaches a red-hot secession
sermon.'

'He wants to keep you in the faith,' I replied.

A few more miles of san