n allowance of meat (salt pork or beef), as much
corn as they can eat, and a gill of whiskey daily. No class of men at
the South are so industrious, energetic, and enterprising. Though not so
well informed, they have many of the traits of our New England farmers;
in fact, are frequently called "North Carolina Yankees." It was these
people the overseer proposed to hang. The reader will doubtless think
that "hanging was not good enough for them."]

CHAPTER VI.

THE PLANTER'S "FAMILY."

A quarter of a mile through the woods brought me to the cabin of the old
negress where Scip lodged. I rapped at the door, and was admitted by the
old woman. Scip, nearly asleep, was lying on a pile of blankets in the
corner.

"Are you mad?" I said to him. "The Colonel is frantic with rage, and
swears he will kill you. You must be off at once."

"No, no, massa; neber fear; I knows him. He'd keep his word, ef he loss
his life by it. I'm gwine afore sunrise; till den I'm safe."

"Der ye tink Massa Davy wud broke his word, sar?" said the old negress,
bridling up her bent form, and speaking in a tone in which indignation
mingled with wounded dignity; "p'raps gemmen do dat at de Norf--dey
neber does it har."

"Excuse me, Aunty; I know your master is a man of honor; but he's very
much excited, and very angry with Scip."

"No matter for dat, sar; Massa Davy neber done a mean ting sense he war
born."

"Massa K---- tinks a heap ob de Cunnel, Aunty; but he reckon he'm sort
o' crazy now; dat make him afeard," said Scip, in an apologetic tone.

"What ef he am crazy? You'se safe _har_," rejoined the old woman,
dropping her aged limbs into a chair, and rocking away with much the air
which ancient white ladies occasionally assume.

"Wont you ax Massa K---- to a cheer?" said Scip; "he hab ben bery kine
to me."

The negress then offered me a seat; but it was some minutes before I
rendered myself sufficiently agreeable to thaw out the icy dignity of
her manner. Meanwhile I glanced around the apartment.

Though the exterior of the cabin was like the others on the plantation,
the interior had a rude, grotesque elegance about it far in advance of
any negro hut I had ever seen. The logs were chinked with clay, and the
one window, though destitute of glass, and ornamented with the
inevitable board-shutter, had a green moreen curtain, which kept out the
wind and the rain. A worn but neat and well swept carpet partly covered
the floor, and o