y. It was near the close of December, yet the air
was as mild and the sun as warm as in our Northern October. It was
arranged at the breakfast-table that we all should attend service at
"the meeting-house," a church of the Methodist persuasion, located some
eight miles away; but as it wanted some hours of the time for religious
exercises to commence, I strolled out after breakfast, with the Colonel,
to inspect the stables of the plantation. "Massa Tommy" accompanied us,
without invitation; and in the Colonel's intercourse with him I observed
as much freedom and familiarity as he would have shown to an
acknowledged son. The youth's manners and conversation showed that great
attention had been given to his education and training, and made it
evident that the mother whose influence was forming his character,
whatever a false system of society had made her life, possessed some of
the best traits of her sex.

The stables, a collection of one-story framed buildings, about a hundred
rods from the house, were well lighted and ventilated, and contained all
"the modern improvements." They were better built, warmer, more
commodious, and in every way more comfortable than the shanties occupied
by the human cattle of the plantation. I remarked as much to the
Colonel, adding that one who did not know would infer that he valued his
horses more than his slaves.

"That may be true," he replied, laughing. "Two of my horses are worth
more than any eight of my slaves;" at the same time calling my attention
to two magnificent thorough-breds, one of which had made "2.32" on the
Charleston course. The establishment of a Southern gentleman is not
complete until it includes one or two of these useless appendages. I had
an argument with my host as to their value compared with that of the
steam-engine, in which I forced him to admit that the iron horse is the
better of the two, because it performs more work, eats less, has greater
speed, and is not liable to the spavin or the heaves; but he wound up by
saying, "After all, I go for the thorough-breds. You Yankees have but
one test of value--use."

A ramble through the negro-quarters, which followed our visit to the
stables, gave me some further glimpses of plantation life. Many of the
hands were still away in pursuit of Moye, but enough remained to make it
evident that Sunday is the happiest day in the darky calendar. Groups of
all ages and colors were gathered in front of several of the cabins,