and
had a fresh, cheerful face. To say that she was handsome, would not be
strictly true; though she had that pleasant, gentle, kindly expression
that sometimes makes even a homely person seem beautiful. But she was
not homely. Her features were regular, her hair, glossy and brown, and
her eyes, black and brilliant, and, for their color, the mildest and
softest I had ever seen. Her figure was tall, and in its outline
somewhat sharp and angular, but she had an ease and grace about her that
made one forget she was not moulded as softly and roundly as others. She
seemed just the woman on whose bosom a tired, worn, over-burdened man
might lay his weary head, and find rest and forgetfulness.

She wore a neat calico dress, fitting closely to the neck, and an apron
of spotless white muslin. A little lace cap perched cosily on the back
of her head, hiding a portion of her wavy, dark hair, and on her feet--a
miracle, reader, in one of her class--were stockings and shoes! Giving
me her hand--which, at the risk of making her husband jealous, I held
for a moment--she said, making a gentle courtesy:

"Ye ar welcome, stranger."

"I sincerely thank you, madam; I _am_ a stranger in these parts."

She tendered me a chair, while her husband opened a sideboard, and
brought forth a box of Havanas, and a decanter of Scuppernong. As I took
the proffered seat, he offered me the refreshments. I drank the lady's
health in the wine, but declined the cigars. Seeing this, she remarked:

"Yer from th' North, sir; arn't ye?"

"Yes, madam, I live in New York, but I was born in New-England."

"I reckoned so; I knew ye didn't belong in Car'lina."

"How did you know that, madam?" I asked, laughing.

"I seed ye doan't smoke 'fore wimmin. But ye musn't mind me; I sort o'
likes it; its a great comfut to John, and may be it ar to ye."

"Well, I do relish a good cigar, but I never smoke before any lady
except my wife, and though she's only 'a little lower than the angels,'
she _does_, once in awhile, say it's a shame to make the _house_ smell
like a tobacco factory."

Barnes handed me the box again, and I took one. As I was lighting it, he
said:

"Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?"

"There's none better; at least, I think so."

"Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine: I wouldn't trade her fur
all this worle, an' th' best half uv 'tother."

"Don't ye talk so, John," said the lady; then addressing me, she added:
"It's a good husband thet m