by two or three white owners. They
occupied little villages and had no care upon earth. They had their
pastimes and religious worships. "The courtly old planter, highbred and
gentle, the plantation "uncle" who copied the master's manners; and the
broad-bosomed black mammy, with vari-colored turban, spotless apron, and
beaming face, the friend and helper of every living thing in cabin or
mansion, formed a trio we love to remember." The black woman cared more
for her white nursling than her own child. This seems unnatural, but it
was true; and many of us recall the times that the mistress of the house
had to interfere to prevent the kitchen mother from cruelly whipping
her naughty offspring. Some relic of ancient African barbarism still
lingered in their untutored minds. We loved our colored playmates, and
their sable mothers and fathers. Many a winning story of "way down upon
de ole plantation" has been truthfully told. Will S. Hays has
immortalized it in song.

A Southern writer has thus portrayed the Xmas time: "For weeks
beforehand everything was full of stir and preparation. Holly and
mistletoe and cedar were being put about the rooms of the big house to
welcome home the boys and girls from school. Secret councils were held
as to the Xmas gifts to be given to everyone, white and black. The
woodpile was loaded with oak and hickory logs to make bright and warm
the Christmas nights. The negro seamstresses were busy making: new suits
for all the servants." The King was in the parlor counting out his
money--to pay out for gifts of the season--and the queen was in the
kitchen dealing bread and honey--to paraphrase Mother Goose. Into the
stately plantation home, with its lofty white columns, its big rooms,
and its great fireplaces, poured the sons and daughters, grandchildren,
uncles and aunts, nephews and nieces. Assembled around the groaning
board, the patriarch asked the divine blessing and the twin spirits of
christianity were rife in the land. There was only a fitful sleep for
the small boys and girls, who were up at peep of day, stealing: from
room to room crying "Christmas Gift!" Out on the back porches waited the
negroes in grinning rows to follow the example. All week the cabin fires
burned brightly and constant was the rejoicing over their treasures, not
forgetting the grand eatables and the big bowl of egg-nogg.

Negroes are a religious as well as a superstitious race. At midnight
Saturday it was their custom to