ON THE ST. AUGUSTINE ROAD. 155 



cabins and tall, solitary trees. On the 

 nearer slope, perhaps a sixteenth of a mile 

 away, a negro was ploughing, with a single 

 ox harnessed in some primitive manner, 

 with pieces of wood, for the most part, as 

 well as I could make out through an opera- 

 glass. The soil offered the least possible 

 hindrance, and both he and the ox seemed 

 to be having a literal " walk-over." Beyond 

 him a full half-mile away, perhaps an- 

 other man was ploughing with a mule ; and 

 in another direction a third was doing like- 

 wise, with a woman following in his wake. 

 A colored boy of seventeen I guessed his 

 age at twenty-three came up the road in a 

 cart, and I stopped him to inquire about the 

 crops and other matters. The land in front 

 of me was planted with cotton, he said ; and 

 the men ploughing in the distance were get- 

 ting ready to plant the same. They hired 

 the land and the cabins of Captain H., pay- 

 ing him so much cotton (not so much an 

 acre, but so much a mule, if I understood 

 him rightly) by way of rent. We talked a 

 long time about one thing and another. He 

 had been south as far as the Indian River 

 country, but was glad to be back again in 



