A COTTON PLANTATION. 189 



read my thoughts just then he would perhaps 

 have been angry with himself, and pretty 

 certainly he would have been angry with me. 

 That a Yankee should accept his hospitality, 

 and then load him with curses and call him 

 all manner of names ! How should he know 

 that I was so insane a hobbyist as to care 

 more for the sight of a new bird than for all 

 the laws and customs of ordinary politeness ? 

 As my feelings cooled, I saw that I was step- 

 ping over hills or rows of some strange-look- 

 ing plants just out of the ground. Peanuts, 

 I guessed ; but to make sure I called to a 

 colored woman who was hoeing not far off. 

 "What are these?" "Finders," she an- 

 swered. I knew she meant peanuts, other- 

 wise "ground-peas" and "goobers," - and 

 now that I once more have a dictionary at my 

 elbow I learn that the word, like " goober," 

 is, or is supposed to be, of African origin. 



I was preparing to surmount the barbed- 

 wire fence again, when the planter returned 

 and halted for another chat. It was evident 

 that he took a genuine and amiable interest 

 in my researches. There were a great many 

 kinds of sparrows in that country, he said, 

 and also of woodpeckers, lie knew the 



