1 68 SUCCESS WITH SMALL FA'U/TS. 



day was hourly growing brighter and warmer. The bahny, 

 fragrant air, the meadow larks singing in the distance, the 

 cheery voices of the pickers in an adjacent field, would 

 tempt gloom itself to forget its care and stroll away through 

 the sunlight. 



The pickers were beginning to take possession of a field 

 containing thirty acres of Triomphe de Gands, and we fol- 

 lowed them, and there lit on one of the oddest characters 

 on the plantation, — " Sam Jubilee," the " row-man," black 

 as night, short, stout, and profane. It is Sam's business to 

 give each picker a row of berries, and he carries a brass- 

 headed cane as the baton of authority. As we came up, he 

 was whirling a glazed hat of portentous size in one hand 

 and gesticulating so wildly with his cane that one might 

 think he was in convulsions of rage, but we soon learned 

 that this was " his way." 



" Heah, you, dah ! " he vociferated, to the slouching, 

 leisurely pickers that were drifting after him, *' what 's de 

 matter wid yer j'ints? Step along lively, or by — " and 

 then came a volley of the most outlandish oaths ever uttered 

 by a human tongue. 



" Don't swear so, Sam," said Mr. Young. 



" Can't help it, sah. Dey makes me swar. Feels as if I 

 could bust inter ten thousand emptins, dey 's so agenvatin. 

 Heah, my sister, take dat row. You, gemlin " (to a white 

 man), ''take dat. Heah, chile, step in dar an' pick right 

 smart, or I '11 warm yer ! " 



Sam " brothers and sisters " the motley crowd he domi- 

 neers like a colored preacher, but I fear he is not " in good 

 and regular standing" in any church in Norfolk. 



'' He can give out rows more rapidly and systematically 

 than any man I ever had," said Mr. Young; and we soon 

 observed that wherever Jubilee led, with his stentorian voice 



