THE RACCOON. 53 



above all, when they cook for themselves. The 

 game was placed upon a layer of sweet potatoes in 

 a deep pit, ^^itli another layer of the vegetable over 

 it, plenty of cayenne, and a few lumps of very fresh 

 lard to augment the gravy. This was left to stew 

 for about five hours, and was served quite hot. I 

 must admit, that the meat was delicious, and that 

 I know of nothing more juicy and succulent. I 

 would advise our modern epicures to go and taste 

 for themselves ; for I am certain that as they re- 

 turned from the journey they would be singing, like 

 the nigwrs of the South: — 



berry good to eat, 

 'Possum he make tender meat ; 

 Would you dinner nice and fat, 

 Eat a 'possum — tell you dat. 



Djing ! bing ! bon ! bourn ! bang I ba 

 Den you drink of rum de glass, 

 Drinking cozy with your lass. 



Djing ! boun ! djang ! bing ! ba !" 



THE RACCOON. 



I WAS travelling in Kentucky about the end of 

 autumn. A farmer named Danielson in the neigh- 

 bourhood of Eailton, a little village at the foot of 

 the Cumberland Mountains, and to whom I had a 

 letter of introduction, very kindly offered me the 

 hospitality of his house. I arrived one evening, 



