Foo} Hunting in the Sunny South 39 



riding that boss to death. — See heah. This yher gentleman 

 wants to go to Col. Thorpe's. You just jump down, and let 

 him ride that hoss home. You heah, and if I see you riding 

 that hoss any more like that, I'll suht'nly tell the Colonel." 



The writer remonstrated. A mettlesome thoroughbred 

 covered with perspiration, and a jockey saddle, was anything 

 but inviting. So it was finally settled that the jockey should 

 stay up, and pilot the writer to a place on the "pike" where 

 he could "cut cross-lots" to the plantation. Then the jockey 

 would ride on to say he was coming. 



"Massa dun 'spect you," said the jockey, apologising, 

 "but he'll be pow'ful glad to see you. Yes, Sab. He sure dun 

 know you am a-comin', else he sure have been heah to meet 

 you," etc. — until the writer was convinced beyond question no 

 slight in hospitahty had been intended. 



Presently, when crossing a field beyond a piece of timber, 

 the plantation buildings came in sight — a modest two-story 

 house, with a wide veranda in front, and with great fluted 

 columns supporting the roof that projected over the second 

 story, a style of architecture verj^ popular throughout the 

 South, and the one best suited of all for a plantation house 

 set upon a rise of ground, as this one was, some distance 

 back from the "pike." Of course the house was painted 

 white. 



The numerous detached out-buildings, the slave's quarters 

 before the war, were now occupied by coloured servants, pigs 

 and chickens. These one-story wliite-washed out-buildings 

 formed an oblong enclosure, that might be called the back 

 yard to the mansion. Tliis yard is usually given up to the 

 chickens, ducks, turkeys, dogs, and negro children, with 

 possibly a cosset lamb or two, a lame pig or a pet calf. This 

 farm nursery is presided over by some old coloured servant, 

 usually a woman, whose management is seldom questioned, 

 and whose rule is law. 



