A DESERTED PLANTATION. 73 



area, while others are mere dots on the surface of the 

 waters. The shore and the larger islands are the most 

 beautiful spots that can be imagined — forests and green 

 prairies being seemingly mixed up together ; while, 

 here and there, a house shows that man has already put 

 in a claim, and is willing to combat for possession of 

 this lovely region with the wild denizens of the woods. 

 One of the largest of these islands had been the planta- 

 tion of a wealthy gentleman who had allowed it to run 

 to waste for some reason or other; and thither I 

 repaired one fine day along with my friend Colonel 



A , who had permission to hunt, shoot, fish, or do 



anything he pleased. The house and, in fact, the whole 

 estate had been left to the care of a group of some 

 half-dozen negroes — slaves they were then — who 

 seemed to have nothing to do but raise pigs and 

 cultivate pumpkins for their own eating, and snare all 

 manner of small game with which the island abounded. 

 But our object was not to destroy hares or partridges, 

 but to kill certain members of a herd of wild cattle; 

 a race of splendid animals as wild as the buffaloes of 

 the western prairies, but infinitely more fierce and 

 dangerous. A dozen years ago they were domesticated 

 quietly at the plantation, but when that was abandoned 

 by the owner, these fine cattle were suffered to roam 

 about the island, growing more untameable with each 

 successive generation. At all times and seasons, these 

 haughty animals that have usurped possession of the 



