A Thousand-Mile W alk 
lips, and their smooth cheeks flashing off light 
as if made of glass. Seen anywhere but in the 
South, the glossy pair would have been taken 
for twin devils, but here it was only a negro 
and his wife at their supper. 
I ventured forward to the radiant presence 
of the black pair, and, after being stared at 
with that desperate fixedness which is said to 
subdue the lion, I was handed water in a gourd 
from somewhere out of the darkness. I was 
standing for a moment beside the big fire, look- 
ing at the unsurpassable simplicity of the es- 
tablishment, and asking questions about the 
road to Gainesville, when my attention was 
called to a black lump of something lying in 
the ashes of the fire. It seemed to be made 
of rubber; but ere I had time for much specu- 
lation, the woman bent wooingly over the 
black object and said with motherly kindness, 
“Come, honey, eat yo’ hominy.” 
At the sound of “hominy” the rubber gave 
strong manifestations of vitality and proved to 
be a burly little negro boy, rising from the earth 
{ 106 ] 
