The “Jeff. Davis Cotton Plantation.” A few negro soldiers were standing guard on the river bank, one day, as our steamer touched to land our party at the lower side of the great bend below Vicksburg, for a visit to the adjacent cotton plantations. The officers sent off for ambulances for us. While we were awaiting their arrival, the relief guard came up, marching with a precision and erect, soldierly bearing that spoke well for their drill sergeants, and proved no small source of astonishment to the party of paroled rebels we had on board. “A nigger’s just like a monkey,” growled one; “whatever he sees a white man do he’ll imitate; and he’ll study over it a cussed sight harder’n he will over his work. But how one o’ them black devils with muskets ’d run ef a white man was to start after him with a whip!” And with this he walked up to one of the soldiers, saying, rather harshly: “Boy, le’ me see your gun,” and offering to take hold of it. The soldier stepped hastily back, and brought his weapon into position for immediate use. “How the war _has_ demoralized the cussed brutes!” muttered the discomfited scion of the master race, as he retired. It was our first experience on the plantation of Mr. Jefferson Davis. Nearly all the nine thousand acres included in the bend of the river here had formerly belonged to Joseph Davis, brother to the President of the late Confederacy. Jefferson was a soldier and a politician, but no planter. He brought reputation and social position to the family, but no money. His brother balanced the account by giving him, from his own large estate, a plantation of a thousand acres. Here, down to the outbreak of the war, Mr. Davis was accustomed to spend a portion of his time, his brother and the late General Quitman being his only neighbors. Negro soldiers were now doing duty on the landing whence his cotton had been shipped, and “runaway niggers” were tilling his fertile fields on their own account. * * * * *