[Illustration: A HOME IN THE MOUNTAINS OF GEORGIA.] The country district about Savannah is somewhat similar in appearance to that of Western North Carolina, except that its mountains are not nearly so high. The soil, however, is practically the same, as are the social conditions; and hence the constant reminder of that section which we have already described. The old log-cabin is a familiar sight in Georgia, often vine-wreathed, and showing signs of great antiquity, with roofs of clap-board, upon which the rain patters like the long-roll beat of a snare-drum. The picture which we present is typical of this class, and an example as well of rural simplicity. Homely, battered by time, and affording few comforts, yet in such cabins greatness has often had its birth, nor scorned such humble nativity. How many men of high estate lie down in the drapery of fine linen and, when night has folded the earth in her sable arms, think of the old cabin home in Georgia; of the long time ago; of the bubbling spring in the hollow and the gourd that hung by it; of the grape-vine swing, and the cows mooing in the pasture; of father and mother, and the graves on the hillside. And there is a sigh from the heart. The old time was the flush of life’s morning; it is growing evening now, and the shadows are creeping up the slopes. Soon the present will be the “old times” to our children. How many men who have achieved greatness would exchange their possessions and positions for youth and the old cabin home as they see it now in their dreams! Many, yes, very many. Inseparable, almost, from the log-house of the Southern poor, is the cabin home of the negro, because the two are separated by such a thin line of distinction that only critical inspection can prevent them from assimilating in the minds of those unfamiliar with Southern life. There is the same stone-chimney and clap-board roof, but the colored man’s cabin is a single room, and the front is porchless. More hasty construction is also noted, for the logs are laid like a turkey-pen, and clap-boards are used again, not for weather-boarding, but as a substitute for batten. Windows are not needed, through which to exchange civilities with the season, for there are holes and crannies to let smoke out, and plenty of accidental entrances for the warm summer air to get in. It is thus at small effort and no care the worst weather is kept out, and contentedness reigns within. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: