At every steep hill or bad place in the road it was an established custom to stop the carriage, unfold the high steps and "let us out"--like pictures of the animals coming down out of the ark! This custom had always prevailed in my mother's family, and there was a tradition that my great grandfather's horses being habituated to stop for this purpose, refused to pull up certain hills--even when the carriage was empty--until the driver had dismounted and slammed the door, after which they moved off without further hesitation. This custom of walking at intervals made an agreeable variety, and gave us an opportunity to enjoy fully the beautiful and picturesque scenery through which we were passing. These were the days of leisure and pleasure for travelers; and when we remember the charming summer jaunts annually made in this way, we almost regret the "steam horse," which takes us now to the same places in a few hours. We had two dear friends--Mary and Alice--who with their old carriages and drivers--the fac similes of our own--frequently accompanied us in these expeditions; and no generals ever exercised more entire command over their armies than did these three black coachmen over us. I smile now to think of their ever being called our "slaves." Yet, although they had this "domineering" spirit, they felt at the same time, a certain pride in us, too. On one occasion, when we were traveling together, our friend Alice concluded to dismount from her carriage and ride a few miles with a gentleman of the party in a buggy. She had not gone far before the alarm was given that the buggy horse was running away, whereupon our black generalissimos instantly stopped the three carriages and anxiously watched the result. Old Uncle Edmund--Alice's coachman--stood up in his seat highly excited, and when his young mistress, with admirable presence of mind, seized the reins and stopped the horse, turning him into a by-road, shouted at the top of his voice: "Thar, now! I always knowed Miss Alice was a young 'oman of the most amiable courage!" and over this feat continued to chuckle the rest of the day. The end of these pleasant journeys always brought us to some old plantation home, where we met a warm welcome not only from the white family, but the servants who constituted part of the establishment. One of the most charming to which we made a yearly visit was Oaklands, a lovely spot embowered in vines and shade trees.