'Now is the time to stand by the State, my friends,' said my host as he finished the reading. 'I hope every man here is ready to do his duty by old South-Carolina.' 'Yes, _sar!_ if she does _har_ duty by the Union. We'll go to the death for har just so long as she's in the right, but not a d----d step if she arn't,' said the long-legged native I have introduced to the reader. 'And what have _you_ to say about South-Carolina? What does, she owe to _you?_' asked the Colonel, turning on the speaker with a proud and angry look. 'More, a darned sight than she'll pay, if ye cursed 'ristocrats run her to h---- as ye'r doing. She owes me, and 'bout ten as likely niggers as ye ever seed, a living, and we've d----d hard work to get it out on her _now_, let alone what's comin'. 'Don't talk to me, you ill-mannered cur,' said my host, turning his back on his neighbor, and directing his attention to the remainder of the assemblage. 'Look har, Cunnel,' replied the native, 'if ye'll jest come down from thar and throw 'way yer shootin'-irons, I'll give ye the all-firedest thrashing ye ever did get.' The Colonel gave no further heed to him, but the speaker mounted the steps of the meeting-house and harangued the natives in a strain of rude and passionate declamation, in which my host, the aristocrats, and the Secessionists came in for about equal shares of abuse. Seeing that the native (who, it appeared, was quite popular as a stump-speaker) was drawing away his audience, the Colonel descended from the driver's seat, and motioning for me to follow, entered the carriage. Turning the horses homeward, we rode off at a brisk pace. 'Not much Secession about that fellow, Colonel,' I remarked, after a while. 'No,' he replied, 'he's a North-Carolina 'corn-cracker,' one of the meanest specimens of humanity extant. They're as thick as fleas in this part of the State, and about all of them are traitors.' 'Traitors to the State, but true to the Union. As far as I've seen, that is the case with the middling class throughout the South.' 'Well, it may be, but they generally go with us, and I reckon they will now, when it comes to the rub. Those in the towns--the traders and mechanics--will, certain; it's only these half-way independent planters that ever kick the traces. By the way,' continued my host, in a jocose way, 'what did you think of the preaching?' 'I thought it very poor. I'd rather have heard the stump-speech, had it not been a little too personal on you.' 'Well, it was the better of the two,' he replied, laughing, 'but the old devil can't afford any thing good, he don't get enough pay.' 'Why, how much does he get?' 'Only a hundred dollars.' 'That is small. How does the man live?' 'Well, he teaches the daughter of my neighbor, Captain Randall, who believes in praying, and gives him his board. Randall thinks that enough. The rest of the parish can't afford to pay him, and I _won't_.' 'Why won't you?'