After a two hours' circuit of the plantation, we halted in the vicinity of the distilleries, which stood huddled together on the bank of the little stream of which I have spoken. There were three of them, each of thirty barrels' capacity--an enormous size--and they were neatly set in brick, and enclosed in a substantial framed structure, which was weatherboarded and coated with paint of a dark brown color. Near the only one then in operation were several large heaps of flake turpentine, three or four hundred barrels of rosin, and a vast quantity of the same material scattered loosely about and mixed with broken staves, worn-out strainers, and the _debris_ of the rosin bins. Pointing to the confused mass, I said to my host: 'I've half a mind to turn missionary. I feel a sort of call to preach to you Southern heathen.' 'I wish you would,' he rejoined, laughing; 'you'd give me a chance to laugh at your sermons, as you have laughed at mine.' 'No, you wouldn't laugh. I'd make you _feel_ way down in your pocket. I'd have but one sermon and one text, and that would be: 'Gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost.' You Southern nabobs do nothing but waste--you waste enough in one day to feed the whole North for a week. It's a sin--the unpardonable sin--for you know better.' 'Well, it _is_ wrong, but how can we help it? We can't make the negroes anything but what they are--shiftless and careless of everything but their own ease.' 'I don't know about that. I think such a man as Joe ought to be able to manage them.' 'Joe! Well, he can't. He's all drive, and negroes are human beings; they should be treated kindly.' We had approached the front of the still, and were fastening our horses to the trunk of a tree, when we heard loud voices issuing from the other side of the enclosure. 'Her'm what I owes you--now pack off ter onst, and don't neber show your face on dis plantation no more,' said a voice, which I at once recognized as that of 'boss Joe.' 'I shan't pack off till I'm ready, you d--d black nigger, I've been bossed 'bout by ye long 'nuff. Clar out, and 'tend ter yer own 'fairs,' rejoined another voice, which had the tone of a white man's. 'I reckon _dis_ am my 'fair, and I shan't leff you git drunk and burn up no more white rosum yere; so take yerseff off. Ef you don't, I'll make you blacker nor I is.' 'Put your hand on me, and I'll take the law on ye, _shore_,' returned the white man. 'Pshaw, you drunken fool, do you s'pose dese darkies would tell on _me_? Ef dey would, dar word ain't 'lowed in de law; so you trabble. I don't keer ter handle you, but I shill ef you don't leab widin five minutes.'