"We waded through the black regions of this little pandemonium for some three-quarters of a mile, before the dry sand again greeted our hearing. The Frying-pan still stared me in the face, and the sylvan band still plied their pipes. We had not proceeded far by land before we came directly against a fence. I was truly glad to see it, for I was sure it must lead to some inhabited place, and accordingly ordered Sam to let us into the field, which we found to be an immense plain covered with cotton,--the most beautiful of all crops. We rode between the rows, for many a weary foot, until at length the glimmering of many lights greeted our longing eyes. We made directly for them, and soon stood in the midst of an immense negro quarter. On inquiring whether their master's house was near at hand, we found that it was many miles distant. The overseer's house, they told us, was not more than half a mile off; but to these animals I have always had an utter aversion. I therefore bought some fodder for the horses, and two fowls for ourselves, from the _driver_, who had the privilege of raising them, and employed his wife to pick and grill them upon the coals, and a delightful and savoury prelude they soon sent up to my famished senses; a heartier or a sweeter meal was never made than I thus took; a fowl seasoned with salt, and a large pot of small homminy, served direct to my mouth from a large wooden spoon, without the cumbrous intervention of plates, knives, and forks. Our meal being finished,--for you must know Sam and I dined at the same time and from the same table, which was none other than the ground floor, covered with the head of a barrel,--hunger is a wonderful leveller of distinctions,--as I was saying, our meal being finished, a goodly number of the more aged, respectable, and intelligent blacks of the quarter assembled to entertain us, or be entertained themselves, I scarcely know which. Many of these negroes, I found, were born in Africa, and one poor tattooed fellow claimed to be of royal blood. He told me that his father, the king, had a hundred children. I asked if any of those present could write; they replied that there was one man in the quarter who could write in his own language, and several of them went out and brought in a tall, bald-headed old fellow, who seemed to come with great reluctance. After being told what was desired, he acknowledged to me that he could write when he last tried, which was many years previous. I took out my pocket-book, tore out a blank leaf, and handing him a pen from my pocket inkstand, requested him to give me a specimen. He took the head of the barrel on his lap, and began, if I recollect right, on the right side of the page; the following is a fac simile of his performance: [Illustration]