m fire awaited my benumbed limbs in
the cabin of this unknown man. Pushing the canoe towards the sound, and
feeling the submerged border of the swamp with my paddle, I struck the
upland where it touched the water, and disembarking, felt my way along
a well-trodden path to a little clearing. Here a drove of hogs were
crowding around their owner, who was scattering kernels of corn about
him as he vociferated, "pe-ig--pe-ig--pe-ig--pig--pig--pig." We stood
face to face, yet neither could see the face of the other in the
darkness. I told my tale, and asked where I could find a sheltered
spot to camp.

"Stranger," slowly replied the Cracker, "my cabin's close at hand. Come
home with me. It's a bad night for a man to lay out in; and the niggers
would steal your traps if they knew you had anything worth taking. Come
with me."

In the tall pines near at hand was a cabin of peeled rails, the chinks
between them being stuffed with moss. A roof of cypress shingles kept
the rain out. The log chimney, which was plastered with mud, was built
outside of the walls and against an end of the rustic-looking structure.
The wide-mouthed fireplace sent forth a blaze of light as we entered the
poor man's home. I saw in the nicely swept floor, the clean bed-spreads,
and the general neatness of the place, the character of Wilson Edge's
wife.

"Hog and hominy's our food here in the piny woods," said Mr. Edge, as
his wife invited us to the little table; "and we've a few eggs now and
then to eat with sweet potatoes, but it's up-hill work to keep the
niggers from killing every fowl and animal we have. The carpet-bag
politicians promised them every one, for his vote, forty acres of land
and a mule. They sed as how the northern government was a-going to give
it to um; but the poor devils never got any thanks even for their votes.
They had been stuffed with all sorts of notions by the carpet-baggers,
and I don't blame um for putting on airs and trying to rule us. It's
human natur, that's all. We don't blame the niggers half so much as
those who puts it in their heads to do so; but it's hard times we've
had, we poor woods folks. They took our children for the cussed war,
to fight fur niggers and rich people as owned um.

"We never could find out what all the fuss was about; but when Jeff
Davis made a law to exempt every man from the army who owned fifteen
niggers, then our blood riz right up, and we sez to our neighbors, 'This
ere thing's a-gettin