* * * *

MY MISSISSIPPI HOME.

At length, after a long and wearisome journey, we reached Pontotoc,
McGee's home, on Christmas eve. Boss took me into the house and into the
sitting room, where all the family were assembled, and presented me as a
Christmas gift to the madam, his wife.

My boss, as I remember him, was a tall, raw-boned man, but rather
distinguished in looks, with a fine carriage, brilliant in intellect,
and considered one of the wealthiest and most successful planters of his
time. Mrs. McGee was a handsome, stately lady, about thirty years of
age, brunette in complexion, faultless in figure and imperious in
manner. I think that they were of Scotch descent. There were four
children, Emma, Willie, Johnnie and Jimmie. All looked at me, and
thought I was "a spry little fellow." I was very shy and did not say
much, as everything was strange to me. I was put to sleep that night on
a pallet on the floor in the dining room, using an old quilt as a
covering. The next morning was Christmas, and it seemed to be a custom
to have egg-nog before breakfast. The process of making this was new and
interesting to me. I saw them whip the whites of eggs, on a platter, to
a stiff froth; the yolks were thoroughly beaten in a large bowl, sugar
and plenty of good brandy were added, and the whites of the eggs and
cream were then stirred in, a little nutmeg grated on top of each glass
when filled for serving. This was a delicious drink, and the best of all
was, there was plenty of it. I served this to all the family, and, as
there were also visiting relatives present, many glasses were required,
and I found the tray so heavy I could hardly carry it. I helped myself,
after the service was finished, and I was delighted, for I had never
tasted anything so fine before.

My boss told me I was to wait on the madam, do any errand necessary,
attend to the dining room--in fact I was installed as general utility
boy. It was different from the quiet manner of life I had seen before
coming here--it kept my spirits up for some time. I thought of my mother
often, but I was gradually growing to the idea that it was useless to
cry, and I tried hard to overcome my feelings.

* * * * *

PLANTATION LIFE.

As already stated, it was Christmas morning, and, after breakfast, I saw
the cook hurrying, and when I went out into the yard, everywhere I
looked slaves met my view. I never saw so many