Hillsboro, neighboring villages. She was not only good at
making the nets, but was also somewhat famous for her good fortune in
taking the fishes referred to. I have known her to be in the water
half the day. Grandmother was likewise more provident than most of
her neighbors in the preservation of seedling sweet potatoes, and it
happened to her--as it will happen to any careful and thrifty person
residing in an ignorant and improvident community--to enjoy the
reputation of having been born to "good luck." Her "good luck" was owing
to the exceeding care which she took in preventing the succulent root
from getting bruised in the digging, and in placing it beyond the reach
of frost, by actually burying it under the hearth of her cabin during
the winter months. In the time of planting sweet potatoes, "Grandmother
Betty," as she was familiarly called, was sent for in all directions,
simply to place the seedling potatoes in the hills; for superstition had
it, that if "Grandmamma Betty but touches them at planting, they will be
sure to grow and flourish." This high reputation was full of advantage
to her, and to the children around her. Though Tuckahoe had but few of
the good things of{28} life, yet of such as it did possess grandmother
got a full share, in the way of presents. If good potato crops came
after her planting, she was not forgotten by those for whom she planted;
and as she was remembered by others, so she remembered the hungry little
ones around her.

The dwelling of my grandmother and grandfather had few pretensions. It
was a log hut, or cabin, built of clay, wood, and straw. At a
distance it resembled--though it was smaller, less commodious and less
substantial--the cabins erected in the western states by the first
settlers. To my child's eye, however, it was a noble structure,
admirably adapted to promote the comforts and conveniences of its
inmates. A few rough, Virginia fence-rails, flung loosely over the
rafters above, answered the triple purpose of floors, ceilings, and
bedsteads. To be sure, this upper apartment was reached only by a
ladder--but what in the world for climbing could be better than a
ladder? To me, this ladder was really a high invention, and possessed
a sort of charm as I played with delight upon the rounds of it. In this
little hut there was a large family of children: I dare not say how
many. My grandmother--whether because too old for field service, or
because she had so faithfully disch