the holy relation is entered upon
almost in childhood. As soon as they begin to lisp they are talking of
their lovers. A little wee girl came to a teacher's home, and after
answering in monosyllables the common questions as to schools and
Sunday-schools, there was a lull in the conversation, when she spoke up:
"I hain't got no sweetheart." For all marriage is the chief aim, it is
surprising how little preparation they make for it. No bridal trousseau
is ever thought of; not even a new dress is made for the occasion. I have
seen many a bride in calf-skin shoes, old calico dress, long apron, with
no cuffs nor collar, and her hair falling from her comb, while the groom
appeared with uncombed hair, stogy shoes, jean pants and in shirt
sleeves.

We have no rollicking girls or boisterous boys; we never see a crowing,
cooing baby. The children are born old. The babies have a sad and
dejected look, as if this world were a "dreary wilderness of woe," and
they grieve they were ever born. Poor little ones in the Southland! how
many are gathered home ere a twelve months' stay on earth. Besides this
weary, aged look of the children, we frequently find those who look like
walking corpses. A little inquiry reveals the fact that they are clay
eaters. We have them in our schools. In our Jellico school, we have
children whose elder sisters had to sprinkle pepper around the
hearthstones to keep them from digging out the clay and eating it. The
habit once formed, it seems to last them during life; where it ever
originated I don't know, but have no doubt it was from lack of proper
nourishment.

Our women! how shall I describe them? I wish I might picture them before
you as they ride into town with their babies in their arms and a child or
two on their horses with them, or as they walk in with heavy, dragging
gait, loaded with some produce for sale, or as they stand for hours
open-eyed and open-mouthed around the counters of some country store. I
wish you could see them in their cabin homes, as bare of comfort as a wild
desert waste, or at work in the field with the family, but always and
everywhere with a chew of tobacco or a snuff stick in their mouths. They
never express a desire for what they have not, nor a murmur at what they
have, but their very movements are a complaint--a wail. On their face is
ever seen that weary, resigned, passionless look. They never lighten with
joy or surprise. If you could manage to fire a Vesuvius before th