a pig's tail;' you can't make a nigger into a white man."

Just here the carriage stopped suddenly, and we looked out to see the
cause. The road by which we had come was a mere opening through the
pines; no fences separated it from the wooded land, and being seldom
travelled, the track was scarcely visible. In many places it widened to
a hundred feet, but in others tall trees had grown up on its opposite
sides, leaving scarcely width enough for a single carriage to pass
along. In one of these narrow passages, just before us, a queer-looking
vehicle had upset, and scattered its contents in the road. We had no
alternative but to wait till it got out of the way; and we all alighted
to reconnoitre.

The vehicle was a little larger than an ordinary handcart, and was
mounted on wheels that had probably served their time on a Boston dray
before commencing their travels in Secessiondom. Its box of pine
boarding and its shafts of rough oak poles were evidently of Southern
home manufacture. Attached to it by a rope harness, with a primitive
bridle of decidedly original construction, was--not a horse, nor a mule,
nor even an alligator, but a "three-year-old heifer."

The wooden linch-pin of the cart had given way, and the weight of a
half-dozen barrels of turpentine had thrown the box off its balance, and
rolled the contents about in all directions.

The appearance of the proprietor of this nondescript vehicle was in
keeping with his establishment. His coat, which was much too short in
the waist and much too long in the skirts, was of the common reddish
gray linsey, and his nether garments, which stopped just below the
knees, were of the same material. From there downwards, he wore only the
covering that is said to have been the fashion in Paradise before Adam
took to fig-leaves. His hat had a rim broader than a political platform,
and his skin a color half way between tobacco-juice and a tallow
candle.

"Wal, Cunnul, how dy'ge?" said the stranger, as we stepped from the
carriage.

"Very well, Ned; how are you?"

"Purty wal, Cunnul; had the nagur lately, right smart, but'm gittin'
'roun'."

"You're in a bad fix here, I see. Can Jim help you?"

"Wal, p'raps he moight. Jim, how dy'ge?"

"Sort o' smart, ole feller. But come, stir yerseff; we want ter gwo
'long," replied Jim, with a lack of courtesy that showed he regarded the
white man as altogether too "trashy" to be treated with much ceremony.

With the aid of Jim, a