est as you like.'

'Say no more about it, Andy,' said the gentleman, very cordially; 'let's
drink and be friends.'

They drank a glass of whisky together, and then leaving the table,
proceeded to where the ox had been barbecued, to show me how cooking on
a large scale is done at the South.

In a pit about eight feet deep, twenty feet long, and ten feet wide,
laid up on the side with stones, a fire of hickory had been made, over
which, after the wood had burned down to coals, a whole ox, divested of
its hide and entrails, had been suspended on an enormous spit. Being
turned often in the process of cooking, the beef had finally been 'done
brown.' It was then cut up and served on the table, and I must say, for
the credit of Southern cookery, that it made as delicious eating as any
meat I ever tasted.

I had then been away from my charge--the Colonel's horses--as long as
seemed to be prudent. I said as much to Andy, when he proposed to
return with me, and turning good-humoredly to his reconciled friend, he
said:

'Now, Tom, no secession talk while I'm off.'

'Nary a word,' said Tom, and we left.

The horses had been well fed by the negro who had them in charge, but
had not been groomed. Andy, seeing that, stripped off his coat, and,
setting the black at work on one, with a handful of straw and
pine-leaves commenced operations on the other, and the horse's coat was
soon as smooth and glossy as if recently rubbed by an English groom.

The remainder of the day passed without incident till eleven at night,
when the Colonel returned from Wilmington.

Moye had not been seen or heard of, and the Colonel's trip was
fruitless. While at Wilmington, he sent telegrams, directing the
overseer's arrest, to the various large cities of the South, and then
decided to return, make some arrangements preliminary to a protracted
absence from the plantation, and proceed at once to Charleston, where he
would await replies to his dispatches. Andy agreed with him in the
opinion that Moye, in his weak state of health, would not undertake an
overland journey to the free States, but would endeavor to reach some
town on the Mississippi, where he could dispose of the horse, and secure
a passage up the river.

As no time was to be lost, it was decided that we should return to the
plantation on the following morning. Accordingly, with the first streak
of day, we bade 'good-by' to our Union friend, and started homeward.

No incident worthy of