ust 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
traveled, 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, and there was 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 hand-cart, 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 the 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, of the same material, stopped just
below the knees. 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 that of 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't 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 manifest 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 new linch-pin was soon whittled out, the
turpent