Grant My Wish, And
You Will Send Me Away With A Light Heart."
The Poor Cracker Lowered His Head And Slowly
Ran His Fingers Through His Coal Black Hair.
For
a moment he seemed studying a reply, and then
he spoke as though HE represented the whole
generous heart of the south.
"Stranger," he slowly articulated,"Stranger,
I have known white men to be niggers enough
to take a stranger's money for lodgings and
vittles, but I am not that man."
We found the canoe as it had been left the
night before, and I was soon pulling down the
river. The great wilderness was traversed thirty
miles to the county town of Conwayborough,
where the negroes roared with laughter at the
working of the double paddle, as I shot past the
landing-place where cotton and naval stores
were piled, waiting to be lightered nine miles to
Pot Bluff, - so called from the fact of a pot
being lost from a vessel near it, - which place
is reached by vessels from New York drawing
twelve feet of water. Though still a long
distance from the ocean, I was beginning to feel its
tidal influences. At Pot Bluff, the landing and
comfortable home of its owner, Mr. Z. W.
Dusenberry, presented a pleasant relief after the
monotony of the great pine forests. This
enterprising business man made my short stay a very
pleasant one.
Wednesday, January 20th, was cold for this
latitude, and ice formed in thin sheets in the
water-pails.
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