into the wide square. Here pulsed the very life and being of the land.
Yonder great bales of cotton, yellow-white in its soiled sacking, piled
in lofty, dusty mountains, lay listening for the train that, twice a
day, ran out to the greater world. Round about, tied to the well-gnawed
hitching rails, were rows of mules--mules with back cloths; mules with
saddles; mules hitched to long wagons, buggies, and rickety gigs; mules
munching golden ears of corn, and mules drooping their heads in
sorrowful memory of better days.

Beyond the cotton warehouse smoked the chimneys of the seed-mill and the
cotton-gin; a red livery-stable faced them and all about three sides of
the square ran stores; big stores and small wide-windowed, narrow
stores. Some had old steps above the worn clay side-walks, and some were
flush with the ground. All had a general sense of dilapidation--save
one, the largest and most imposing, a three-story brick. This was
Caldwell's "Emporium"; and here Bles stopped and Miss Taylor entered.

Mr. Caldwell himself hurried forward; and the whole store, clerks and
customers, stood at attention, for Miss Taylor was yet new to the
county.

She bought a few trifles and then approached her main business.

"My brother wants some information about the county, Mr. Caldwell, and I
am only a teacher, and do not know much about conditions here."

"Ah! where do you teach?" asked Mr. Caldwell. He was certain he knew the
teachers of all the white schools in the county. Miss Taylor told him.
He stiffened slightly but perceptibly, like a man clicking the buckles
of his ready armor, and two townswomen who listened gradually turned