to whom it belonged.

Added to this, he became a popular preacher, and had a large
congregation with a snug salary. Like other planters,
Mr. Wilson confided the care of his farm to Ned Huckelby,
an overseer of high reputation in his way.

The Poplar Farm, as it was called, was situated in a beautiful valley,
nine miles from Natchez, and near the Mississippi River.
The once unshorn face of nature had given way, and the farm now
blossomed with a splendid harvest. The neat cottage stood in a grove,
where Lombardy poplars lift their tops almost to prop the skies,
where the willow, locust, and horse-chestnut trees spread forth
their branches, and flowers never ceased to blossom.

This was the parson's country residence, where the family spent only
two months during the year. His town residence was a fine villa,
seated on the brow of a hill, at the edge of the city.

It was in the kitchen of this house that Agnes found her new home.
Mr. Wilson was every inch a democrat, and early resolved that "his people,"
as he called his slaves, should be well-fed and not over-worked, and therefore
laid down the law and gospel to the overseer as well as to the slaves.
"It is my wish," said he to Mr. Carlingham, an old school-fellow
who was spending a few days with him,--"It is my wish that a new system
be adopted on the plantations in this State. I believe that the sons
of Ham should have the gospel, and I intend that mine shall have it.
The gospel is calculated to make mankind better and none should
be without it."