Victors of husbandry, they share not of the spoils; nor is the sweat
of their brows repaid with justice.

Near these cabins, mere specks in the distance, are two large sheds,
under which are primitive mills, wherein negroes grind corn for
their humble meal. Returning from the field at night, hungry and
fatigued, he who gets a turn at the mill first is the luckiest
fellow. Now that the workpeople are busily engaged on the
plantation, the cabins are in charge of two nurses, matronly-looking
old bodies, who are vainly endeavouring to keep in order numerous
growing specimens of the race too young to destroy a grub at the
root of a cotton plant. The task is indeed a difficult one, they
being as unruly as an excited Congress. They gambol round the door,
make pert faces at old mamma, and seem as happy as snakes in the
spring sun. Some are in a nude state, others have bits of frocks
covering hapless portions of their bodies; they are imps of mischief
personified, yet our heart bounds with sympathy for them. Alive with
comicality, they move us, almost unconsciously, to fondle them. And
yet we know not why we would fondle the sable "rascals." One knot is
larking on the grass, running, toddling, yelling, and hooting;
another, ankle-deep in mud, clench together and roll among the
ducks, work their clawy fingers through the tufts of each other's
crispy hair, and enjoy their childish sports with an air of genial
happiness; while a third sit in a circle beside an oak tree, playing
with "Dash," whose tail they pull without stint. "Dash" is the
faithful and favourite dog; he rather likes a saucy young "nigger,"
and, while feeling himself equal to the very best in the clan, will
permit the small fry, without resenting the injury, to pull his
tail.