committed. The woods are full of fighters, and pirates harry the
coast. On the wall of the room where I write there are carbines
that have done service in Indian wars and in the Revolutionary War;
and here out of the window I can see hundreds of black heads-slaves,
brought from Africa and the Indies, slaves whose devotion to my
uncle is very great. I hear them singing now; over the white-tipped
cotton-fields there flows the sound of it.

This plantation has none of the vices that belong to slavery. Here
life is complete. The plantation is one great workshop where trades
are learned and carried out-shoeing, blacksmithing, building,
working in wood and metal.

I am learning here--you see I am quite old, for I am twenty-one now
--the art of management. They tell me that when my uncle's day is
done--I grieve to think it is not far off--I must take the rod of
control. I work very, very hard. I have to learn figures and
finance; I have to see how all the work is done, so that I shall
know it is done right. I have had to discipline the supervisors and
bookkeepers, inspect and check the output, superintend the packing,
and arrange for the sale of the crop-yes, I arranged for the sale of
this year's crop myself. So I live the practical life, and when I
say that you could make your home here and win success, I do it with
some knowledge.

I beg you take ship for the Virginian coast. Enter upon the new
life here with faith and courage. Have no fear. Heaven that has
thus far helped you will guide you to the end.

I write without my mother's permission, but my uncle knows, and