The Newtown bee., 1899-02-03

city to visit we all." No one visits ex- clusively the family in the ssbig house" on plantation where the old time dark les are found and he comes to grief who attempts it.
 sWeighed and found wanting'' is the verdict returned by the loyal attaches against the visitor, who, like the frog | ''a-wooing goes," laboring under the de- fusion that his suit Is won or lost in the | 1 parlor, and needs only to be pressed there. Every darky on the place that could be spared from his or her work was peeping around one side or the other of the house when the carriage that had been sent to meet me at the station drove up to the front gate.
 They made no effort at concealment, but simply went through what they con- sidered the proper form on such occasions standing far enough out to see well, while pretending to make an effort to hide behind the angles of the porch, cor ners of the bay windows or convenient shrubbery.
 Southern born and knowing my au. dience, stiffened up like 8 drum major and strode up the walk with as near the air of ''coDquering hero'' as I could command; feeling sorry that my silk hat was not on my head, where it would have made me almost an assured success, in- stead of in my hat box.
 Uncle Ben, the driver of the carriage, coming in for almost as much attention as myself, as he struggled along in the rear with heavy load, composed of my baggage, gun and shell boxes; his pro found dignity an exaggerstion of rnI own. To have shown by word or sigI any knowledge of the fact that the cIowt of servants were watching and audibll criticising me would have been-in thei Opinion-a serious breach of etiquet, ant would have resulted in grave doubts o my being "real quality" So with bolt but discreet, looks to the right and left 1 mounted the broad front steps, strucl the old fashioned knocker, and turne, to dismiss Uncle Ben, who had folIowet and placed my baggage on the porch The old-fashioned coachman does not en
 
 wants; but stops at the entrance. if in deed he leaves his team St all, which b, only does with those to whom he wishe to pay marked attention. As he 6acke down the steps, lowing his thanks, sn' showirg 2 by unmistakable signs that m genuineness was firmly established i his mind, the door opened and my fai hostess welcomed me to "The Elms.
 Within 24 hours of my arrival was aC quainted with all of the 'boys' and girls and 'uncles' and 'aunties' as the ia are classified, on the place; all of maj k darkies being boys until they reach tn }. stage of uncle, and all of the female Il girIs until age and dignity puts thenr in " All of the field hands learned my nam at once, and never failed to show thei worries to the remotest molar as the
 bowed and pulled at their old hat Whe of we met. The oracle of the big house 0 , .? the plantation is the cook. She molds an y forms the opinions of the other servant: Iy and influences in greater or lesser de i gree that of the family she serves. She lr nearly always an "auntie," and is ss a. gressiVe, bigoted, uncompromisiDg, kint le faithful, and efficient. A dear old par, Il. dox, alternately beloved and feared b Se the entire household. 1 knew her we 9D and respected her accOrdil glg, and 8
 way s sought an opportunity to pr0pir 1e ate her as soon as possible after my arr ar val at the various hospirable souther ir homes it had been my happy lot to Visi