lake. This bears out the words of Mr. R. A. King that "the lake has widened on the west side, by washing of the waves, over two hundred yards since 1857."
We left Abeham to cook a supper of fish which he had caught while waiting for us in the Feeder. Your southern darky is a natural fisherman. Like a thrifty housewife who takes out her knitting between-whiles, he will bait a hook and fish while he is "doin' nuffin'." And what a picture of contentment he is while fishing! Look at Abeham, here, just waiting while we have gone up a "gum road,"—for we tried faithfully to explore all the avenues, wet and dry, leading into the swamp, on our way round the lake.
The southern negro is the freest man in civilization, as he ought to be, for Heaven knows he has had enough of bondage. He is striking the balance now. He works just when he chooses, and he loafs when he chooses. He is not only politically, but socially, free. He has no ambitions, no pretensions, and hardly any responsibilities. He is the sugary element in the grinding sand of our civilization. Lazy? Why shouldn't he be lazy if it seems best to him? Suppose he begins to dig and scrape and grow thrifty and hard and mean as progress and society make us? Suppose he learns to sell with
