A RUN OF LUCK
It was natural that the war and its results should bring about great changes in the South; but I never fully realized what a wonderful change had been wrought until, a dozen years after the struggle, business, combined with pleasure, led me to visit the old Moreland Place, in middle Georgia. The whole neighborhood for miles around had been familiar to my youth, and was still dear to my memory. Driving along the well-remembered road, I conjured up the brilliant and picturesque spectacle that the Moreland Place presented when I saw it last: a stately house on a wooded hill, the huge, white pillars that supported the porch rising high enough to catch the reflection of a rosy sunset, the porch itself and the beautiful lawn in front filled with a happy crowd of lovely women and gallant men, young and old, the wide avenues lined with carriages, and the whole place lit up (as it were) and alive with the gay commo-
