people sat down to diner and this was not an unusual occasion, but a thing that happened nearly every day, as his home was convenient to the town and all of his acquaintances knew they would receive a warm welcome if they took a ride and dropped in to dinner. I knew a lady who paid a visit to Hope Estate which lasted for more than fifteen years, and of a gentleman who paid a call one morning when he was a very young man and never left until his hair was white and the old colonel had been dead for some years.
One of my father's brothers and one of my mother's brothers had married daughters of Colonel Hickey, and their children and the other grandchildren ranged in years from young gentlemen and ladies old enough to go into society, to boys and girls of my own age. There was a herd of horses which roamed about the great pasture and every child had his mount—the young ladies and gentlemen of the family disdained mustang ponies and possessed highly bred Kentucky saddlers. The great event of the year at Hope Estate was when the sugar-making season arrived. Then all was life and bustle: the fires were lighted and the open kettles of cane juice began to boil while the slaves feeding cane to the carrier which carried it to the great iron rollers would burst into song. The sugar-house was some distance from the residence and when night came the young people and their guests would mount their horses and proceed there to eat colon (taffy) and drink vin de cane (sugar-cane juice) into which some of the older people would put a little spirits if they felt so disposed. With the glare of the furnaces and of the torches around the carrier, it was a pretty picture and of course the young people danced—they always did in the South in those days when two or three boys and girls got together. Toward midnight a start for home was in order. We boys always got off ahead of the older people. The narrow road lay between fields of tall waving and rustling cane calculated in
