The next day, having ridden thirty tedious miles through a sombre country, with a few large plantations, about six o’clock I called at the first house standing upon or near the road which I have seen for some time, and solicited a lodging. It was refused, by a woman. How far was it to the next house? I asked her. Two miles and a half. So I found it to be, but it was a deserted house, falling to decay, on an abandoned plantation. I rode several miles further, and it was growing dark, and threatening rain, before I came in sight of another. It was a short distance off the road, and approached by a private lane, from which it was separated by a grass plat. A well dressed man stood between the gate and the house. I stopped and bowed to him, but he turned his back upon me and walked to the house. I opened a gate and rode in. Two men were upon the gallery, but as they paid no attention to my presence when I stopped near them, I doubted if either were the master of the house. I asked, “Could I obtain a lodging here to-night, gentlemen?” One of them answered, surlily, “No.” I paused a moment that they might observe me—evidently a stranger benighted, with a fatigued horse, and then asked, “Can you tell me, sir, how far it is to a public-house?” “I don’t know,” replied the same man. I again remained silent a moment. “No public-houses in this section of the country, I reckon, sir,” said the other. “Do you know how far it is to the next house on the road, north of this?” “No,” answered one. “You’ll find one about two miles, or two miles and a half from here,” said the other. “Is it a house in which I shall be likely to get a lodging, do you know?” “I don’t know, I’m sure.”
“Good night, gentlemen; you’ll excuse me for troubling you. I am entirely a stranger in this region.”
A grunt, or inarticulate monosyllable, from one of them, was the only reply, and I rode away, glad that I had not been fated to spend an evening in such company.
Soon afterward I came to a house and stables close upon the road. There was a man on the gallery playing the fiddle. I asked, “Could you accommodate me here to-night, sir?” He stopped fiddling, and turned his head toward an open door, asking, “Wants to know if you can accommodate him?” “Accommodate him with what?” demanded a harsh-toned woman’s voice. “With a bed of course—what do you s’pose—ho! ho! ho!” and he went on fiddling again. I had, during this conversation, observed ranges of negro huts behind the stables, and perceived that it must be the overseer’s house of the plantation at which I had previously called. “Like master, like man,” I thought, and rode on, my inquiry not having been even answered.
I met a negro boy on the road, who told me it was about two miles to the next house, but he did not reckon that I would get in there. “How far to the next house beyond that?” “About four miles, sir, and I reckon you can get in there, master; I’ve heerd they did take in travellers to that place.”
Soon after this it began to rain and grow dark; so dark that I could not keep the road, for soon finding Belshazzar in difficulty, I got off and discovered that we were following up the dry bed of a small stream. In trying to get back I probably crossed the road, as I did not find it again, and wandered cautiously among trees for nearly an hour, at length coming to open country and a fence. Keeping this in sight, I rode on until I found a gate, entering at which, I followed a nearly straight and tolerable good road full an hour, as it seemed to me, at last coming to a large negro “settlement.”
I passed through it to the end of the rows, where was a cabin larger than the rest, facing on the space between the two lines of huts. A shout brought out the overseer. I begged for a night’s lodging; he was silent; I said that I had travelled far, was much fatigued and hungry; my horse was nearly knocked up, and I was a stranger in the country; I had lost my road, and only by good fortune had found my way here. At length, as I continued urging my need, he said—
“Well, I suppose you must stop. Ho, Byron! Here, Byron, take this man’s horse, and put him in my stable. ’Light, sir, and come in.”
Within I found his wife, a young woman, showily dressed—a caricature of the fashions of the day. Apparently, they had both been making a visit to neighbours, and but just come home. I was not received kindly, but at the request of her husband she brought out and set before me some cold corn-bread and fat bacon.
Before I had finished eating my supper, however, they both quite changed their manner, and the woman apologized for not having made coffee. The cook had gone to bed and the fire was out, she said. She presently ordered Byron, as he brought my saddle in, to get some “light-wood” and make a fire; said she was afraid I had made a poor supper, and set a chair by the fire-place for me as I drew away from the table.