His wife reckoned he might hire some help if he’d look round sharp.
My horse and dog were as well cared for as possible, and a “snack” of bacon and corn-bread was offered me for noon, which has been unusual in Mississippi. When I asked what I should pay, the man hesitated and said he reckoned what I had had, wasn’t worth much of anything; he was sorry he could not have accommodated me better. I offered him a dollar, for which he thanked me warmly. It is the first instance of hesitation in charging for a lodging which I have met with from a stranger at the South.
Northern Alabama, June 15th.—I have to-day reached a more distinctly hilly country—somewhat rocky and rugged, but with inviting dells. The soil is sandy and less frequently fertile; cotton-fields are seen only at long intervals, the crops on the small proportion of cultivated land being chiefly corn and oats. I notice also that white men are more commonly at work in the fields than negroes, and this as well in the cultivation of cotton as of corn.
The larger number of the dwellings are rude log huts, of only one room, and that unwholesomely crowded. I saw in and about one of them, not more than fifteen feet square, five grown persons, and as many children. Occasionally, however, the monotony of these huts is agreeably varied by neat, white, frame houses. At one such, I dined to-day, and was comfortably entertained. The owner held a number of slaves, but made no cotton. He owned a saw mill, was the postmaster of the neighbourhood, and had been in the Legislature.
I asked him why the capital had been changed from Tuscaloosa to Montgomery. He did not know. “Because Montgomery is more central and easy of access, probably,” I suggested. “No, I don’t think that had anything to do with it.” “Is Tuscaloosa an unhealthy place?” “No, sir; healthier than Montgomery, I reckon.” “Was it then simply because the people of the southern districts were stronger, and used their power to make the capital more convenient of access to themselves?” “Well, no, I don’t think that was it, exactly. The fact is, sir, the people here are not like you northern people; they don’t reason out everything so. They are fond of change, and they got tired of Tuscaloosa; the Montgomery folks wanted it there and offered to pay for moving it, so they let ’em have it; ’t was just for a change.” “If there really was no better reason, was it not rather wasteful to give up all the public buildings at Tuscaloosa?” “Oh, the Montgomery people wanted it so bad they promised to pay for building a new State House; so it did not cost anything.”
Quite on a par with the economics of southern commercial conventions.
I passed the night at the second framed house that I saw during the day, stopping early in order to avail myself of its promise of comfort. It was attractively situated on a hilltop, with a peach orchard near it. The proprietor owned a dozen slaves, and “made cotton,” he said, “with other crops.” He had some of his neighbours at tea and at breakfast; sociable, kindly people, satisfied with themselves and their circumstances, which I judged from their conversation had been recently improving. One coming in, remarked that he had discharged a white labourer whom he had employed for some time past; the others congratulated him on being “shet” of him; all seemed to have noticed him as a bad, lazy man; he had often been seen lounging in the field, rapping the negroes with his hoe if they didn’t work to suit him. “He was about the meanest white man I ever see,” said a woman; “he was a heap meaner ’n niggers. I reckon niggers would come somewhere between white folks and such as he.” “The first thing I tell a man,” said another, “when I hire him, is, ‘if there’s any whippin’ to be done on this place I want to do it myself.’ If I saw a man rappin’ my niggers with a hoe-handle, as I see him, durned if I wouldn’t rap him—the lazy whelp.”
One of the negroes complimented my horse. “Dar’s a heap of genus in dat yar hoss’s head!” The proprietor looked after the feeding himself.
These people were extremely kind; inquiring with the simplest good feeling about my domestic relations and the purpose of my journey. When I left, one of them walked a quarter of a mile to make sure that I went upon the right road. The charge for entertainment, though it was unusually good, was a quarter of a dollar less than I have paid before, which I mention, not as Mr. De Bow would suppose,[10] out of gratitude for the moderation, but as an indication of the habits of the people, showing, as it may, either closer calculation, or that the district grows its own supplies, and can furnish food cheaper than those in which attention is more exclusively given to cotton.