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Letter XI Aug. 15th I was out last night ’Possum-­hunting, and snatch an early hour this morning to describe to you the important affair, amusing enough, certainly, if not very profitable . For several days past, the “niggers,” on bringing in the daily cart-­ load of water-melons for house-­consumption, have been loud in complaints of the robberies committed by the “’Possums;” and though it would be perfectly competentforthesesablegentlementoimputetoMr .Possumtheirowndelinquencies, the value of a water-­ melon is scarcely a sufficient inducement even for a negro to lie and thieve, seeing that he has abundantly more than he can devour in his own patch, and those, in all probability, finer and better grown than “mas’r’s.” The report was therefore received with all due credit, and an expedition against the ’Possums was resolved on as soon as the vis inertiae could be overcome. By the aid of my persuasions this consummation was achieved last evening, and we determined on a sally. As soon as field-­ work was done, and supper swallowed, preparations commenced .Theoverseerblewhishorntocallsuchofthehandsaswerewithinhearing ,outofwhomsomehalf-­a-­dozenwereselected,nothingloth;forSambolikes the wild excitement of a hunt, especially by night, as well as his betters, and enters into it with as much zeal and zest. One or two were set to saddle the horses, others to collect the dogs of the establishment, and others to search up axes for fellingtrees,knivesforclearingawaytangledbriersinthewoods,andafewother small implements, while another was sent into the swamp to procure a dozen pine-­ knots for torches. Meanwhile the overseer was busy with lead, ladle, and bullet-mould, at the smithy fire, casting ball for the rifles. These preliminaries disposed of an hour or more; there was no hurry, for it would have been useless to go out until night was well commenced, as it was desirable to allow the depredators full time to issue from their retreats, and begin their nocturnal business in the melon-­ patches. About half-­ past nine, then, we set out, a goodly and picturesque cavalcade. There was, first, my worthy host, Major Kendrick, a stout sun-­ burnt fellow of six feet two, as erect as a sundial, grizzled a little with the labours of some sixty Letters from Alabama 179 years in the back woods of Georgia, but still hale and strong, with as keen an eye for a wild-­cat or a ’coon as the stalwart nephews by his side. His attire would be deemed peculiar with you, though here it is the approved thing. A Panama hat made of the leaves of the palmetto, split fine, low in the crown, and very broad in the flap; a “hunting shirt,” or frock, of pink-­ striped gingham, open all down the front, but girded with a belt of the same; the neck, which is wide and open, is bordered with a frill, which lies upon the shoulders; loose trowsers, of no describable colour, pattern, or material; short cotton socks, and stout half-boots, of domestic manufacture. Such is the costume of our “king of men,” and all the rest of us approach as near to it as we may. But who are “the rest of us?” Why, the two strapping youths, who call the planter uncle, Zachariah and Bill, each emulous of his patron’s stature and accomplishments ; Jones, the overseer, a wiry fellow, originally from the far east (Connecticut, I believe), but grown a south­erner by a dozen years’ experience in negro-­ driving; and the humble individual who pens these lines, who begins at length to be known by his proper name, instead of “the stranger.” We five were mounted on very capital steeds, and behind and around us marched on foot our sable ministers. It was a lovely night. The sky, almost cloudless, had a depth of tint that was rather purple than blue; and the moon, near the full, was already approaching the zenith. A gentle breeze, warm and balmy, breathed in the summits of the trees, and wafted to us the delicate perfumes from leaf, flower, and fruit, from gum and balsam, with which the night air is commonly loaded. Bright as was the night, however, it was thought requisite to have artificial light, especially as we should have to explore some tall woods, whose gloomy recesses the moon’s beams were quite insufficient to illuminate. The knots of the pitch-­pine answer admirably for torches, being full of resin, and maintaining a brilliant flame for an hour or more. The glare of broad red light which these flambeaux...

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