The first is the most valuable. The ground is hoed for planting the latter part of March; but as frosts are not infrequent the beginning of April, it is judicious not to plant before that time. Cotton is of a very tender nature. A frost, or even a chilling wind, has power to destroy the rising plant, and compel the Planter to begin anew his toil.

The winds in autumn are so tempestuous that they tear up the largest trees by the roots. Homer, some thousand years ago, witnessed a similar scene:

Leaves, arms and trees aloft in air are blown, "The broad oaks crackle, and the sylvans groan; "This way and that, the rattling thicket bends, "And the whole forest in one crash descends."

Of the feathered race, the mocking-bird first claims my notice. It is perfectly domestic, and sings frequently for hours on the roof of a log-house. It is held sacred by the natives. Even children respect the bird whose imitative powers are so delightful.*

I heard the mocking-bird for the first time on the first day of March. It was warbling, close to my window, from a tree called by some the Pride of India, and by others the Poison-berry Tree. Its song was faint, re

[* Cf. Castiglioni, Viaggio negli Stati Uniti, 1785, 1786, 1787, Milan. 1790. I, 357.-"The mocking-bird is bought at extravagant prices by the English. At Boston the price is often three to four guineas."]

sembling that of birds hailing the rising sun; but it became stronger as the spring advanced. The premices of this mocking songster could not but delight me; and I adressed the bird in an irregular Ode, which Mrs. Drayton did me the honour to approve.

ODE TO THE MOCKING-BIRD.

SWEET bird, whose imitative strain, Of all thy race can counterfeit the note, And with a burthen'd heart complain, Or to the song of joy attune the throat;

To thee I touch the string,

While at my casement, from the neighb'ring tree,

Thou hail'st the coming spring,

And plaintive pour'st thy voice, or mock'st with merry glee.

Thou bringest to my mind.

The characters we find

Amid the motley scenes of human life;

How very few appear

The garb of truth to wear,

But with a borrow'd voice, conceal a heart of strife.

Sure then, with wisdom fraught,

Thou art by nature taught Dissembled joy in others to describe;

And when the mournful heart

Assumes a sprightly part,

To note the cheat, and with thy mocking chide.

But when, with midnight song,

Thou sing'st the woods among,

And softer feelings in the heart awake;*

Sure then thy rolling note

Does sympathy denote,

And shews thou can'st of others' grief partake.

Pour out thy lengthen'd strain †

With woe and grief complain,

And blend thy sorrows in the mournful lay;
Thy moving tale reveal,

Make me soft pity feel,

I love in silent woe to pass the day.

The humming bird was often caught in the bells of flowers. It is remarkable for its variegated plumage of scarlet, green, and gold.

The whip-poor-will is heard after the last frost, when, towards night, it fills the woods with its melancholy cry of Whip poor Will! Whip poor Will! I remember to have seen mention made of this bird in a Latin poem, written by an early Colonist.

Hic Avis repetens, Whip! Whip! Will, voce jocosa, Quæ tota verno tempore nocte canit.

The note of the red-bird is imitated with nice precision by the mocking-bird; but there

Pietas et Gratulatio, p. 89,—a slightly different philosophy: that of the ode is dubious. The importance of this bird, in the pages of the early traveller, is suggested by the frequent mention in Davis's book.]

is a bird called the loggerhead that will not bear passively its taunts. His cry resembles Clink, clink, clank; which, should the mocking-bird presume to imitate it, he flies and attacks the mimic for his insolence. But this only incurs a repetition of the offence; so true is it that among birds as well as men, anger serves only to sharpen the edge of ridicule. It is observable, that the loggerhead is known to suck the eggs of the mocking-bird and devour the young ones in the nest.

Eagles were often seen on the plantation. The rencounter between one of them and a fish-hawk is curious. When the fish-hawk has seized his prey, his object is to get above the eagle; but when unable to succeed, the king of birds darts on him fiercely, at whose approach the hawk, with a horrid cry, lets fall the fish, which the eagle catches in his beak before it descends to the ground.

The woods abound with deer, the hunting of which forms the chief diversion of the Planters. I never failed to accompany my neighbours in their parties, but I cannot say that I derived much pleasure from standing several hours behind a tree.

This mode of hunting is, perhaps, not generally known. On riding to a convenient spot in the woods, the hunters dismount, take their stands at certain distances, hitch their horses to a tree, and prepare their guns,-while a

couple of negroes lead the beagles into the thickest of the forest. The barking of the dogs announces the deer are dislodged, and on whatever side they run, the sportsmen fire at them from their lurking places. The first day two bucks passed near my tree. I heard the cry of the dogs and put my gun on a whole cock. The first buck glided by me with the rapidity of lightning, but the second I wounded with my fire, as was evident from his twitching his tail between his legs in the agony of pain. I heard Colonel Pastell exclaim from the next tree, after discharging his piece,

By heaven, that fellow is wounded, let us (6 mount and follow him,-he cannot run far." I accompanied the venerable Colonel through the woods, and in a few minutes, directed by the scent of a beagle, we reached the spot where the deer had fallen. It was a noble buck, and we dined on it like kings.*

Fatal accidents sometimes attend the hunters in the woods. Two brothers a few years ago, having taken their respective stands behind a tree, the elder fired at a deer which the dogs had started; but, his shot being diverted by a fence, it flew off and lodged in the body of his brother. The deer passing on, the wounded brother discharged his gun which had been prepared, killed the animal, and staggering a

[* Cf. John Bernard, Retrospections of America, New York, 1887. pp. 206, 207 (South Carolina, temp. 1800, deerhunting by torchlight).]