bited in Dutch advertisements, and on the signs of cross-roads groceries. When the present generation of active business men has passed away, their sons may advance with capacities better trained to estimate the curriculum of a choice instruction. Advancement has been made, and further improvement in the attitude of the general understanding cannot be checked. It must come, like the wave climbing to the breast of the cliff, at whose foot the spray of the on-coming waters is now hardly cast.

This half prophesy could not have been uttered years ago, as the writer lamentably felt, at his entrance upon the soil of Georgia. I had been placed in school for years-long enough to acquire, by moderate industry, some of the outlines of the wide fields open to the eye of judgment and imagination; a stubborn rust of habit had overgrown the body, and seemingly tended to the inertness of a reading life. A sudden misfortune as suddenly acted upon, wrested me from the shadows of the Green Mountains, and impelled me southward, where I expected to find rolling Savannahs instinct with majesty and quiet power, but where were found neglected fallowgrounds, overlaid with pine-knots and alive with lizards. An early frost had cut short the hope of the planter, and laid low the luxuriant beauty of Georgian vegetation. The climate seemed but the slow fever of a wasting land. Its mildness was a contrast to the repulsive features of the soil. Imagination had formed a false picture of perpetual blooms and the never-ceasing song of birds-falsely; ay, how falsely, he only can tell, who has never witnessed the fierce heats of noonday suns firing the air with tropic rays, whose vertical shafts are red-hot arrows, while a bastard simoom sweeps the land. How, then, can even a blown imagination reproduce the lithe vine, the tangled green of the thicket, the overheaped baskets of flowers wildly thrown by the early year broad-cast over forest and glade?

Vivid fancy and plastic form collected the shattered beauty of the Venus de Medicis; but, when Nature drops withered remains in Autumn's lap, what spirit shall call back the once unchallenged grace of her painting to the anatomy of the skeleton, save the revolution of that stern god, Time, that binds and unbinds, creates and destroys, delighting in the change and interchange

of the circle of things? My eager appetite for novel forms of natural loveliness kecked at the inferiority of the landscape of a Southern autumn, to the checkered livery of the Northern dolphin.

Perhaps, this disgust was increased by the ways of some of the people inhabiting the red hills and sandy bottoms of the arable lands. Quere: Reader, how would the fop Pelham or Beau Brummel have felt, once thrown into the society of Squire Westerns and Commodore Trunnions? Similarly, in manner, if not degree, did I feel, in exchanging the precise and select demeanor of teachers for the naturally fresh, though seemingly uncouth, ways of planters. Like many others, I came well laden with introductory letters, serviceable only for the moment, valuable only in forming speaking acquaintances, as the experience of many will testify. As the hunter for schools passes about among the people, a somewhat intimate knowledge is gained of the habits of the sturdy landlords. My first essay was by no means encouraging. The resources of introductions being exhausted, and with little benefit, I determined to conceal or not exhibit an equally large bundle of testimonials of capacity. Well, that I did. I have since seen some ludicrous receptions given to these wordy and cheap papers of ability, and had cause to thank prudence in this matter.

Throwing these into a corner of my trunk, I mounted a clay-bank colored nag, and rode to the hunt, thinking that fortune would smile upon the first effort--that the attempt would be of a Cæsarean type, “veni, vidi, vici." My visions of personal importance and overweening assumption were thoroughly dissipated in the course of two days. My horse proved worse than the rocking horse once used as a penalty for minor felonies.

This mode of conveyance for twenty or thirty miles was novel to me, and the novelty became the greater as observation showed it to be a general custom. Light vehicles are more in vogue now, but not sufficient to destroy the custom. Every one has his horse, like the Arab, however poor he may be, even if he wants the Irishman's more serviceable companion, the cow. Has the reader ever noticed the journey of Peverel on horseback through the west of England, which the masterly hand of the great Scotch novelist has illustrated

with his usual fascinating colors of national customs. If he has been lead by his curiosity in this matter, he will be pleased to note the correspondence between the times of the Commonwealth and our own day in this trivial point. The custom, and the rate of daily travel confined to an easy walk, are the samethus continuing a journey of days and weeks in the unvarying jog.

My day's ride ended in a hamlet called the "dark corner," with more of truth than poetry. Morning showed what the fatigue of the previous night had hid from view-the hotel-perhaps its repute in the vicinity was equal to that of metropolitan hotels, or those of fashionable watering-places. My attempts to procure a school were limited to a few inquiries-being satisfied with appearances, often worse than the actuality.

Here was another innovation on old ideas the day being Saturday, divine worship was held in the neighborhood on this and the succeeding day. Accepting the invitation of the landlord, with others, I went to the meetinghouse, prompted more by curiosity than devotion. The results of inquiry only quickened curiosity.

My lot was in the midst of "HardShell Baptists." This term "HardShell" has no reference to political divisions, whether of Northern, Western, or Southern origin; but was given to the denomination because, professing the same general creed as other Baptists, they withhold all support to foreign evangelical missions, against which they set their faces like flint. They are generally very plain pecple, indulging in no ostentation or luxury, mostly with moderate means, and for their proverbial honesty and promptness in paying debts may be called the Quakers of the South. They ape no style, are led away by no fashions, hate all popular innovations upon manners and beliefs, and esteem strong common-sense, unaided by disciplinary instruction, in its disconnected utterances, as superior to all the lumber of books and graces of schools. (Hence my efforts to teach were rationally durable.)

The meeting-house, whither we walked, was built of hewn logs, unceiled and unplastered, with sliding window-shutters of plank, having long benches placed, as in a school-room, for seats: it was situated in a grove, a short way from the hamlet, near a pleasant spring

of water. Hither, in the course of a few hours, came numerous planters with wives on pillions, now a horse, now a mule bearing two or three girls or boys -none coming in light wagons, or provincially "buggies."

Honest, quiet, and cordial greetings seemed perfectly natural to them all as they met in groups, intentionally or by accident, as by second nature, under the broad trees. Stranger as I was, I yet received the cordial grasp and the conversational coin of the day. After the discussion of planting interests and kindred topics was exhausted, a whitelocked father stood in the door, and proclaimed "The hour for service is cum, bretheren." Instantly, the buzz and laugh outside ceased, there was a smoothing of hair, cleansing of throats, brushing of clothes, a unanimous start for the doors, women to the right and men to the left. The staid members of the church took their seats near the pulpit; others in regular bench platoons, according to grade and age of piety and years; while the frolicsome fell back in the rear seats, behind whom were the slaves. When once within, and the eyes were cast about, the interior brings to mind the quaint conceit of old George Chapman :

ern worshippers in the woods. Form consists in the want of all forms; ceremony is only a traditional rule to follow general impulse. The fashionable choirs of cathedrals, the stiff routine of a village band of singers, or the fire-side songs by family voices, differ from the ragged surges of forest airs, ebbing and flowing with individual caprice, monotone, quaver, slide, slip and burst, in the same degree, manner, spirit, and originality, as Jullien's orchestral triumphs differ from the banjo tunes of a negro, in the back room of a "piney-woods" grocery. Bob Acres would describe them as perfect "masters and mistresses of flat and sharp, squallante, rumblante, and quiverante."

Thus far, as being but a poor singer, my judgment was liable to err; in the remainder, this deponent wishes to be understood as conforming to historic accuracy. After the songs, expectation labored through a deep silence of minutes for the uprising of the preacher. He uprose--a man of hard aspect, a covenanter in blood and deed, not a mark on him of silken orthodoxy, but clad in home-spun, hybrid cut, between the full Quaker dress, and the sportsman's roundabout. His locks were trimmed like the Puritans, who used to cut their hair along the rim of a basin turned over their heads; his low projecting forehead hung down on a large flat nose, nearly concealing the eyes beneath a shag of brows; a close shaven chin was dappled with the blue roots of a veteran beard; around the neck a cavernous stock, into which at times the chin sunk like a log swaying in deep waters; his narrow shoulders jerked, his long arms became violently excited, and twirled around and around in the loud parts of his sermon. Excitability no one would expect, who saw him stand peering over the seats, then contracted in a stolid mood, and predestinated hump, not deigning to speak, hardly to move, save the rolling eyes. Suspense was broken by an asthmatic note; he rasped his throat with another phlegmatic retch, raised the book high in the long arms, took a long look around-and laid the Bible down. He placed the handkerchief, which is usually esteemed the peculiar banner of the priesthood, under the lid. The preacher rested his arms on the desk, and breathed audibly. The chin fell within the rim of the open-mouthed stock. Again he stood erect, took out a purse, laid a bit of money on the desk,

and paused; again lifted up the book, read two verses from the Testament, replaced the book, wiped his mouth, and replaced the handkerchief in the consecrated spot, and spoke:

"Breethereen, I came to this text in a sing'lar way-I detarmined that I'd take hold of no text that didn't take hold of me-I read one text, and it didn't take hold of me; I read another, and it didn't, and so on and on, till I cum to the twelfth, and as it didn't take hold of me, 80 I took hold of it. Here it is, in the good book. Now, breethereen, do ye read yer Bibles? I want to see how many knows where them verses is found. Now, I'll bet this here dime" (showing the silver coin in the tips of his fingers) "none here kin tell me where them verses is found"-and the venerable preacher clenched the bet against the house, by a blow on the desk that would have felled an ox.

Does the reader need any comment other than his own manufacture? Make no illicit comparisons; comparisons have no place in such emergencies; wonder alone locks the senses in a pulseless, breathless rest. There is no buzz or mark of astonishment exhibited by the audience, other than the ordinary turn of the head. All seemed right; yet they looked as though they hoped some one would name the text rightly. The look showed nothing but a curiosity as to who would be the lucky one that could uphold the claim of "Hard Shells," touching their familiarity with the Bible. It was a challenge from the clergy to the laity. Would, could any dear brother or sister meet the preacher on his own ground? Curiosity began to slacken, to waver, became uncertain, finally came doubt, settling down into defeat. The preacher had the day, and in triumphant note would berate them for slothfulness, and send them home stung with his sarcasm. Hope was gone, when a lank, bony frame rose near the desk, buttoned up a blue over-all, that fell to his feet, and shrugged his angular shoulders. After all eyes were centered on him, he turned up his face to the preacher, and said, "Brother, it is a small bet, but I never let 'em pass," he referred the passage correctly, and sat down. "The money's yourn."

The preacher had met his match, and carried away no flag of triumph. The sermon which followed, was spoken languidly-energy, life, pointed and pert, were fled the repulse given by the lay

brother to the clergy, had broken the charm of the preacher's speech-his brain was pressed down with the incubus of chagrin. The war-note was changed for the evening hymn; the bugle gave place to the shepherd's pipe. The sermon closed; the announcement was given out that the "ord'nance of feet-washin' 'ud take place" on the morrow, in connection with the administration of the Lord's Supper. What? Did I hear aright? Feet-washing ?-what did it mean? Silence again was the best resort, through fear of exposing myself to laughter, by inquiring into the matter, or confessing to a scoffing spirit if found in error. My perplexity was broken by a short discussion in the course of the day, during which a “Hard" quoted the passages of "Scripter," taken as authority by the sect, for the institution and performance of public "feet-washing," as a religious rite.

Here was an episode in a school-master's life, unforeseen by Henry Brougham, when he sent the pedagogue "abroad;" for which, perhaps, the great reformer is unaccountable, as the rite is out of the establishment, and would be looked upon by High or Low Church with the same amazement as the old Roman Flamens portrayed, when told of the barbarous ritual of interior Germany.

On next day, the concourse of people at the "meetin' house" was larger than the day before. A new brother was expected to hold forth, causing some little bustle. His sermon, when begun, was original beyond the possibility of a doubt. His object seemed to be to delineate some of the proprieties of familiar intercourse, and check such of the practices as were unauthorized by "Hard Shell " usage. Several of the popular reforms and associations were bluntly rebuffed, or scouted as "in folly ripe and reason rotten." Maine Liquor Law was not then known as a political measure; yet the same ultimate end was foreshadowed by Temperance Societies and Sons of Temperance; this was enough for the spirit of the speaker, who levelled his heaviest guns against their batteries and felt himself successful in planting some stunning blows. He was a prose Anacreon in his adherence to Bacchus, as a duty in acknowledging the good things of the world, by a moderate use, reproving their abuse, keeping the golden mean and avoiding all extremes. Excess and Tee-totalism were his Scylla and Charybdis. To show that

he was within the pale of the "Primitives" in this matter, he narrated a case of discipline, in which Brother Dupeasy had been reproved by the church for over-indulgence in peach-brandy; and upon the assertion of Brother Dupeasy that he would never touch another drop so long as he lived, he was again reproved for rejecting the manifest gifts of mercy, and, moreover, the brother was ordered to continue his occasional glass but never to be overcome by the use. "That's the Primitive dectrine, is'nt it breetheren?”— a nodding of heads and bonnets on right and left fortified the worthy laborer in his exposition of tenets.

The General Mission spirit was slightly touched, as being a subject of too much magnitude to be embraced in a single sermon; still there was promised a future hour of reckoning against this Gorgon of Hydras.

As a final shifting of pulpit light, notice was taken of colloquial expressions, by this 'censor of public morals; in his appeals to the congregation for confirmations of his positions, he frequently turned to his associate in the desk, who sat behind him, and asked if such and such an assertion was not trueand was uniformly answered in the affirmative. His objurgations were mostly hurled towards idle words, cant forms of speech and popular slang: he was distressed in this matter, and labored loudly, dogmatically, and hotly, for thorough reform in these particulars. There was room for complaint, as his reception exhibited.

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Breethereen, it won't do, this talk ain't primitive; we must give up them worldly remarks-must we not brother? must we not sister?" The appeal direct was answered by a favoring nod from said brother and said sister. "Yes sir-ee and no sir-ee is slang terms and is forbidden. I don't like 'em, nor no brother don't like 'em; they despise 'em-they jeest 'bhor 'ein, kind o'naturally (and wheeling to his clerical brother in the back of the pulpit, exclaimed)-I'm detarmined to set my face agin 'em, now and for ever, like them brothers and sisters, ain't you brother?"

"Yes sir-ce, hoss!" replied the tripping divine. There was need of "line upon line," &c., to such a waiting people.

Exhortation finished the exercise; then followed an actual general washing of feet, by the members of the church; the women occupying one side, behind