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I spent many seasons in the South; sometimes I was in Natchez and Vicksburg, and at the plantations along the coast, but generally the greater portion of my time was spent in the city of New Orleans. I have been witness to many queer scenes in this southern country, the relation of which shall occupy this chapter. They were all written long after they occurred, and in the order in which they presented themselves to my memory; so that this portion of my narrative will, perhaps, be more desultory and unconnected than any other.

Some years ago, about the close of the winter season, I found myself in Natchez, at the residence of a family for whom I had worked in New Orleans, and who had given me a pressing invitation to come to see them at Natchez. Having heard so much of the beauties of the residences in the vicinity of that city, surpassing those of the English nobility, and feeling myself quite mean at having seen those of England before the beauties of my own country, I determined to see and judge for myself.

When I arrived, I was perfectly delighted both with the people and scenery. I went to Mr. H.'s, and staid some two weeks, and during that time I assure you I was not idle. I was all around, in the country, in the