The magnolia drooped its ivory tassels, and scented the
forest with perfume. The kalmia and the alder gave undergrowth and
brilliancy to the foliage. Hoary and green with precipitate old age, the
cypress-trees stood in moisture, and drooped their venerable beards from
angular branches, the bald cypress overhanging its evergreen kinsman,
and looking down upon the swamp-woods in autumn, like some hermit artist
on the rich pigments on his palette.
But nothing looked so noble as the sweet gum, which rose like a giant
plume of yellow and orange, a chief in joyous finery, where the cypress
was only a faded philosopher.
Beside such a tall gum-tree Samson Hat reined in, where a well-spring
shone at the bottom of a hollow cypress. He borrowed a bucket from the
hut across the road, and watered the horses.
"Marster," ventured the negro, "dey say your gran'daddy sot dis spring."
"Yes," said Milburn, "and built the cabin. Yonder he lies, on the knoll
by that stump, up in the field: he and more of our wasted race."
"And yon woman is a Milburn," added the negro, socially. "I know her by
de hands."
The barefoot woman living in the cabin--one room and a loft, and the
floor but a few inches above the ground--cried out, impudently:
"If I could have two horses I'd buy a better hat!"
Milburn did not answer, but marked the poor, small corn ears ungathered
on the fodderless stalks, the shrubs of peach-trees, of which the
largest grew on his ancestors' graves, the little cart for one horse or
ox, which was at once family carriage and farm wagon, and the few pigs
and chickens of stunted breeds around the woman's feet.
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