cotton and corn fields of vast extent, and a negro village on every plantation, at a respectful distance from the habitation of the proprietor.  Evergreen trees of the oak family and others, which I mentioned in my last letter, are generally planted about the mansions.  Some of them are surrounded with dreary clearings, full of the standing trunks of dead pines; others are pleasantly situated in the edge of woods, intersected by winding paths.  A ramble, or a ride—­a ride on a hand-gallop it should be—­in these pine woods, on a fine March day, when the weather has all the spirit of our March days without its severity, is one of the most delightful recreations in the world.  The paths are upon a white sand, which, when not frequently travelled, is very firm under foot; on all sides you are surrounded by noble stems of trees, towering to an immense height, from whose summits, far above you, the wind is drawing deep and grand harmonies; and often your way is beside a marsh, verdant with magnolias, where the yellow jessamine, now in flower, fills the air with fragrance, and the bamboo-briar, an evergreen creeper, twines itself with various other plants, which never shed their leaves in winter.  These woods abound in game, which, you will believe me when I say, I had rather start than shoot,—­flocks of turtle-doves, rabbits rising and scudding before you; bevies of quails, partridges they call them here, chirping almost under your horse’s feet; wild ducks swimming in the pools, and wild turkeys, which are frequently shot by the practiced sportsman.

But you must hear of the corn-shucking.  The one at which I was present was given on purpose that I might witness the humors of the Carolina negroes.  A huge fire of light-wood was made near the corn-house.  Light-wood is the wood of the long-leaved pine, and is so called, not because it is light, for it is almost the heaviest wood in the world, but because it gives more light than any other fuel.  In clearing land, the pines are girdled and suffered to stand; the outer portion of the wood decays and falls off; the inner part, which is saturated with turpentine, remains upright for years, and constitutes the planter’s provision of fuel.  When a supply is wanted, one of these dead trunks is felled by the axe.  The abundance of light-wood is one of the boasts of South Carolina.  Wherever you are, if you happen to be chilly, you may have a fire extempore; a bit of light-wood and a coal give you a bright blaze and a strong heat in an instant.  The negroes make fires of it in the fields where they work; and, when the mornings are wet and chilly, in the pens where they are milking the cows.  At a plantation, where I passed a frosty night, I saw fires in a small inclosure, and was told by the lady of the house that she had ordered them to be made to warm the cattle.