patches to the timber had opened in the sun, and let the rain and the worm burrow in its sides, till some parts had crumbled entirely away.  At one corner the process of decay had gone on till roof, superstructure, and foundation had rotted down and left an opening large enough to admit a coach and four horses.  The huge chimneys which had graced the gable-ends of the building were fallen in, leaving only a mass of sticks and clay to tell of their existence, and two wide openings to show how great a figure they had once made in the world.  A small space in front of the cabin would have been a lawn, had the grass been willing to grow upon it; and a few acres of cleared land in its rear might have passed for a garden, had it not been entirely overgrown with young pines and stubble.  This primitive structure was once the ‘mansion’ of that broad plantation, and, before the production of turpentine came into fashion in that region, its rude owner drew his support from its few surrounding acres, more truly independent than the present aristocratic proprietor, who, raising only one article, and buying all his provisions, was forced to draw his support from the Yankee or the Englishman.

Only one room, about forty feet square, occupied the interior of the cabin.  It once contained several apartments, vestiges of which still remained, but the partitions had been torn away to fit it for its present uses.  What those uses were, a moment’s observation showed me.

In the middle of the floor, which was mostly rotted away, a space about fifteen feet square was covered with thick pine planking, strongly nailed to the beams.  In the centre of this planking an oaken block was firmly bolted, and to it was fastened a strong iron staple that held a log-chain, to which was attached a pair of shackles.  Above this, was a queer frame-work of oak, somewhat resembling the contrivance for drying fruit I have seen in Yankee farm-houses.  Attached to the rafters by stout pieces of timber, were two hickory poles, placed horizontally, and about four feet apart, the lower one rather more than eight feet from the floor.  This was the whipping-rack, and hanging to it were several stout whips with short hickory handles, and long triple lashes.  I took one down for closer inspection, and found burned into the wood, in large letters, the words ‘Moral Suasion.’  I questioned the appropriateness of the label, but the Colonel insisted with great gravity that the whip is the only ‘moral suasion’ a darky is capable of understanding.

When punishment is inflicted on one of the Colonel’s negroes, his feet are confined in the shackles, his arms tied above his head, and drawn by a stout cord up to one of the horizontal poles; then, his back bared to the waist, and standing on tip-toe, with every muscle stretched to its utmost tension, he takes ‘de lashes.’