Mr. Wilson was not
an exception to this rule. The society into which he was thrown,
on his arrival at Natchez, was too brilliant for him not to be
captivated by it, and, as might have been expected, he succeeded
in captivating a plantation with seventy slaves if not the heart
of the lady to whom it belonged.
Added to this, he became a popular preacher, and had a large
congregation with a snug salary. Like other planters, Mr. Wilson
confided the care of his farm to Ned Huckelby, an overseer of high
reputation in his way.
The Poplar Farm, as it was. called, was situated in a beautiful
valley, nine miles from Natchez, and near the Mississippi River.
The once unshorn face of nature had given way, and the farm now
blossomed with a splendid harvest. The neat cottage stood in a
grove, where Lombardy poplars lift their tops almost to prop the
skies, where the willow, locust and horse-chestnut trees spread
forth their branches, and flowers never ceased to blossom.
This was the parson's country residence, where the family spent
only two months during the year. His town residence was a fine
villa, seated on the brow of a hill at the edge of the city.
It was in the kitchen of this house that Agnes found her new home.
Mr. Wilson was every inch a democrat, and early resolved that "his
people," as he called his slaves should be well-fed and not
over-worked, and therefore laid down the law and gospel to the
overseer as well as to the slaves. "It is my wish," said he to Mr.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42