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around; these under grass, those under cotton, these again under rice.
Maize and tobacco grow on every side, and overhead hangs a sky like that of Cyprus.
Here cattle browse; there herdsmen trot.
Negroes with creels of cotton on their heads slouch and dawdle into the town.
The scene is pastoral and poetic; English in the main features, yet with forms of life and dots of colour to remind you of the Niger rather than the Trent.
Frame houses, painted white, with colonnades and gardens, nestle in shady nooks and cluster round hill-sides.
About these villas romp and shout such boys and girls as New England poets find under apple-trees in Kent.
What roses on their cheeks; what bravery in their eyes!
Here glows the fine old English blood, as bright and red in Georgia as in York and Somerset.
But for her Negro population, Georgia would have an English look.
The Negro is a fact-though not the fact of facts — in Georgia.
Unlike Louisiana, Mississippi, and South Carolina-States in which the Black element is stronger in number than the White-Georgia has a White majority of votes; yet her
1875.
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