It was fur a little town in one of the latter that we
pinted ourselves, Doctor Kirby and me and Sam--
right into the blackest part of the black belt.
That country is full of big-sized plantations,
where they raise cotton, cotton, cotton, and then
MORE cotton. Some of 'em raises fruit, too, and
other things, of course; but cotton is the main
stand-by, and it looks like it always will be.
Some places there shows that things can't be
so awful much changed since slavery days, and
most of the niggers are sure enough country niggers
yet. Some rents their land right out from the
owners, and some of 'em crops it on the shares,
and very many of 'em jest works as hands. A lot of
'em don't do nigh so well now as they did when their
bosses was their masters, they tell me; and then
agin, some has done right well on their own hook.
They intrusted me, because I never had been use
to looking at so many niggers. Every way you
turn there they is niggers and then more niggers.
Them that thinks they is awful easy to handle
out of a natcheral respect fur white folks has got
another guess coming. They ain't so bad to get
along with if you keep it most pintedly shoved
into their heads they IS niggers. You got to do
that especial in the black belt, jest because they
IS so many of 'em.
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