They never seemed to re-build on these spots--whether from superstition or other reasons, I know not.
Occasionally we came to great piles of barrels of turpentine, rosin and tar, some of which had laid there since the blockade had cut off communication with the outer world.

Many of the barrels of rosin had burst, and their contents melted in the heat of the sun, had run over the ground like streams of lava, covering it to a depth of many inches.
At the enormous price rosin, tar and turpentine were commanding in the markets of the world, each of these piles represented a superb fortune.
Any one of them, if lying upon the docks of New York, would have yielded enough to make every one of us upon the train comfortable for life.
But a few months after the blockade was raised, and they sank to one-thirtieth of their present value.
These terebinthine stores were the property of the plantation lords of the lowlands of North Carolina, who correspond to the pinchbeck barons of the rice districts of South Carolina.

As there, the whites and negros we saw were of the lowest, most squalid type of humanity.

The people of the middle and upland districts of North Carolina are a much superior race to the same class in South Carolina.

They are mostly of Scotch-Irish descent, with a strong infusion of English-Quaker blood, and resemble much the best of the Virginians.