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BELLE PLAIN.
"Now, Tom," said Betty, with a bustling little air of excitement as she rose from the breakfast table that first morning at Belle Plain, "I am ready if you are.

I want you to show me everything!" "I reckon you'll notice some changes," remarked Tom.
He went from the room and down the hall a step or two in advance of her.
On the wide porch Betty paused, breathing deep.

The house stood on an eminence; directly before it at the bottom of the slight descent was a small bayou, beyond this the forest stretched away in one unbroken mass to the Mississippi.

Here and there, gleaming in the brilliant morning light, some great bend of the river was visible through the trees, while the Arkansas coast, blue and distant, piled up against the far horizon.
"What is it you want to see, anyhow, Betty ?" Tom demanded, turning on her.
"Everything--the place, Tom--Belle Plain! Oh, isn't it beautiful! I had no idea how lovely it was!" cried Betty, as with her eyes still fixed on the distant panorama of woods and water she went down the steps, Tom at her heels--he bet she'd get sick of it all soon enough, that was one comfort! "Why, Tom! Why does the lawn look like this ?" "Like what ?" inquired Tom.
"Why, this--all weeds and briers, and the paths overgrown ?" and as Betty surveyed the unkempt waste that had once been a lawn, a little frown fixed itself on her smooth brow.
Mr.Ware rubbed his chin reflectively with the back of his hand.
"That sort of thing looked all right, Bet," he said, "but it kept five or six of the best hands out of the fields right at the busiest time of the year." "Haven't I slaves enough ?" she asked.
The dull color crept into Ware's cheeks.