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.