Opposite our farm was one owned by a Mr. Juval, and adjoining that was another belonging to one White.  The McGees and the Whites were very fast friends, visiting each other regularly—­indeed they had grown up together, and Mr. White at one time was the lover of the madam, and engaged to be married to her.  This friendship had existed for years, when McGee bought the Juval farm, for which White had also been negotiating, but which he failed to get on account of McGee having out-bid him.  From this circumstance ill feeling was engendered between the two men, and they soon became bitter enemies.  McGee had decided to build a fence between the farm he had purchased and that of White, and, during the winter, his teamsters were set to hauling the rails; and, in unloading them, they accidentally threw some of them over the line on to White’s land.  The latter said nothing about the matter until spring, when he wrote McGee a letter, asking him to remove the rails from his land.  McGee paid no attention to the request, and he soon received a second note, when he said to his wife:  “That fellow is about to turn himself a fool—­I’ll give him a cow-hiding.”  A third and more emphatic note followed, in which White told the Boss that the rails must be removed within twenty-four hours.  He grew indignant, and, in true Southern style, he went immediately to town and bought arms, and prepared himself for the fray.  When he returned he had every hand on the plantation stop regular work, and put them all to building the fence.  I was of the number.  Boss and the overseer came out to overlook the work and hurry it on.  About four o’clock in the afternoon White put in an appearance, and came face to face with McGee, sitting on his horse and having a double barreled shot gun lying across the pummel of his saddle.  White passed on without saying a word, but Boss yelled at him; “Hello!  I see you are about to turn yourself a d—­d fool.”  White checked up and began to swear, saying:  “You are a coward to attack an unarmed man.”  He grew furious, took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, saying:  “Here I am, blow me to h—­l, and I’ll have some one blow you there before night.”  During White’s rage he said:  “I’ll fight you anywhere—­bowie-knife fight, shot gun fight or any other.”  He called, in his excitement, for his nephew, who was working on his farm, to come, and immediately sent him to Billy Duncan’s to get him a double barreled shot gun.  Meantime, Mrs. McGee appeared on the scene, and began to cry, begging White to stop and allow her to speak to him.  But he replied:  “Go off, go off, I don’t want to speak to you.”  Boss grew weak and sick, and through his excitement, was taken violently ill, vomiting as if he had taken an emetic.  He said to White; “I’ll return as soon as I take my wife home,” but he never came back.  As Boss and the madam rode off, White came galloping back, and said to Brooks, our overseer:  “If I am shot down on foul play would you speak of it?” Brooks replied: