The plantation of the old regime was tastefully laid out for beauty and productiveness.  Flower gardens and kitchen gardens stretched away into the magnificence of orange trees, shady avenues and fruitful plants.  Unbroken retreats of myrtle and laurel and tropical foliage, bantered the sun to do his worst.  Flowers perfumed the air; magnolia bloom and other rich tree flora regaled the senses; extensive orchards yielded fruit of all kinds adapted to the soil and climate; vineyards were heavy with much bearing.  Fields were carefully cultivated, till such a thing as the failure of crops was almost unknown.  It was largely supplied with sheep and their wool, with geese, ducks, turkeys, guinea fowls, and every variety of poultry without stint.  Eggs were gathered by the bushel, myriads of birds clouded the sun, and daily intoxicated their little brains with the juice of the black cherry.  Herds of cattle were luxuriously pastured by Pompey and his sable mates.

There were quantities of rich cheese, fresh butter, milk and cream.  Vast barns were gorged with corn, rice and hay; hives were bursting with honey; vegetables were luscious and exhaustless; melons sprinkled and dotted many acres of patches; shrimp and fish filled the waters; crawfish wriggled in the ditches; raccoons and opossums formed the theme of many a negro ditty.  Carriages and horses filled the stables, and splendid mules were well-fed and curried at the barns.  High up on the cypress trees hung the grey moss with which the upholsterer at yon market place replenished his furniture vans.  The farm produce alone yielded six or seven thousands a year, while the plantation crops of cotton, sugar, and rice were clear profit.  Rows of white cabins were the homes of the colored citizens of the community.  An infirmary stood apart for the sick.  The old grandams cared for the children.  Up yonder at the mansion house Black Mammy held sway in the nursery; Aunt Dinah was the cook; Aunt Rachel carried the housekeeper’s keys; while Jane and Ann, the mulatto ladies’ maids, flitted about on duty, and Jim and Jack “’tended on young marster and de gemman.”  Such hospitality as was made possible by that style of living can never repeat itself in changed conditions.  Grant that these conditions are improved.  Grant that the lifted incubus of slavery has opened the doors for the march of intellectual and industrial progress; the fact remains that the highest order of social enjoyment, and of the exercise of the charming amenities of life, was blotted out when the old plantation of Dixie land was divided up by the spoils of war.

It is interesting to read of the first attempt at a sugar crop in Louisiana by a Frenchman named Bore in 1794.  His indigo plant, once so profitable, had been attacked and destroyed by a worm, and dire poverty threatened.  He conceived the project of planting sugar cane.  The great question was would the syrup granulate; and hundreds gathered to watch the experiment.  It did granulate, and the first product sold for twelve thousand dollars—­a large sum at that time.