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Updated: June 12, 2025
Ploughshares had to be imported, but harrows and sleds were made without difficulty; and the cooper work was well done. Chaff beds were thrown on the floor of the loft, if the house-owner was well off. Each cabin had a hand-mill and a hominy block; the last was borrowed from the Indians, and was only a large block of wood, with a hole burned in the top, as a mortar, where the pestle was worked.
By this time we had unloaded, and proceeded to the shore to bring a second load before night came on. We brought up two chests of our own clothes and property, some chests of tools, the cart-wheels, and the hand-mill, likely now to be of use for the cassava. After unloading, we sat down to an excellent supper of turtle, with potatoes, instead of bread.
Upon this, the wife bethought herself of a way how, she might remove her husband's jealousy, and at the same time revenge herself on the parrot, which she effected thus: Her husband being gone another journey, she commanded a slave, in the night time, to turn a hand-mill under the parrot's cage; she ordered another to throw water, in form of rain, over the cage; and a third to take a glass, and turn it to the right and to the left before the parrot, so as the reflections of the candle might shine on its face.
In one which was opened was found a round pillar seven feet high and eighteen inches across, which was standing upright in the centre of the tomb. There was a hand-mill for grinding corn in shape like those still in use in the country a knife ten inches long, a hatchet like a reaping-hook, and a tiger's head of natural size, all of stone.
Naturally the children watched the growth of the tasselled corn with hungry eagerness until the milky ears were fit for roasting. When they hardened, the grains were pounded into hominy in the hominy-block, or else ground into meal in the rough hand-mill, made of two limestones in a hollow sycamore log.
Often she would sit idle at the hand-mill, a light in her eyes that I would have given kingdoms for. One ever memorable morning, early in the crisp autumn, a grizzled man strode up the trail, and Polly Ann dropped the ear of corn she was husking and stood still, her bosom heaving. It was Mr. McChesney, Tom's father alone. "No, Polly Ann," he cried, "there ain't nuthin' happened.
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