Profitable and interesting amusements were always needed at the Corners, the nearest place to the “Poplar Farm.” At the tavern, post-office, and the store, all the neighborhood assembled to read the news, compare notes, and to talk politics.

Shows seldom ventured to stop there, for want of sufficient patronage. Once in three months, however, they had a “Gander Snatching,” which never failed to draw together large numbers of ladies as well as gentlemen, the elite, as well as the common. The getter-up of this entertainment would procure a gander of the wild goose species. This bird had a long neck, which was large as it rose above the breast, but tapered gradually, for more than half the length, until it became small and serpent-like in form, terminating in a long, slim head, and peaked bill. The head and neck of the gander was well-greased; the legs were tied together with a strong cord, and the bird was then fastened by its legs, to a swinging limb of a tree. The Snatchers were to be on horseback, and were to start fifteen or twenty rods from the gander, riding at full speed, and, as they passed along under the bird, they had the right to pull his head off if they could. To accelerate the speed of the horses, a man was stationed a few feet from the gander, with orders to give every horse a cut with his whip, as he went by.

Sometimes the bird’s head would be caught by ten or a dozen before they would succeed in pulling it off, which was necessary; often by the sudden jump of the animal, or the rider having taken a little too much wine, he would fall from his horse, which event would give additional interest to the “Snatching.”

The poor gander would frequently show far more sagacity than its torturers. After having its head caught once or twice, the gander would draw up its head, or dodge out of the way. Sometimes the snatcher would have in his hand a bit of sandpaper, which would enable him to make a tighter grasp. But this mode was generally considered unfair, and, on one occasion, caused a duel in which both parties were severely wounded.

But the most costly and injurious amusement that the people in our section entered into was that of card-playing, a species of gambling too much indulged in throughout the entire South. This amusement causes much sadness, for it often occurs that gentlemen lose large sums at the gambling-table, frequently seriously embarrassing themselves, sometimes bringing ruin upon whole families.

Mr. Oscar Smith, residing near “Poplar Farm,” took a trip to St. Louis, thence to New Orleans and back. On the steamer he was beguiled into gaming.

“Go call my boy, steward,” said Mr. Smith, as he took his cards one by one from the table.

In a few moments a fine-looking, bright-eyed mulatto boy, apparently about fifteen years of age, was standing by his master’s side at the table.

“I will see you and five hundred dollars better,” said Smith, as his servant Jerry approached the table.

“What price do you set on that boy?” asked Johnson, as he took a roll of bills from his pocket.

“He will bring a thousand dollars, any day, in the New Orleans market,” replied Smith.

“Then you bet the whole of the boy, do you?”

“Yes.”

“I call you, then,” said Johnson, at the same time spreading his cards out upon the table.

“You have beat me,” said Smith, as soon as he saw the cards.

Jerry, who was standing on top of the table, with the bank-notes and silver dollars round his feet, was now ordered to descend from the table.

“You will not forget that you belong to me,” said Johnson, as the young slave was stepping from the table to a chair.

“No, sir,” replied the chattel.

“Now go back to your bed, and be up in time to-morrow morning to brush my clothes and clean my boots, do you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” responded Jerry, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

As Mr. Smith left the gaming-table, he said: “I claim the right of redeeming that boy, Mr. Johnson. My father gave him to me when I came of age, and I promised not to part with him.”

“Most certainly, sir, the boy shall be yours whenever you hand me over a cool thousand,” replied Johnson.

The next morning, as the passengers were assembling in the breakfast saloons, and upon the guards of the vessel, and the servants were seen running about waiting upon or looking for their masters, poor Jerry was entering his new master’s state-room with his boots.

The genuine wit of the negro is often a marvel to the whites, and this wit or humor, as it may be called, is brought out in various ways. Not unfrequently is it exhibited by the black, when he really means to be very solemn.

Thus our Sampey met Davidson’s Joe, on the road to the Corners, and called out to him several times without getting an answer. At last, Joe, appearing much annoyed, stopped, looked at Sampey in an attitude of surprise, and exclaimed: “Ain’t you got no manners? Whare’s your eyes? Don’t you see I is a funeral?”

It was not till then that Sampey saw that Joe had a box in his arms, resembling a coffin, in which was a deceased negro child. The negro would often show his wit to the disadvantage of his master or mistress.

When visitors were at “Poplar Farm,” Dr. Gaines would frequently call in Cato to sing a song or crack a joke, for the amusement of the company. On one occasion, requesting the servant to give a toast, at the same time handing the negro a glass of wine, the latter took the glass, held it up, looked at it, began to show his ivory, and said:

The same servant going to meeting one Sabbath, was met on the road by Major Ben. O’Fallon, who was riding on horseback, with a hoisted umbrella to keep the rain off. The Major, seeing the negro trudging along bareheaded and with something under his coat, supposing he had stolen some article which he was attempting to hide, said, “What’s that you’ve got under your coat, boy?”

“Nothin’, sir, but my hat,” replied the slave, and at the same time drawing forth a second-hand beaver.

“Is it yours?” inquired the Major.

“Yes, sir,” was the quick response of the negro.

“Well,” continued the Major, “if it is yours, why don’t you wear it and save your head from the rain?”

“Oh!” replied the servant, with a smile of seeming satisfaction, “de head belongs to massa an’ de hat belongs to me. Let massa take care of his property, an’ I’ll take care of mine.”

Dr. Gaines, while taking a neighbor out to the pig sty, to show him some choice hogs that he intended for the next winter’s bacon, said to Dolly who was feeding the pigs: “How much lard do you think you can get out of that big hog, Dolly?”

The old negress scratched her wooly head, put on a thoughtful look, and replied, “I specks I can get a pail full, ef de pail aint too big.”

“I reckon you can,” responded the master.

The ladies are not without their recreation, the most common of which is snuff-dipping. A snuff-box or bottle is carried, and with it a very small stick or cane, which has been chewed at the end until it forms a small mop. The little dippers or sticks are sold in bundles for the use of the ladies, and can be bought simply cut in the requisite lengths or chewed ready for use. This the dipper moistens with saliva, and dips into the snuff-box, and then lifts the mop thus loaded inside the lips. In some parts they courteously hand round the snuff and dipper, or place a plentiful supply of snuff on the table, into which all the company may dip.

Amongst even the better classes of whites, the ladies would often assemble in considerable numbers, especially during revival meeting times, place a wash-dish in the middle of the room, all gather around it, commence snuff-dipping, and all using the wash-dish as a common spittoon.

Every well bred lady carries her own snuff-box and dipper. Generally during church service, where the clergyman is a little prosy, snuff-dipping is indispensible.