Within is a fireplace,
black and smoky, and usually unsteady with age. A bed or
two, a table, a wooden chest, and a few chairs compose the
furniture; while a stray show-bill or a newspaper makes up
the decorations for the walls. Now and then one may find
such a cabin kept scrupulously neat, with merry steaming
fireplaces and hospitable door; but the majority are dirty and
dilapidated, smelling of eating and sleeping, poorly venti-
lated, and anything but homes.
Above all, the cabins are crowded. We have come to associ-
ate crowding with homes in cities almost exclusively. This is
primarily because we have so little accurate knowledge of
country life. Here in Dougherty County one may find families
of eight and ten occupying one or two rooms, and for every
ten rooms of house accommodation for the Negroes there are
twenty-five persons. The worst tenement abominations of
New York do not have above twenty-two persons for every
ten rooms. Of course, one small, close room in a city,
without a yard, is in many respects worse than the larger
single country room. In other respects it is better; it has glass
windows, a decent chimney, and a trustworthy floor.
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