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Po' Sandy      39

mill beyond.  Our carriage jolted over the half-rotted corduroy road which traversed the swamp, and then climbed the long hill leading to the sawmill.  When we reached the mill, the foreman had gone over to a neighboring farmhouse, probably to smoke or gossip, and we were compelled to await his return before we could transact our business.  We remained seated in the carriage, a few rods from the mill, and watched the leisurely movements of the mill-hands.  We had not waited long before a huge pine log was placed in position, the machinery of the mill was set in motion, and circular saw began to eat its way through the log, with a loud whir which resounded throughout the vicinity of the mill.  The sound rose and fell in a sort of rhythmic cadence, which, heard from where we sat, was not unpleasing, and not loud enough to prevent conversation.  When the saw