"Immense droves of hogs were continually arriving from the country by the
road that led to most of our favourite walks; they were often fed and
lodged in the prettiest valleys, and worse still, were slaughtered beside
the prettiest streams. Another evil threatened us from the same quarter,
that was yet heavier. Our cottage had an ample piazza, (a luxury almost
universal in the country houses of America,) which, shaded by a group of
acacias, made a delightful sitting-room; from this favourite spot we one
day perceived symptoms of building in a field close to it; with much
anxiety we hastened to the spot, and asked what building was to be erected
there. ''Tis to be a slaughter-house for hogs,' was the dreadful reply.
As there were several gentlemen's houses in the neighbourhood, I asked if
such an erection might not be indicted as a nuisance. 'A what?' 'A
nuisance,' I repeated, and explained what I meant. 'No, no,' was the reply,
'that may do very well for your tyrannical country, where a rich man's
nose is more thought of than a poor man's mouth; but hogs be profitable
produce here, and we be too free for such a law as that, I guess.
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