Its the late 1800s in Savannah, Georgia, on a warm fall evening, you are walking down the street and hear the familiar lines of Shakespeare coming from inside a bar. Outside the bar lay a couple of Chesapeake Bay retrievers patiently waiting for someone. Intrigued, you step inside, as the smoke burns your eyes and your nose fills with the smell of whiskey you see a figure in a wide-brimmed Stetson hat and a handlebar mustache quoting sonnets and speaking Latin. The man in the hat is Ward Allen, heir to the Allen Plantation and the last of Savannah's market hunters.