Her little log cottage was as clean as possible.
Her little log cottage was as clean as possible.
Went on to the Lewis's; found them very cheerful and just eating their midday meal. I went into the hut and so saw what it was, a very large spider full of hominy. That seemed the only thing, but they were perfectly content, their hunger being appeased by the abundance and heat of the meal, for it was steaming, not cooled unnecessarily as our food is by being transferred from one receptacle to another. The spider had the place of honor in the middle of the table. Each one was helped to a pan of hominy from it, and then retired out of doors to eat it.
They were all delighted with their frocks. I had collectedsome few men's garments for the gaberlunzie who owns the flock. But when I produced the calico frock for the wife she just overflowed with joy like a child. After many expressions of delight and satisfaction she retired to a corner to put it on, saying:—
"I'm sure, Miss Patience, no one could say I'm not a-needin' it, fo' I ain't had a chanct to wash this frock I got on till there comes a red-hot day, fo' I didn't have a thing to put on w'ile I'm a-washin' it."
When she appeared in it she swelled with pride and said:—
"The pusson that made this frock must-'a' measured me w'en I was a-sleepin'. No dressmaker could 'a' fit me so well."
I found that this poor soul had been for a week nursing a neighbor night and day, only leaving her long enough to walk the mile home and get her meals.
Mrs. Sullivan is very old as well as very ill and very poor, so that all the lifting and cooking and work of every kind Mrs. Lewis has done. When I said, "But you ought to get your meals there," she answered:—
"There isn't enough, Miss Patience, in the house but jus' for her, an' I'm thankful that we've got plenty o' grits to eat now; nobody need be hungry here."
It certainly is a lesson in more ways than one to go among those whose lives are so elementary. This woman, who has been accused of failing in her highest duties, who knows the daily presence of want, who has never had enough of anything but air and sunshine and the breath of life, spends day and night and all her strength in nursing a woman for the moment poorer than herself, in that she is old and helpless, and there is no feeling that she is doing anything unusual.
She put some of the dry hominy in a bucket and saying, "Now I mus' be goin'; Miss Sullivan begged me pitiful not to stay long," she took the bucket and started off at a briskwalk, but I asked her to sit on the back of the buckboard as I had to pass the house. This delighted her and we had much talk.
I asked if Mrs. Sullivan had no children who could help with the nursing. She said she had two.
"Yes, mum, she has a daughter, but she's mighty feeble an' she lives three miles away, an' it jes seems as if she couldn't get to cum to her mar; an' when she does git there, well, she's that tuckered out an' that sorry fur her mar, that she jes sets in to cry. Then Miss Sullivan's son lives with her, but he seems as if his mind was a-goin'; he kyan't do nothing."
"Doesn't he work?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, mum, he goes out an' works turpentine—that's all they've got to live on—but he don't think to cut a stick of wood, or bring a drop of water 'less'n you tell him to do it. His mar's too sick to tell him, an' he'll jes sit there an' see the fire go out an' never think. But soon as I tell him to cut a piece o' wood he'll do it right off. He's a big strong man an' they say a powerful fellow to work, but he don't seem to have no head to think."
I was sorry it was too late for me to go in and see the old woman and her son and find out what was wrong with the latter. I remember John very well. When I taught him in Sunday-school he was a very mischievous boy, but not stupid at all. I cannot think what has come to him.
The drive home was delightful. No automobile disputed the road with us this time.
Peaceville, October 27.
Had a message to-day from the man who rents the farm that he was ready to deliver his rent in kind. It was a little misty, but I had said I would be there, so rode out on horseback while Gibbie drove the ox wagon with the big rack to receive the corn and fodder. It is "much ado about nothing," but I was solemn and put down the little numbers in my bookas Mr. C. measured, though I did not dismount. The corn, fodder, and peas could all be carried in the wagon at one time, so one knows it is not a fortune. We have about 1800 acres of wild land, and in the middle of the tract is a little cabin where my father's stock-minder used to live, and every summer as we moved from the plantation, all the cattle were driven out into the pineland to spend the summer, and fatten on the rich grass of the savannahs—perhaps that is why we never heard of Texas fever among the cattle in those days. Certainly the imported stock which my father always kept throve and flourished, and they returned in November fat and hearty. Now it is impossible to do this for fear of their being stolen, and the summer on the plantation is hard on them.
The ride was delightful, the mist so soft and caressing. This has been a perfect autumn season, and I feel like clinging to the skirts of each day of crisp, cool temperature and glowing, gorgeous color. I want to keep winter off as long as possible.
November 6.
As I sat on the piazza to-day about noon a runner came to the step, an unknown negro. He looked exhausted, and I said: "You seem tired; sit on the step."
"Yes, Miss," he said. "Dem sen' me fu' bring yu' dis talifone messige, en dem say, 'Hurry.'"
He handed me a note, which I opened hastily. It was from the rector of All Saints, Waccamaw, saying: "Mrs. S. of Rose Hill is dead, and will be buried at The Oaks at 3 o'clock to-day."
At once I sent a message to Bonaparte to have the red boat and Elihu ready to take me over to Waccamaw and I followed as soon as I could have the buckboard got. I felt such a pang that I had allowed myself to be discouraged, and not gone over to see Mrs. S. when the impulse seized me to doso two weeks ago, and now her remarkable personality was gone.
When I got to the plantation I found that Elihu, with all the other men on the place, was cutting rice in No. 8, the field they had rented from me, which is some distance away, and it was late before I could get Elihu. When he finally appeared he seemed much indisposed for any exertion; said he was worn out; could not possibly row to Waccamaw, so I concluded I would have to give up going, and I said with a sigh: "I am sorry I cannot go. Mrs. S. was papa's cousin. I have never seen her since he took me to visit her when I was a child, and I would have liked to attend her funeral, to do the last honors to her."
I was just thinking aloud as I often do. The change was instantaneous, as though I had used a magic word. Elihu exclaimed, "Ole Mausa cousin fun'ral! Miss, yu's got to go, en I's got to tek yu; I kyan't trus' no one else for tek yu wanderin' trou' dem crick; I bleege to tek yu," and Bonaparte echoed like a dignified Greek chorus, "Ole Mausa cousin fun'ral. Yu got to go," repeated several times, as though life, death, eternity, nothing could count under such circumstances.
The red boat was rapidly got out. It was leaking badly, and they made a little platform of boards where I was to sit, to keep my feet dry. As I finally got settled in the boat I asked Bonaparte the time and found it was 3, the hour I should have been at The Oaks. However, being in the boat, having overcome so many obstacles, I determined not to be daunted by the lateness of the hour—also the clouds had gathered heavily and a sprinkle of rain was falling. I borrowed Bonaparte's competent looking silver watch, for no watch that I have ever owned could stand my strenuous life for more than three months, so that I have to do without one.
I asked Elihu when we would be back, as we glided through the first canal. He answered: "Not till long after dark." I remonstrated, "Why it surely is not further than Waverly," but he answered, "'E mos' twice es far." I felt a little dismayed, but we kept on through endless windings past Cherokee Canal, then Long Creek, then the Thoroughfare, and at last into the broad, beautiful Waccamaw. When we reached The Oaks, the competent watch pointed to five.
It was a deserted tropical looking landing, with no living thing in sight, only the ruins of some houses. I got out and followed the road until I saw across a field at some distance several vehicles. I walked toward them and found the procession had just arrived and were carrying the coffin into the graveyard, a private one, with high brick walls and many monuments of past generations. Among these is one to Gov. Joseph Alston (Mrs. S.'s uncle), the husband of the beautiful and ill-fated Theodosia Burr; also their son, Aaron Burr Alston, whose death almost broke the mother's heart.
The sacred spot looked very solemn with its heavy live oak shadows in the darkening afternoon.
Mrs. S. was 86, I believe, and a saint upon earth. Since the death of her twin sister some years ago she had lived alone on her plantation, doing all the good and kindness possible to the people around her, who had formerly belonged to her. For the past two years one of her nieces had been with her always and was with her on the plantation when she passed peacefully away. There were forty or fifty of her people who had followed her to the grave and stood near showing every sign of grief.
The sacred spot with its heavy live oak shadows.
The sacred spot with its heavy live oak shadows.
The beautiful service of our Church was read, and we sang "Rock of Ages," in which the negroes joined with great fervor, weeping softly and swaying in rhythm to the music. I had only a few minutes to see the family, as they had a long drive I knew, and I a long row as well as drive. Theykindly insisted on my being driven down to the boat, and I started home.
After that sudden gleam of sunshine the mist had settled down again over everything. How Elihu found his way through all those creeks was a marvel. I hoped when the moon appeared it would be clear; but it was covered with white clouds, which made a soft whiteness which was most confusing, and it looked to me always as though we were in an oval lake, from which there was no egress. It was most beautiful and mysterious, and I greatly enjoyed it. When I got home at 9 o'clock I was very tired and stiff from the four hours in the boat, for I had forgotten to take a cushion, but I was very glad I had gone.
Am going away from home for two weeks and always feel nervous and anxious as to how things will go on during my absence. I hate to leave Chloe so sick and suffering, for she misses me greatly and has only Dab to depend on in the yard. Besides, my neighbor has lost three fine horses in the last three days with blind staggers, and I feel as if I may find all mine dead when I get back.
Peaceville, November 3.
I drove up from Gregory alone yesterday, reaching the village just at dusk. I thought with delight of the peace and quiet of the pineland settlement after the distress and indignation which I had felt since I left it.
Dab ran to open the gate, and Chloe had a nice supper ready for me, but I felt something in the air that made me lose the restful feeling, and as soon as I had finished my dainty little meal and Dab had cleared away things Chloe came in arrayed in the spotless white apron and kerchief which I dread, for they mean something serious.
After a few trivial efforts on my part to keep on the surface, for I was so tired and did so wish to float a little while, Chloe cleared her throat and began:—
"Miss Pashuns, ma'am, I cry studdy frum Tuesday night till now."
"My dear Chloe," I exclaimed, really alarmed, "how distressing! Have you lost some of your family? Not your grandson, I trust!"
"No, ma'am, I wouldn't a-cried es much fu' dat! No, Miss Pashuns, dis is wuss! I cry en I cry en I cry."
"For Heaven's sake, tell me, Chloe, what has happened!"
"Miss Pashuns, I know it would dustress you so dat I wouldn't tell you till you dun eat yo' suppa, 'case I say maybe yu might faint 'way w'en yu hear."
"Oh, Chloe," I cried, "I will faint away now if you don't get on and tell me what has happened."
"Miss Pashuns, Dab shot Mr. 'Apa's dog!"
"Impossible, Chloe! When?"
Then followed a long narrative which I did not altogether understand, but she said: "Didn't bin fu my gone to see Mr. 'Apa an' cry an' baig um to wait till yu cum back Dab wud 'a' bin on de chain gang by now, fu Mr. 'Apa bin dun indict um, but I baig um for hab de case put off till yu cum back. Happen so I hear 'bout um een time."
I called for the lantern and went off at once to Mr. H. Chloe begged me not to go out alone into the night and said she thought Mr. H. and all the family would be in bed, but I felt I must know the worst before I went to bed.
When I knocked the door opened on a pretty picture of home, a beautiful young mother leaning over a six weeks' baby in a big rocking-chair used as a cradle and four boys sitting around the fire. I begged Mr. H. to speak with me a few minutes in the piazza, as I thought it best not to discuss the matter before all those boys, though it was certainly much more comfortable inside than out, for it was sharply cool. As soon as the door closed I exclaimed:—
"Mr. H., I am too distressed to hear that Dab has shot your dog! I cannot tell you how sorry I am! Is it dead?"
"No, Miss Pennington, he never shot the dog at all, and I don't think he meant to shoot him either. This is the way it happened:—
"I had been out on a deer hunt and was coming in a little after dark, my hound dog running ahead of me. I heard him bark at something when I got near my house, but it was too dark for me to see what it was till I heard the report of a pistol and saw the flash and the ball dropped near by me.
"When I got near enough to see it was Dab; he said the dog jumped at him and tore his pants and he shot to scare the dog, but he said he didn't shoot at him and I don't believe he did, but I indicted him because it was a very wrong thing for him to shoot right in the road that way;he might have shot some one; indeed he came mighty near hitting me, and he had no business shooting a pistol anyway; it's against the law.
"So I indicted him, but I told the Magistrate not to proceed till you got home."
I thanked him very much for his consideration and after making a little visit to the cosey party inside I went home. I asked him what I had better do, as I had not the faintest idea, never having had anything to do in law-courts.
He advised me to go and see the Magistrate and said that if any compromise could be made he would not push the case. He knew the punishment was a fine of $50 or thirty days on the chain gang.
I was quite overcome by his kindness and magnanimity in the matter and tried to say so, but by this time I was so exhausted that I fear I was not eloquent, to say the least.
This morning I interviewed Dab on the subject, speaking with all the force and wisdom I could. I cannot go to Judge H. until after to-morrow, for he will be busy with the election and have to go to Gregory, I believe—so I went to the plantation.
The quantity of peas gathered is most encouraging. I am quite delighted. I did not hope for half so many, and now the vines are being cut for hay with still a great many pods on them. It has not been cold enough yet to blast them.
The colts are growing finely and came running up as soon as they saw me. All the creatures, horses, cows, pigs, and sheep, are well, and I derived my usual refreshment and brightening by a few hours spent in God's good fresh air with the dumb things and the faithful trees, and came home quite cheerful and serene.
Peaceville, November 4.
I had a sleepless, miserable night; the thought of Dab's going to the chain gang for firing a pistol was too distressing,and I saw no possibility of raising $50. It was a great comfort to me that Mr. H. did not believe there was any malice or premeditation in the act, but I knew very well there were others who would think differently. I have no idea what the mental attitude of the magistrate will be.
I talked with Dab a long time and told him that while I would protect him always from injustice I would never support him in defying the law in any way. I recalled to his mind what a long fight I had made with him about a pistol, how when he was a little fellow and somehow got hold of a pistol which looked as though it might be the Adam of all firearms, I had a procession formed, he leading, Rab following, and I bringing up the rear, down to the creek, and there I made him give me the weapon and I threw it as far as I could out into the water.
It is very hard to know whether Dab is impressed or not. I told him how miserable it would make me to see him go to the chain gang after all the trouble I had taken with him, hoping to see him grow up a respectable, honest man. I could not keep the tears from coming now and then, but Dab's black face was sphinx-like in its immobility. I told him I had not $50 to pay, and that all I could do would be to go to the magistrate and plead the fact that it was his first offence, and that he did not really understand what a serious matter it was to fire a pistol on the public highway.
November 5.
Drove up this morning to see Mr. H. about Dab's case. He lives at one of the old plantation homes, which has passed into new hands. I have never seen it since, and was quite moved in going there. It is a long, rambling house, a stone's throw from the Pee Dee River, surrounded by live oaks.
I left Dab to hold Ruth some distance from the house,out of ear-shot. Mr. H. was holding court, so I could not see him at once, but his wife asked me in to the spick and span clean house and showed me her beautiful begonias, of which she asked me to accept cuttings, which I was pleased to do. When Mr. H. arrived I made my plea for Dab, and Mr. H. relieved my mind by saying as it was a first offence and Mr. A. was willing not to push it, he would try to arrange it "as light as possible."
He would send the Sheriff in a day or two for Dab, telling him to take the handcuffs along but not to use them unless Dab resisted arrest; but that if he came quietly, gave up the pistol and answered all questions frankly, he thought it could be arranged. He then set going a phonograph and treated me to "Rock of Ages" as sung by Trinity church choir, New York.O tempora, o mores!
I returned home, the horizon of my experience enlarged in an unexpected direction, wondering over the kindness of people generally, but very weary and worn with anxiety.
November 6.
The Sheriff came for Dab this morning while he was currying Ruth. Dab got his pistol from an old stump in the woods where he kept it hid, and gave it up and went quietly along. I do hope he will behave properly; he is always so respectful to me, but Chloe tells me he is not so to every one. If only the green-eyed monster could be eliminated, life would be easier.
10p.m.I was so restless this morning that I had to write a few lines. Then I went to the plantation and about 3 o'clock I started back and met Dab on the road, returning, looking somehow solemn and made over. I was overjoyed to see him and tried to extract from him some account of his experience, but in vain.
"I met Dab on the road."
"I met Dab on the road."
His stammer was terrific, and all I heard was that Mr. H.read the law at length to him and impressed upon him that as it was his first offence and I had guaranteed that it would never occur again he would only have to pay costs, but that if ever again he carried a concealed weapon and shot it within fifty feet of a public highway it would go hard with him. I feel too thankful and relieved for anything.
November 8.
Sunday. A very beautiful day, and I am always influenced by that, so I begin to feel rested and more cheerful. We had a very pleasant service in the little chapel, and though both the alto and myself were hoarse the hymns were comforting.
My little Sunday-school children came in the afternoon and were very sweet. The lesson may not do them much good, but it does me a great deal.
Cherokee steps.
Cherokee steps.
Cherokee, November 11.
Got down to the plantation early, expecting to send Gibbie out with the ox wagon to move the heavy things. Found he had sent a message to say he was sick—a sad state of things, hands digging potatoes and no one to plough down the beds. I went to see Gibbie to see if he were really sick or only resting after his month's night hunting.
I found him ill. I fear pneumonia. He is not strong enough for all that exposure at night. I refrained from saying "I told you so," but spoke very sympathizingly to him. His poor breath was so short; almost a pant.
I prescribed for him until we could get a doctor and had his wife lay a square of bacon skin sprinkled with turpentine over the side where the pain was. Then I sent for Green and told him he must take charge of the stable and cows until his brother should be out again, that I would let it go on his debt. He was very civil and said he would do his best, which was a great comfort. It has been a perfect day—bright, crisp, cool—and now that the effort is over it is delightful to be back in the large, pretty rooms of the Cherokee house, with everything pleasing to the eye within and without, and I feel very grateful to the Good Father. This is my mother's birthday and I would have liked to lay some flowers on her resting-place, but it was not possible, so I will go to-morrow.
Sunday, November 12.
Started very early and drove to Gregory with a great basket of beautiful roses. Was in time to attend service in the old church of Prince George—then I drove in to Woodstock and dined with my brother and was beguiled by the beautiful afternoon to stay rather late for my long drive alone.
The key to my front gate at Cherokee had been misplaced, and so I had to drive through the barn-yard way, which made it necessary to open four gates. It was quite dark by the time I reached the house and I was surprised to find it shut up and without a light. I tied Romola and went all around to try each door, but in vain; there was no one, and I concluded that Chloe had supposed I would spend the night at Woodstock and had gone in the woods to visit her sister.
Romola was weary and reluctant to start out again, but I determined the only thing to do was to go out to Bonaparte's house in the "street" and get him to come and break open a window for me to get in. I found it very hard to open all the gates again, but I got to the street safely andthere I found Chloe. She said she had gone after Rab, who had stayed out late playing with the children, and she was afraid to stay alone at the yard, having just heard of little old Grace's death, my former cook, whom I was expecting to come back.
November 14.
Great excitement over the illness of my little grade Guernsey heifer Winnie. I had three people working on her from 11 till 4. To-night she seemed better.
Gertie is going to be married, so I have taken a new girl, to be here a week before Gertie leaves and learn something from her. When I asked Gertie what she wanted me to give her as a wedding present, she answered, after much bridling and what would have been blushing if her onyx hue had permitted, "Ef you could, ma'am, I'd like the 'sperience dress."
"And what do you wish for that dress?"
"Pearl gray cashmere, please, ma'am."
"That sounds very pretty and bridelike, Gertie, but I'm afraid it will be expensive."
"Yes, ma'am, 'e cos' 20 cent a ya'd to Gregory."
Much relieved to hear the price, I promised readily to get it. I have already provided all the materials and had the cake baked for her.
November 15.
Was particularly busy this morning when old Katie arrived. She comes about once in two weeks to ask for whatever she needs, and has done so for years, and I clothe and feed her in this way, giving her just what she asks for. Wonderful to say, this time she brought me a present of four eggs and I was quite touched. I gave her four quarts of rice, some grist, a small piece of bacon, and some milk, and after the politeness of the moment I returned to my work. Had not been fifteen minutes when old Louisa came with a little present of potatoes and a long appeal for sympathy and aletter from her daughter which she wanted me to answer for her. This took a long time. I addressed and stamped an envelope which I enclosed, so that Louisa will certainly get an answer.
Just returning to the putting down of the carpet, which I have to superintend most carefully in every detail, when a man came to ask to rent the estate farm on the sea-shore, so that I only got two carpets down, and finished those very late.
My good Chloe is in very bad humor, and things are difficult. She is furious at my having taken Gibbie to milk and cut wood and be about the yard, though she acknowledges that he does his work well, but he does not come of a family from which house servants used to be taken, and all the negroes resent his elevation to employment around the house, though he does not enter it except to bring in wood, which he does faithfully.
December 1.
Have been worrying a great deal lately about the taxes; they are nearly $200 and I do not know where the money is to come from. Mr. S., who has for several years visited this section buying rice, has written to me several times asking if I had any rough rice to sell. I did not answer from sheer lachesse. I hated to say that I had none. The little I have made this year I must keep for seed. To-day I drove to Gregory and met Mr. S. in the street, and he stopped me and asked if I had never received his letter. I answered just the truth, that I had no rice at all this year except seed rice, and only a little old rice left over, on which I had been feeding my stock, and I knew he did not want that, but he asked me to send him a sample of that at once, which I gladly promised to do.
I bought the pearl gray cashmere for Gertie's "'sperience" dress, a lovely looking soft stuff, truly only 20 cents a yard;cotton, I suppose, but very pretty. Gertie was enchanted and said it was exactly right. Fashion is as exacting with them as with the highest social layer, and not to comply with what is just the last touch of elegance for a bride would be terrible to Gertie.
When I offered to give her the wedding dress she said it must be fine white lawn, and she would rather get it herself, as she knew where to get the finest, that means about 15 cents a yard, and she will have it made up in the latest fashion for 75 cents or $1 at the utmost.
December 7.
Took the long drive to Gregory again to receive and bring up a mare that has been sent me to keep for the winter. Having no one whom I can trust to go to Gregory without visiting the great moral institution, the Dispensary, I have to go myself and take Cable with me to lead the horse back. I have never taken him anywhere with me before, but he is a quiet, civil spoken negro, and comes of good family, and is not deaf like Gibbie, so I hired him to-day.
Met Mr. S. and he said he had written to offer $1 for one sample of rice and $1.05 for the other. I told him the letter had not reached me, but I would accept his offer. I tried not to let him see how surprised and delighted I was. After this I positively tread on air, for behold the tax problem solved, as I have nearly four hundred bushels.
To make my heart still lighter, Jim came to ask if he might speak to me, and he is anxious to come back. I think I discouraged him, unless his wife is willing to move into the country with him. He represents that he is getting very high wages, which he also represents that he certainly earns, for to use his own expression he "delivers a cow a day on his bicycle!" This marvellous statement means that he is working with a market, and delivers the supplies on a bicycle instead of a delivery wagon.
He says his health is wretched and he pines to come back to the country and to Ruth and Dandy and the other horses. I told him I could not possibly pay the wages he was getting, but he said he could save more with less wages in the country, which of course is true.
Altogether the day was a pleasant one in spite of fatigue and anxiety as to Nana's successful leading home. I proposed to Cable to ride her, but he seems very timid about horses, and though all battered and bruised from rough usage on the railroad she was full of spirit and anxious to have her own way.
I was afraid we might have trouble at the ferry, for Nana is a mountain horse and had never seen a ferry, accustomed to a bridge or a ford, and it would be decidedly awkward if she took a notion to ford the Black River, as it is (more or less) sixty feet deep at the ferry. I had behind the buckboard a bale of fruit trees from Berckman's done up in rye-straw, with the heads of rye left on. This Nana was so eager to get a good bite of, that she followed into the ferry without noticing where she was going, but when she found the flat in motion, she seemed frightened. I told Cable to let her eat all the rye she wanted and even the precious fruit trees, rather than have her begin to fight, and all went well. She stood quietly eating while we crossed.
December 8.
Not having yet succeeded in getting any one to patch the boiler to the threshing mill, I determined to go myself to Waverly and try to get some one. I sent Bonaparte to measure the cracks that I might take the measurements over with me, and told Gibbie to get the red boat ready for me. Gibbie, who is very deaf, did not hear "red" and I found him tugging at my white boat, which is up under the piazza, waiting to be caulked and painted. Fortunately I passed by and saw him, for it was an impossibility for him to move it unaided. Isucceeded in making him understand that he was to bring the red boat from the barn-yard to the house-landing for me.
I went in and turned the eggs in the incubator, filled and trimmed the lamp, donned my boating outfit, and went to the landing. A long wait and then Gibbie appeared, looking hopeless. "Miss, I kyan' fin' Bony no ways, en 'e got de oah en de oahlock shet up een de bahn."
I expressed great impatience at this. Bonaparte should not lock up my oars. I always have kept them at the house, but poor Bonaparte knows his own race so well that he has an infinite distrust of them and locks up everything until it has become a mania.
Having suggested every possible place to find Bonaparte, at last I said: "Have you looked in the boiler?"
"No, ma'am," with a wondering look.
"Well, look in there at once."
He soon returned at a run to say that "Uncle Tinny and Uncle Bony were both in the b'iler" and wanted a lantern. This was sent, and after a prolonged pause they both appeared with the measurements of the cracks.
I patiently tried to understand Tinny's explanation as to where the holes were, but in vain. At last I said: "Anthony, you just get in the boat and go over to Waverly with me and you can explain to Captain Frank where the damage is, so that he will know what materials to send when he sends a man."
"But, Miss, I ain't fix fo' go. Ef yo' been tell me yo' wan' me fo' go to Wav'ly wid yo', I'd a dress maself, but I ain' fix; look a' me."
I looked, and truly the little gnome was an object—an old, tattered derby hat, with the mellow green tint of age, a very dirty new bright green and white plaid shirt, which only emphasized the extraordinary patchwork nether garments and coat, from the pocket of which conspicuously protruded a bottle.
With a grave face I assured the old man that he was quite decent and must go, and that as he was a fine paddler he could paddle while Gibbie rowed and we would go like a steam tug. This reconciled him to going in his working trim, and we started—I sitting in the bow with Tag, my nondescript terrier, Gibbie in the middle with oars, and the gnome at the stern paddling.
All this delay had consumed hours and the sky had darkened and it felt like rain. Chloe came to the wharf to beg me to wait, but I had wasted so much time and patience that I could not put it off.
I soon found it was a special mercy that I had caught old Tinny and made him come, for Gibbie proved a poor oarsman and the wind was against us and very high, so though we had the tide our progress was not rapid, and I was glad to have the old man, who knows all about boats. With the head wind Tag and I, high in the bow, were a great disadvantage. I longed for Elihu, for I would have felt safer with him.
To make things worse, when we got into the broad Waccamaw where the whitecaps were dancing, a steamer passed up the river, making such big waves that Tinny wanted to turn back without crossing, but I was not willing, as we were more than halfway to the mills, and to my surprise Gibbie supported me and we went on. Fortunately I had taken what the negroes call an "'iler," a heavy rubber coat, to put over my knees. I had amused myself with pencil and pad, writing until the pad got too wet, for the water dashed in constantly. Poor Tag, straight up on his hind legs in the bow, looked out with dreary eyes, for at the best of times he hates water, and no doubt he said to himself that if he were a human he would have more sense than to leave a bright fire and comfortably carpeted room to be dashed and splashed in this way.
However, we reached the mill safely, and if only I had been successful in my errand, I would not mind, but Captain L. said he could not possibly spare any workman to send. This was a great blow, for I had written to him in June about it and he promised to send some one to repair the boiler, even naming a day when he would come. I do not know what to do now, for he knows all about such work and could tell me exactly what it was best to do, and I have such confidence in him. I did so wish to get the very little rice I have threshed out before Christmas. I will have to try to get a man from Gregory.
As I rowed up to the mills I came upon a flat heavily loaded with lightwood and recognized two of my men on it. I said, "Why, Billy, what are you doing here? Whose wood is that?"
"De my own."
Now I know why I have had so much trouble in getting my wood cut and sold. I had put Billy in charge and he has been steadily stealing my wood, he and his brother together, shipping it in a flat owned by their father, who is a gentleman of leisure living on his own land on a pension which he receives from the great Government of these United States.
Of course I will have to send Billy and Sol off the place after this discovery, for as Billy had been put in charge of the cutting and flatting of my wood and has so betrayed his trust, I cannot let him stay, but he will move to my neighbor's and continue no doubt to steal my wood, as his father's farm is very near my line. It is ten acres. Though every one on the place has known all summer what was going on, no one would give me the least hint of it, and I never would have known it if I had not made this trip to Waverly and come upon them in the act of unloading twelve cords of splendid lightwood. Of course it would be useless to take any legal steps when it is impossible to get testimony.
I got back very weary; it is astonishing how true the old saying is, "A cheerful heart goes all the day, while a sad one tires in a mile," and mine was very sad on the way home.
Cherokee, December 9.
Was very busy this morning writing letters to catch the mail which passes my gate at 11, when they came in to say that Annette wanted to see me "pa'tick'ler." I went out and said, rather shortly: "What can I do for you, Annette? This is a busy day and you must talk quickly." Annette twisted her hands together nervously once or twice, and then answered: "I came to baig you to make my will, ma'am."
"Why, Annette, do you feel ill?"
Her head went down and her apron came up, half covering her face, and she said:—
"No, ma'am, but I 'spects to be married again. I bin a fateful wife to St. Luke en' I bin a fateful widder to 'im f'r t'ree year; but now a very 'spectable man is co't me, en' I'se to be married next week, en' I wants to put all St. Luke proppity to 'e chillun, de house en' de fa'am between dem, en' de cow fer Annie, en' de two heffer between dem. De man I gwine marry got 'e own house en' fa'am, en' 'e seem to speak en' act very fair, but I wan' to lef' St. Luke chillun secure."
I was so delighted at this evidence of Annette's intelligence, knowledge of human nature, and loyalty to her dead husband's interest, that I forgot all about my important letters and drew up a most impressive document which I had her sign in the presence of three witnesses, being the disposal of real estate. She only "teched de pen," that is, put her hand on the end of the pen while I wrote her name, and she made a mark. When the will was satisfactorily executed she wanted me to keep it, but this I declined to do, advising her to give it into her mother's care, if she preferred not to keep it herself.
December 10.
Went to church, though there was a gale blowing and the trees looked very dangerous buckling and bending over the road. Ruth behaved well, though she did not like it. When I got back, bringing L. to dinner with me, I found Jim waiting to see me, having ridden up from Gregory on his bicycle. He said he wanted to come back, that his wife was not only willing but anxious for him to come, as she had no pleasure in his life in town, he was so ailing and worked so hard. He begged me to take him. The only thing he wanted to ask was that I would let him spend every Sunday in Gregory, for he sang in the choir in his church and didn't want to give up the music. I told him I would always do so if possible, but that there might be circumstances which would make it impossible to spare him on Sunday.
The smoke-house at Cherokee for meat curing.
The smoke-house at Cherokee for meat curing.
He cannot come until he gets some one to take his place, but as he is coming I will put off the meat curing and sausage making until he comes, for my mother taught him the best way of doing all that, and it makes it so much easier than undertaking it with a green hand. Jim is to do almost everything, under our present agreement; but Gibbie is still to milk and to keep the stables clean and cut wood for the house.
December 11.
Lent Bonaparte the ox wagon and team to go to Gregory and lay in his household supplies. Sent a note to Billy P.—and his brother, who had been selling the lightwood for themselvesinstead of for me, telling them to leave the place with their families at once. Of course I should have taken the money for the wood, but I could not make up my mind to do that without some legal process, and as I could not get any witness to testify against them any legal process was impossible. If I had ordered them to give me one-half the money, quite possibly they might have done it; but they might have refused to do it and I would then have been powerless. I am very careful not to give any order which I cannot have obeyed.
December 12.
Billy and Sol came to beg me to let them stay until January, but I told them I had trusted them and they had betrayed my trust and must go at once. I hate to lose their wives, who are good workers, and their little children, who come to say catechism and sing hymns and have a stick of candy every Sunday afternoon. Sol's wife, Aphrodite, is such a specimen of health and maternal vigor that I delight to see her going to work with her procession of little ones behind her. The men themselves are strong, able-bodied workers, and I shall miss them; but once having begun to depredate upon me, nothing will stop them.
I find now that recently they have been living out of my vegetable garden, and the potato banks have been robbed and there are dark hints as to their guilt in that, too. I told them they must whip their rice out by hand at once so as to pay their rent, and take the rest with them. It is a sad state of things that one is unable to secure redress in any way for depredation, and so the only thing to do when a tenant goes wrong in this way is to send him off, so that unless one winks at evil deeds or condones offences, one will soon be without hands entirely.