Gibbie and the oxen.
Gibbie and the oxen.
March 25.
Good Friday. B. and her dear little party arrived safely at 1 o'clock. It had poured all night and part of the morning, so I was anxious about them. The children are lovely, the baby like a sweet flower with her heaven touched blue eyes. Unfortunately their trunks went astray in some way and Dab returned with the wagon empty, except for the baby carriage.
Easter Sunday, March 27.
A beautiful day and charming service. The collection was for missions and our delight was great at finding it was a little over $12. It will pay up our apportionment. I drove our rector to church in Peaceville and then let him have the buckboard and Ruth to go on to St. Peter's, while I came home with my dear little neighbor, who dined with me.
A number of little darkies came to Sunday-school and sang very nicely. Lizette came for the first time. She is about 14, very tall and gawky, but with a good face. She knows not a word of the catechism, while Goliah and theother little ones say their Creed, the Ten Commandments, and that most comprehensive duty to God and duty to one's neighbor, glibly. The Easter hymn which they have been learning for a month, "Christ the Lord is Risen To-day," went beautifully. They left with great speed after receiving a double portion of candy in honor of Easter.
After they had gone, I went out to enjoy the exquisite afternoon, with its rosy golden light, and there at the foot of the steps was a huge snake. I looked for a long pole and killed it after a fight. While I was finding the stick it had got under the house, which made it harder to kill it. It did not seem quite dead and the puppy wanted to play with it, so I went into the yard and got the axe and chopped off its head, and as Prince, who has no country sense, still wanted to get the head, I buried it quite deep, all of which somewhat interfered with my enjoyment of the peace and beauty of the Easter gloaming. It makes one think, when these terrible discords come into the harmonies of a perfect day, must the trail of the serpent creep into everything?
Am I yielding to the temptation of getting too much amusement out of my dusky little scholars? Do I not agonize over them sufficiently? That may well be. It seems so hopeless to reach below the surface, so hard to influence the spirit, the life, by this hour's teaching once a week. Still I must do what I can; I cannot see them follow their blind leaders without making an effort to help them.
It does not come to them as it does to the heathen, who have never heard of God, as something new, a revelation. They hear great professions of religion and calls upon the Lord, and yet there is the daily example of deceit, faithless work, the snatching up of any and everything that can be stolen unseen. To be discovered is the only sin; you may lie, break any of the Commandments, only don't let it be found out. This going on daily, hourly, yearly, who butthe Holy Spirit can contend against it? I constantly tell them that when they have all these good words stored in their minds, or rather their memories, and at their command, they have only to call them up, when Satan attacks them, to be able to defeat him. Even our blessed Saviour when tempted by the Evil One did not answer in his own words, but in the words of Scripture. "It is written," was the preface to his reply. I often feel that this is the greatest thing we can do for children, to store their minds with these powerful words, which will come to them in their hour of trial, as weapons against the deadly spiritual foe.
Sunday, April 3.
To-day I had the joy of distributing at St. Peter's-in-the-woods the pretty Easter eggs Miss W. had sent for the children. It was a joy to see the usually phlegmatic faces light up at the sight of the lovely things in the familiar form of an egg.
I asked the very pretty young mother who tries to keep the Sunday-school going all the time, though as she says she "has mighty little knolidge herself," to tell me the name of the best scholar. She answered very demurely: "It wouldn't do for me to tell you, Miss Patience; the best plan is for you to listen to the lesson an' then you can tell yourself."
When the lesson was said I found her little boy of 6 was far ahead of the others in saying his lesson and that was why she could not tell me. The next best was a boy of 14 who was, she said, the most punctual of all in attendance, coming a number of miles on foot in all kinds of weather, but he had no one at home to help him with the lesson.
"So, in reason," she said, "he couldn't know it as good as my little boy, fur I teaches him; but Joe does his best, en he aims to learn."
So I decided to give the rabbit about five inches high to him, and said: "Mrs. M. tells me you are so punctual incoming, Joe, that I am going to give you the largest one of the pretty things, which a kind friend away off in New York, has sent as an Easter offering."
To see the heavy, patient looking face suddenly light up and then fairly beam, when the rabbit was put into his hands, was too delightful. I did not look at him too hard, it was such a revelation of fourteen years of limitation and privation unconsciously borne.
I passed on and gave each child a most beautiful egg. They were all filled with little sugar eggs of different delicious flavorings.
To the children of the cities these things are all well known, but to these little pine wood children of nature they were heaven sent mysteries. When I had finished the distribution the big boy Joe came to me and said:—
"Hear, Mrs. Pashuns, my rabbit rattles!"
"Yes," I said, "he is full of little eggs."
"Will I have to break him to get at them? Fur I'd ruther not get um than to break him."
When I showed him how to take the head off, his content was complete.
Got home just before dark, tired and very hungry after the eighteen-mile drive and the two services, but having thoroughly enjoyed the day. It was very pleasant that it was our rector's day with us, so that I drove him out to the church and back instead of taking the drive alone.
Cherokee, April 4.
I am worrying as to how I am going to get seed rice. Some hands want to plant a field of rice, and it seems to me I ought not to be behind them in faith. If they are willing to risk their work, I ought to be willing to risk the seed rice. But the question is where to get it.
The great destruction of rice by the floods last summerhas made seed rice very scarce and very high, and of course no one will be willing to sell it except for cash. However, I have promised to try and get it for the hands who want to plant Vareen.
In the field—sowing.
In the field—sowing.
While we were sitting at breakfast this morning Chloe came to the door and mysteriously beckoned to me. I rose at once and went out knowing something had happened by her tragic expression. When we were out of hearing from the dining room she said:—
"Miss Pashuns, Rab is shot 'eself."
"Good heavens, Chloe! Where is he?"
"Right to de pantry do'."
I flew out and there was Rab moaning piteously with the blood streaming from his left hand. It was no time to ask questions. I called for a basin of hot water and sent to my room for a roll of absorbent cotton and a bottle of turpentine and washed the wound, which was all burned with powder.
The missile, a jagged piece of lead, had gone straight through the hand, making a very ugly, ragged wound. How it got through the muscles, veins, and bones between the second and third finger without touching any of them is a wonder. The bleeding was not excessive. I packed the hole with cotton saturated with turpentine, both top and bottom, getting it as far into the wound as I could.
Poor little Rab behaved very well, did not scream, only the tears rolled down his very black face. After it was bound up securely, my niece fortunately having a roll of bandages with her, I asked him how it happened. He said he was playing with the plantation musket, trying to get out a piece of lead that was in it. He had the palm of his hand over the muzzle when he moved the trigger, with this result.
I did not scold him; what was the use? All my efforts to give him healthy and satisfying amusement and occupation in the boat have been in vain. He will not go with oldTinny, nor to fish at all unless Dab leaves his work to go with him. He is too weak to do any work, and there is nothing that he can be persuaded to do but play with some firearm.
Dab has done wonderfully well, for the house, of which I am generally the sole occupant, is now quite full, and Dab has the dining room work, which he does beautifully. He has confided to Chloe his disappointment about Rab. I have been terribly disappointed myself, but tried not to write about it, indeed I have tried to ignore it altogether. The child has been ill and got somewhat spoiled, as all sick people do who have any kind of good nursing, and then he is so weak and miserable now. Two days ago Dab rushed into the kitchen in great excitement and said: "An' Chloe, Rab is de very debil self! Not de debil son, nor him brudder, but him very self."
Chloe was delighted to sympathize on so congenial a subject and went on:—
"Rab los' all the manners he carry frum here, an' he ain't brought nutting back."
Poor little Rab during his five weeks' illness has got spoiled, and with his physical weakness, his temper gets the better of him more and more, that is all.
April 5.
A dear little cousin arrived this morning to make a long-deferred visit.
I found Rab's hand looking so ugly and swollen when I went to dress it that I determined to send him to Dr. G. in Gregory, for I am sure it needs a doctor's care. The hospital has been closed for lack of funds to carry it on, but I wrote to the doctor, who I know will do his best for the child. I wrote also to Jim asking him to keep him at his house, and I will pay him.
While I was writing the buckboard was being got and I drove Ruth as hard as possible to catch the mail man. Iknew he had left Peaceville by that time and I had to calculate where I could strike him on the road. This I succeeded in doing, and put Rab in his charge, to be taken to the doctor at the hospital where he lives, though it is closed to patients.
It was all very fatiguing and exciting, and my heart was very sore for the poor little piece of black humanity, who has such terrible things to contend against within. I am so glad I was able to send him down at once. It has all broken in somewhat on my enjoyment of my guests, but I hope now the unusual excitements are over.
April 6.
This morning when I came downstairs I was surprised to see the table not prepared for breakfast, as Dab usually has finished all his dining room work by the time I get down. Chloe said she had sent Patty out to knock on the door of his house twice to wake him. She had knocked hard but he would not come out.
I walked out to the house to see if he was ill, opened the door, and he was not there. His valise which he always kept packed was gone, also the fine red blanket, which I bought back for him when he sold it last winter, was gone.
Though I had so often told him when he wanted to go just to tell me, and I would write a paper stating his capabilities and good qualities, so that he could get a good place, he had slipped away in the night! I was quite knocked down by this. The excitement about Rab had taken a good deal out of me, and now I was dismayed.
The house is full, and though Patty is a good little girl and specially eager to wait on table, she knows very little and my whole time during a meal has to be given to seeing that she does not lose her head, and do something very unusual, to say the least, but I now called her and told her she must take charge of the dining room, in addition to her other work.
She showed all her white teeth and expressed delight atthat. I showed her exactly how to lay the breakfast table and what dishes to use, and then went up to my room to compose myself before the family came down.
Gibbie having determined to take a rest, as he very often does, had announced himself sick and Dab had been taking care of the horses as well as the cows. Fortunately Gibbie came out this morning, but when he came for the stable key I found that Dab had carried it off with him, also the poultry house key. They were tied together. I told Gibbie the keys were not in their usual place, and asked if he could manage to get in the stable without breaking the lock.
How to lay the breakfast table.
How to lay the breakfast table.
He answered that was very easy, and proceeded to roll the wagon with the rack up to the stable door, climbed into the loft with ease, and thence down the ladder into the stable, where he unbarred the back door. I was a most interested spectator, for now I understand how the horses are ridden at night, when the door is locked and the key hanging on its hook in the pantry. I did not tell Gibbie that Dab had the keys; I preferred to let him think I had mislaid them.
By the mail at 11 o'clock came a postal addressed to me with the keys attached. I am truly glad Dab had the decency to send them.
April 7.
A long and humble letter from Dab making his apologies as best he could for his very bad conduct and thanking mefor all I had done for him and saying he had no fault to find with me, that he knew if he had come to tell me he would never have gone, intimating that it was with members of his own race he found it hard to get on; said he saw Rab every day and his hand was getting better. He wound up by begging me to give him a recommendation.
Meantime Patty is covering herself with honors and we are getting on very well.
My strawberries are fine, we are picking four quarts every day. Green peas are also bearing well. It is a great thing to have them now while the house is full. We had the first strawberries on April 11.
Rained hard all night, but cleared beautifully this morning; such a blessing to the young corn the rain was. L. wanted to see Casa Bianca, so we drove down there and had a delightful day. We got back in nice time, but Gibbie had gone home, so I had to take out the horses and then go down to the barn-yard to get out feed, as Bonaparte is still working on the house at Peaceville. I miss Dab terribly; he was so quick and always so ready to do everything.
L. went with me to get out the feed. She has lived in a city always, and it must all seem very strange to her. We counted out eighty-four ears of corn into the sack, and then the problem of getting it moved came up. It was still raining, and the horses were eagerly following us, almost walking over us.
L. kept them off with the lantern, while I attempted to drag the corn along. Just then Gibbie strolled up, to my great relief.
April 8.
Drove L. to Gregory to take train. She has kindly offered to take charge of Rab on his journey. I went to ask Dr. G. if Rab's hand was in condition for him to go. He said it was, that it had healed very rapidly, being perfectly healthy, and no longer needed to be dressed daily.
I think it wise to send Rab back to the institution of the worthy Jenkins. I dare not leave him at home with Chloe when I go away, as I must do in ten days to be absent a month, for there is no telling what he might do. As Chloe expresses it, he "discounts her altogether," and this craze he has for firearms makes her afraid to keep him. Under Jenkins's charge he will be well cared for, and at the same time kept out of mischief and made to behave.
I wrote to Jim yesterday to have Rab ready, as I would call for him this afternoon, and as I drove up Hattie came out with Rab's valise, and he followed with his arm in a sling, but looking much better. We drove rapidly to the train, just in time to get the tickets and get L. and her protégé on the train, before it was off.
I asked Rab as we drove down if he had seen Dab. He said he had very often, that he had got a place as butler, where he was getting $5 a week. I asked where it was, and after the train left, I drove to the house and asked to see Dab.
I told him I could not give him the recommendation I had expected to give him, because he had run away and left me as he had done; that I only wanted to see him to tell him to keep the place he had, and not to run from place to place. He seemed much moved, and so was I. I sat in the buckboard, and he stood by the hind wheel, so that I had to turn to look at him.
I gave him a little lecture, telling him that I had carried out my promise to his dying mother as far as I could, having taken much trouble with him, as well as being put to a good deal of expense, because of that promise, and that now he had taken the matter out of my hands by leaving me. All I demanded of him was that he should lead a respectable life and be industrious, honest, and upright, and I would be satisfied. When I turned to look at him the tears were rolling down his cheeks and he thanked me and said he would try.
I started on my lonely drive of fourteen miles about 6 o'clock.
My thoughts were ample company, for I have much to plan out.
All winter I have been looking forward with great pleasure to a visit from a charming English friend who stayed with me once a few years ago. She has made a trip around the world with her maid and physician and was coming here on her way from San Francisco to New York, but after a visit in Mexico, for some reason the physician thought it would be unwise for her to come to this remote plantation, so far from railroad, telegraph, and I suppose he thought from civilization. Mrs. R. wrote to tell me of her disappointment at this and to ask me to make her a visit in New York instead, and begging me to bring Chloe with me. This royally generous invitation I have accepted, and my mind is much occupied as how to arrange for the care of everything in the absence of two such important people as Chloe and myself.
April 9.
My wedding day thirty-six years ago! It does not seem possible that there can be one atom of the intensely pleasure loving, gay slip of a girl left in the philosopher who, battered and bruised by life's battle, looks with calm, serene eyes on the stormy path behind her and with absolute faith forward to the sunset hour. It does not seem as though the ego could possibly be the same. Had some magic mirror been possible, in which that girl could have been shown herself, and her solitary life at the end of forty years, she could not have faced life, she would have prayed passionately for death.
Everything she specially cared for and valued has been taken from her, the things she specially disliked and feared have come upon her, and yet all that is great and noble in life, seems nearer to her now. God seems to have turned all the evil into good, all the mud and mire into gold, and there are around her the beautiful mists and clouds of the sunset, which is not so far off now. So does the Great Father fuse and mould and change in His mighty workshop. Thank God for His alchemy.
April 10.
Spent the day at Casa Bianca sheep trading. I am no trader and should have some one else to do these things. I am always afraid of taking advantage of other people, and as a consequence I am generally a severe loser.
My sheep are fat and have not been shorn and they have been a paying investment, the best I have ever had, but they are being stolen steadily. Last Wednesday we counted twenty-four sheep and fifteen lambs, and to-day I could onlycount twenty-three sheep, and this has been going on a long time.
There is one splendid ram and the lambs are beauties, but Capt. M. only paid me $54.75 for the whole lot. I also sold two cows which I was still milking for $10 apiece. I need the money and have to take what is offered.
April 11.
Sent Gibbie yesterday to take the two cows I sold down to the ferry. The cows are very gentle so that I never thought of any trouble. In the afternoon went out to ask him about it. When I asked what time he reached the ferry he seemed much embarrassed, scratched his head and stood on one foot and then the other and finally said he never got down to the ferry. He stopped to talk to some one and the cows were eating, and the first thing he knew they had got away in the woods, and he had of course pursued them with great activity, but to no purpose, and finally gave it up, and when he got back home found them waiting at the gate.
Joy unspeakable.
Joy unspeakable.
So that has all to be done over, and I have to write and appoint another day for them to be met at the ferry. It is very discouraging. Nothing that I cannot personally attend to gets done. Poor dear old Bonaparte cannot help; he can only denounce and condemn "this new giniration," which does no good at all.
Cherokee, April 12.
Such intense excitement pervades this household that it is difficult to accomplish anything. The last two weekshave been very full. Corn has been planted, also potatoes, and land prepared for cotton. The incubator hatched out a splendid lot of healthy chicks.
Besides all this I have been sewing and dressmaking, for the day after to-morrow I am leaving for a visit to New York, and, wonder of wonders, Chloe is to go too by special invitation. I was afraid at first the excitement would put an end to her, for when I read the letter of invitation she seemed overcome.
At first she said it would be impossible for her to leave the chickens, and who would take care of the house and yard while she was gone? No, it was impossible. But I arranged to get Jim's wife to take charge of the precious "'cubators," also the whole poultry yard, and Chloe is to go. She prides herself on being a travelled person, having been in North Carolina and Georgia, as well as to many different parts of South Carolina and having gone all through the public buildings in the capital of this State, but the idea of going to New York and having to pass through Washington going and coming—it seems too much.
Besides this a complete outfit had to be got for the journey. That of itself was joy unspeakable. My own preparations sink into insignificance beside the magnitude of those of my good Chloe.
April 13.
We drove to Casa Bianca, where we had lunch, and M. and L. left us and drove to Gregory to take the train. It had been an ideal day.
Told Nat he must come to Cherokee to-morrow and drive down a bunch of young cattle, as the pasture there is splendid and I have only two cows, while at Cherokee the pasture is poor and I have twenty-four head of cattle. Nat said he could not possibly bring the young cattle down, that they had never been outside of the enclosure at Cherokee and thatas soon as they got out they would all scatter in the woods and be lost.
He has always been a good hand with cattle and has three cows and calves and a pair of oxen at Casa Bianca, as sleek and fat as possible. I was surprised at his refusal and told him he could get one, or even two, boys to help him and I would pay for it, but still he insisted he could not do it.
At last I said, "If you have any trouble in getting off with them, I will get on my horse and help drive them myself." At once he brightened up and said: "Bery well, miss, I'll cum for dem to-morrer." His refusal and the consequent discussion delayed us greatly and we were very late getting home.
April 14.
Yesterday at nine Nat came for the cattle. I went out and had the good Martha, who is as quiet as a cow can be, roped so as to act as pioneer in conducting the others down. I am milking her and am sorry to send her away, but she was born and reared at Casa Bianca and is always overjoyed to go there, so that nothing will make her leave the road.
Equinox, the beautiful young bull, with John Smith, the two-year-old steer, and Ideala, a beauty three years old, and Pocahontas, Virginia, and Queenie were the party. They are all very gentle and started out of the front gate quietly and I returned to the house, but before I had taken my seat at the sewing machine Nat sent for me.
"Miss," he said, "yu know yu promise yu go too en help me."
"Oh, Nat, that was only in case there was any trouble. I only said that for fun. I knew they would not give any trouble. See how quietly they went out of the gate."
"But, miss, I neber would 'a' cum ef yu neber say so, 'case I know dem cows gwine loss. En, miss, yu done promise."
They know a promise is sacred with me. There was nothing for it but to tell Green to put the saddle on Romola at once, and to prepare for the sixteen-mile ride.
It was very provoking. I had some sewing which was most important, and I have so few days at home and with D. now, but I told Nat to go on with the cattle and I would catch up with them in a few moments.
Green is slow about saddling, so they had gone about half a mile beyond the avenue gate when I came upon Nat alone in the road with Martha, who was going round and round, while Nat used his long lash upon her. I called to him to stop at once, and I asked where the others were. He answered in an I-told-you-so voice:—
"In de 'oods, en Mahta want to git dey too."
He had sent the two boys after the young cattle instead of tying Martha to a tree and going too. I said nothing, but rode out into the woods, and after some little trouble brought them back into the road, where by great vigilance and activity we managed to keep them.
As they were unaccustomed to travel they went very slowly and we had often to stop in shady places and let them rest. When they came to a stream of water crossing the road they would lie down, and there was nothing but wait.
However, all the irritation of giving up my plans at home passed from me and I soon was thoroughly enjoying God's beautiful world—the fresh air, the lovely wild flowers, the birds and bees, all rejoicing in the return of spring with its promise of fruition—it was all a joy.
At last we got the party safely through the gate at Casa Bianca, and when they came to the turn where the avenue runs along the river they felt rewarded for all their trials, such thick, rich grass under their feet, cool shade above them, and that great stream of water beside them.
I had not brought the house key, to my sorrow, for thereI keep a demijohn of artesian water and a box of crackers—the well is so little used that I do not like to drink the water. I turned my face homeward very hungry and very thirsty. As I rode down the avenue I saw a great mulberry tree loaded with ripe fruit. With delight I rode under the branches and satisfied both hunger and thirst and went on my way refreshed.
It had taken so long to get the cattle down there, what with the various stoppages, that it was 5 o'clock when I got home. Found D. had been very anxious about me and was much surprised to see me so little exhausted by the day. Chloe gave us a delicious dinner and I was not too tired to walk over the fields with Bonaparte and give him directions for his guidance during my approaching absence.
Everything is now about ready and D. V. we leave here next Wednesday. I never can keep up my diary while away and will not attempt it.
I have taken a little boy of 8, Elihu's son, to take the place which Rab and Dab have successively occupied for years about the yard. I cannot afford to keep a man-servant at the pineland. This little boy's name is Green, but he is so strong and capable that I call him Goliah. He did not like it at first, not until I told him Goliah was a giant. I asked him if he had no nickname, as I never could remember to call him Green. He answered gravely that he had a nickname, and when I asked what it was he said "Isaiah." A most unusual nickname, but it seemed to open the way for me, so I said:—
"My nickname for you will be Goliah, because you are so strong."
Poor little Goliah was in rags and I have made him some clothes, but my forte is not tailoring and I could not get just the stuff I wanted for him. He speaks of himself as my "'ostler." I speak of him as my "man of all work," for such he is.
Sunday, April 15.
After service I went over to my house in Peaceville, which is just opposite the church, and took out four queer little, old-fashioned trunks full of papers which I have kept out there until now. Two of the trunks are covered with skins with the hair on and studded with brass nails. One has the initials "E. F. B." in brass on the top.
They all contain very old papers, among them grants to my ancestors for 6000 acres of land. These are very much the worse for age and I am going to take them on to Washington to see if I can have them repaired. I scarcely think it will be possible as the grant to my great-great-grandmother, Esther Allston, is falling to pieces, and the seal seems in danger of crumbling. The date is December 21, 1769.
The church in Peaceville.
The church in Peaceville.
I did not know the grants were in these old trunks, which I was gradually looking over. I kept them at Peaceville because the summer days are longer and more suitable for reading old letters and papers. I have been urged by two publishers to write all I can remember from my earliest years. It seems to me absurd for one who has lived such a secluded life to write her reminiscences, but I would find it most interesting work, as it would involve the reading over of old letters. I have every letter written to me since I was 10 years old. If the pressure of daily anxiety for the wherewithal to carry on the work is ever lightened I think I will try to do it just for my own satisfaction, for I do not think it would ever be a profitable venture for publication.
I have always kept a diary of some sort. When I wasmarried and was ambitious to become a fine housekeeper, though I could never hope to rival mybelle-mère, who had a genius for housekeeping besides being a brilliantly clever woman, I kept a "Diary of Dinners," in which I recorded every culinary triumph of mybelle-mère, with whom we lived for two years. Then when thrown upon my own resources, I had this delightful guide to the possibilities of the season as to dinners.
It was not so difficult then to provide because we raised great quantities of poultry, turkeys, and ducks and guinea fowl as well as chickens, for the negroes did not steal things then as they do now; they all raised an abundance of poultry themselves and so the temptation to steal was not so great. Now they raise less and less poultry every year. This comes from their selling all their chickens and eggs and buying canned salmon, sardines, biscuit, and ginger snaps.
April 16.
Left home at 11:30, drove to Woodstock for luncheon with my brother and then on to the station. There the two charming little travelling mates I am to have met me. Son is 4½ and Sister 2½. Their fair hair, lovely brown eyes, and piquant little retroussé noses were a joy to watch. Everything interested them; nothing escaped them. Their father went with us as far as Lanes, where we changed cars and took the sleeper.
I thought this would cause a breakdown and tears when he left them, but there was none. He had provided them with a liberal supply of bananas and candy, which rather alarmed me, but occupied their full attention, and with the wonders of the transforming of the seats into accommodations for the night there was no space for homesickness or sadness. When I proposed bed they were eagerly acquiescent, and Son was most efficient in producing all that was necessary from the tightly packed valise.
The greatest problem was to get off Sister's little dress. The dear mother wishing to save me trouble had made the little travelling frock of a pattern which called for no buttons; it was simply slipped over the head, but it was so close a fit that it seemed to me if I pulled it rashly off, Sister's dear little tip tilted nose would go with it. Son at last said: "Now, Sister, don't cry; I just have to give it a jerk over your nose; it will hurt some, but not too much."
So Sister braced herself to stand the jerk and off it came, leaving her little pansy face unhurt but very rosy. I tucked them into the lower berth, opposite mine, and after a few suppressed ripples of laughter have not heard a sound from them.
April 17.
We reached Washington on time. The dear little children slept like tops all night. I woke them at 7. Son again proved himself a most accomplished nurse-maid, and Sister emerged from the train looking very dainty and fresh. Son insisted on struggling to carry their heavy valise, but was finally persuaded to let the porter take it with mine out to the gate, where my dear sister was waiting, and the children uttered a cry of delight as they recognized their beautiful aunt with her husband, their unknown uncle, who had come over from Philadelphia to meet them. We parted company here, and I could truthfully say they had not given me the smallest trouble, but on the contrary, had been a genuine pleasure.
The Camps, June 11.
I left Carrollton on the 4p.m.train. En route anxiety came to me as to whether I had given my letter, telling when I would reach Gregory, time enough to precede me. As I neared my destination I felt more and more sure that I had not. If I had mailed it myself it might have arrived, but I gave it to the children who were playing in the garden andasked them to drop it in the box. A child's hand is almost as dangerous a place for a letter as a man's pocket, and I had an inward conviction there would be no one to meet me at the train.
I asked the negro porter to look out and see if the phaeton was there to meet me when we arrived at 10p.m.He came back and told me he did not see it. Then I asked him to engage a hack to take me out the three miles to this pineland, where I was to spend the night and make a little visit to C. By the time he had made sure there was no one to meet me and reported this to me, every vehicle had gone except a huge omnibus with a large pair of mules driven by a small darky who looked about 10. He was eager to undertake to get me out to the Camps for a small sum.
"Do you know the way?" I asked.
"Yes'um. Oh, yes'um; know um well."
So I climbed into my chariot, where a feeble lantern hung. A still smaller urchin slammed the door, and I started. I must say I felt I was doing a rash thing, for I was not at all familiar with the road myself, and by this time it was 11 o'clock. As long as we were within the radius of the electric lights of the town I didn't feel so anxious, but when we got into the blackness of darkness I began to think how foolish I was not to have gone to a hotel for the night.
Every now and then my Jehu would climb up to the front window, where I stood peering out into the night, and ask, "You t'ink we git dey yit?" I could faintly make out houses at intervals along the way on each side and was sure we still had a long way to go. At last when we got into a denser growth of pines and I could see nothing I called to him: "Stop, and I will walk the rest of the way if you will bring the lantern!"
Greatly relieved, I think, for he began to fear he was to drive all night, he got down, charged the other mite not tolet the mules stir, a command which seemed to me superfluous, for they were only too glad to stop, and with much difficulty undid the wire which held the lantern in place, and we started. I knew that if we had come to the place to turn in to C.'s house there was a narrow bridge with a sharp turn which it would be difficult for the very large vehicle and mules to make safely. After a little wandering around, most of the houses being in darkness, I saw a light in a house, and as we approached the fence, the dogs gave tongue and I knew I was getting to the right place. The dogs are fierce, so I stood and called for some one to come, rejoicing that this family were not as early in their habits as their neighbors.
My little guide now resumed his confident air and said: "I t'ink, ma'am, you ought to pay me mo'n I charge you fust time."
"Oh, boy," I said, "for this voyage of discovery I will pay you double what you charged; here it is. Now, tell me, were you ever here before?"
"Not to dis place, ma'am, but onst las' year I bin about halfway here, but I didn't bin a dribe, I bin on me foot."
I felt that the Providence which is said specially to protect fools and children had been with us. I felt anxious as to how the house on wheels was to be turned in the narrow road with a deep ditch on each side, and proceeded to offer some suggestions, but this individual of resources stopped me by saying, "Needn't fret, ma'am. I onderstand dribe," and I was free to enjoy the pleasant welcome that awaited me within. C. had received no letter from me and had no idea I was coming.
Peaceville, June 14.
Got back from my delightful holiday last evening. I stopped on my drive from the Camps at Cherokee to see how everything was. Found my good old Bonaparte in deep distress; his faithful and devoted wife died two weeks ago.
They had lived together happily fifty-three years and he is crushed. He cried like a child on seeing me. I gave him my earnest sympathy. I'm so sorry her illness and death should have come while I was away. In broken words he told me what a surprise it was to him; he never thought "Liz could die en lef him." When a working-man loses a good wife he is indeed bereft; his companion, helpmeet, cook, washer, seamstress, mender, all gone at one fell swoop, and he is left forlorn.
I shall myself miss Lizette very much. There were certain things she always did in the sausage making and Christmas preparations. I always meant to get her to tell me all she remembered and to write it down. She belonged to a family much considered by my father and by his parents before him. They were distinguished for loyalty, fidelity, and honesty, and took great pride in their distinction as a family.
Lizette's mother, Maum Maria, was our nurse and her father, old Daddy Moses, could be trusted with anything. Put gold, silver, provisions, anything in his charge and it was safe. His sense of responsibility was sacred—alas, alas, to find such a one now! Some of his descendants are very smart, but none has just his character.
One of his sons, William Baron, who had been our third house servant, I mean in rank, there being two men above him, made quite a name for himself as a caterer and steward of the club in Charleston after the war, and one of his great-grandsons Sam Grice (Lizette and Bonaparte's grandson) is a minister of the Episcopal Church. He was educated in a church school here and when there was a call for a boy of high character to be taken and to be educated by the church he was chosen and proved most satisfactory in every way, and he passed a remarkably fine examination in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew before his ordination.
He used to visit his grandparents every year, but since hehas been ordained priest he has not been here, as he has married and has work. He is the pride and joy of his grand-parents' heart, but there is always a little drawback in the fact that they are uncompromising Methodists and they feel he has deserted their church.
For the present Bonaparte's usefulness is quite gone, even his capacity to do anything with his hands, and he cannot stay in his house, has to go over to stay at his son's, a mile away. He seemed to feel that now I had come home things would be easier.
Chloe came home two weeks ahead of me so as to accomplish the move from the plantation to the pineland, and I found everything comfortably arranged for me, a nice dinner and no bad news.
My delightful new possession, a most high-bred and distinguished Scottish terrier, MacDuff, which I sent home with her, met me with enthusiasm. He was a present from my charming friend and hostess and is going to be a great pleasure to me. It is impossible to describe him, he reminds one of so many different wild beasts, all the time being strangely human.
After dinner Chloe brought out a beautiful fruit-cake which she had made for my birthday. She seemed afraid I might accuse her of extravagance and assured me she had only used up the odds and ends of fruit which were left in the storeroom and the fresh butter and fresh eggs which I was not at home to eat. I was delighted and praised her very much for her cleverness and thought; seeing me looking in the silver drawer for the cake knife, she added hastily:-
"Mind, Miss Pashuns, I ain't tell yu fu' cut um till yu hab kump'ny."
So I said, "That is very wise, Chloe; put it away until we have company," and she removed it with great agility, but it was a disappointment, for I have got accustomed to havinga great many nice things all the time recently. I know it is going to be hard to force myself back to the great economy I have felt necessary and practised for the past year.
June 16.
Rose at 5:20 o'clock and had breakfast early. That is one of the unexpected results of Chloe's travel; she is much earlier in the morning, which is a great comfort; that is the only cool time, and I am so anxious for Jim to get off to his work at 6:30 o'clock every day; it is much better for man and beast to start the ploughing very early, and then knock off for the hottest hours and plough again in the afternoon.
The season has been hard on all crops; a severe drought after the late frost, so that it was hard for seeds to come up. I have nice snap beans and corn from the garden and soon will have tomatoes. The cotton and corn in the field look poorly, the watermelons need work, but I hope they will be abundant.
Chloe's visit to New York is a subject of immense and unending interest to every one. She spends her time narrating to white and black all she has seen. She brought most carefully selected little presents for every one. How she managed I do not know.