The rice-fields looked like a great lake.
The rice-fields looked like a great lake.
Cherokee, September 23.
I did not go to Peaceville to church this morning, C. having written me that the dean would hold service at St. Peter's-in-the-Woods at four, that he would drive him there and that they would come back with me and spend the night. So I prepared a nice dinner of wild duck and broiled chicken for them and took my own frugal little lunch at 2 o'clock and drove out to the church.
The day was very hot but beautiful. Jim did not go to town last evening, but stayed to drive me out in wagon with Ruth and Marietta. I always enjoy driving behind this pair of mother and daughter. Marietta dances along gayly and Ruth tries her very best not to let her daughter outdo her.
The little church was crowded with the simple, pathetic congregation. Louise Moore looked sweet in her black dress, her face so sad, for it is just two months since she lost her beautiful seven-year-old boy. She held up with pride her new baby, which she tightly clasped in her arms. So it is with them always: "Le roi est mort; vive le roi." But I know this new baby can never be as clever and good a child as the little Charley was.
The dean read the gospel for the day, the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity, beginning "No man can serve two masters." He shut the book and spoke quietly and beautifully on what makes a Christian. Is it baptism? No. Going to church? No. And so on, and then he explained what it was; to follow in the footsteps left by the Saviour; to be kind, gentle, thoughtful to others, helpful in word and deed, unselfish, self-denying, and to be guided by counsel from above, asked for daily, hourly, in what we call prayer. Then he explained how one can pray in the midst of work and turmoil; the heart needs no ceremony to ask the help of the Heavenly Father. There are no doorkeepers or guards at the gates. There the humblest kind of prayer, the silent aspiration, "Lord, be merciful to me a sinner," goes straight, unimpeded, to the throne of grace. Then he dwelt on God's special care for each of His children and His knowledge of their weaknesses and temptations and needs.
It was a joy to me to see Solomon's great round eyes fixed eagerly on the speaker, looking for something which his simple mind could grasp and hold. He was asking bread, and I was so thankful that he was not getting a stone. Col. Ben fixed his wistful eyes with their long lashes, the only spark of beauty about his very freckled face, on the preacher and never seemed even to wink. A very stout man in his shirt sleeves whom I did not recognize as one of the regular congregation (the men are all so thin and tall), looked asthough he was forced to listen and understand against his will.
C. and the dean were not able to come home with me to spend the night, to my great regret. They found at the last moment that it would be necessary to return to Gregory this evening.
Monday.
I sat and sewed, not feeling up to much exertion. I finished the gray muslin frock and it is sweet. Then I darned stockings. If anything can make you more conceited than darning stockings I don't know what it is unless it be early rising. I think if by great and sustained effort I ever became an early riser I would become insufferable. All my life that has been my greatest ambition, but I never succeed in rising early for more than a few weeks at a time under pressure.
September 25.
Danton was to be married this evening and specially invited Chloe, and I saw she wanted to go, so I told her she must go, that it was only due Danton, as a refused suitor for her hand, that she should attend the wedding. She said she did think it would be a "good polish" on her part to be present, but that she could not bear to leave me alone from early in the afternoon until late at night. She said:—
"Dem say de weddin' gwine be at fo', but nigga fo' mean buckra seven! Dem neber will reddy by fo'."
However, I insisted and persisted until she went. I kept Patty Ann as long as I could by going to the barn-yard to measure the peas and telling her she must take charge of the house and yard until I got back. There were about twenty hands. Some wanted to pick for one-third of the peas, some for money. It is very hard to divide peas evenly. I find the easiest way is to weigh the peas and then divide the weight. It really takes less time than any other way,for it is accurate and I can get through weighing and dividing up 1500 pounds of peas among twenty hands in no time.
When I got back from the barn I had to let Patty Ann go. Then I went to see after Pocahontas, my beautiful young cow, who is ill. I gave her a dose of aconite to-day and had Jim rub her with liniment. She is strangely affected; her fore legs seem almost paralyzed and cross each other when she walks, or rather steps, for she is afraid to walk more than a dozen steps at a time; then down she goes.
Her countenance is bright, however, which makes me hopeful. It would be a dreadful blow to lose her. R. L. A., who knows about cows, told me not to take less than $65 for her in the spring before she had her first calf. The calf is so fine I have named her Beauty.
I gave Pocahontas a large bundle of fresh cut grass and a bucket of water, for Jim has gone to the wedding too. To my delight when I put the grass down a little beyond her reach, giving her only one handful to taste, she got up with great difficulty, resting some time on her knees, swaying so that I thought she must keel over, but at last she got to her feet and stood trembling for a little before she could make the one step necessary to reach the grass. It seems to me she has had a severe blow on her left shoulder and the left leg is almost paralyzed. She puts all her weight on the right.
When I had got through my ministrations to her and came out of the stable and started toward the house I was scared almost out of my wits by a tall man standing at the gate. It took all my courage to force myself forward instead of retreating rapidly to the shelter of Pocahontas's stable. However, I went forward with a bold air to find a variation of Don Quixote's windmill. I had been picking up walnuts as my first amusement and got so warm that I took off my white flannel coat and hung it on a tall post near the gate as I went out to see after the cow, and had entirely forgotten it.
I laughed at myself, but feebly, for I have not had such a fright for a long time. There is no human being within three-quarters of a mile of me, and I have had trouble with a very bad man whose hog was in my corn and peas, for a week before we found it out. I had Jim catch it and shut it up and send word to the man that he must pay me $2 before he could get it. That was not nearly the value of what he had destroyed, but I thought it was all I could ask. He sent word he would not pay it, that I could keep the hog and send him a dollar. It is a complete razor back and I don't want it, but Jim seemed to think he would like it and told me he would pay the dollar and take the hog.
I said, "Then where is my pay for the damage to the crop?" It seemed very hard for him to see the justice of this.
In the meantime I am feeding the creature on my precious corn and the owner is very angry.
I put up the walnuts I had picked, four dozen. The squirrels steal them as well as people, so they have to be put in a close place to keep them.
When I went out first the sunset was wonderful. Exquisite rose-colored clouds, layers upon layers of them, filled the heavens and the pure, cold crescent moon emerged from their billowy depths with its bow of hope. I stood and watched with much delight until, oh, sadness! the rose-colored clouds turned to ashes of roses and I felt with a pang that night was near.
When I came into the house at last it was quite dark and I had forgotten to put the matches on the table near the door, so I had rather an eventful progress, falling over chairs and stools to find them. I do not like the dark and cannot walk straight in it. At last, however, I got the matches and lighted the lamp and took my tea, which had been made early but kept hot under a cosey.
After getting through to my surprise I found myself nervous.I do hope my nerve is not going to fail me. It is the first time I have been quite alone in the house and yard without MacDuff, my stanch little watch-dog, and it makes a great difference. He used to sit right by me and follow my every motion, and when he barked it meant something. Don barks because he is chained and Prince barks because he is afraid of the young moonlight, it is so mysterious. Their continual barking worries me, for Chloe left both chicken coops unlocked and I cannot discriminate between the bark that means something and the other.
I tried to read but did not succeed, so I took to the piano and worked hard at Chopin's études. The "Revolutionary" étude requires plenty of work and effort and concentration. Now it is 10 o'clock and I had to stop for very weariness and am writing.
After going out into the yard several times to see if Prince was barking at any reality, I brought him into the pantry, and in order to compose his nerves I left the "Revolutionary" étude, which is so tempestuous, and played the next, which is almost a lullaby, so soft and soothing is it, and to my relief it had its effect, and Prince went to sleep.
Just now I heard Don give a real bark and went out to find the party had returned, Chloe in high glee. I had sent by her to Danton as a wedding present, a white waistcoat. The buttons had been taken out when it was washed and had not been put back, and when I thought of the waistcoat as a present, Chloe was all ready and I could not put the buttons in, so I wrapped them up and put them in the pocket, wrapped the waistcoat in a paper, with my good wishes on the paper, and gave it to Chloe.
She told me that they met the bridegroom on his way to the wedding with his four attendants and she delivered the package. Danton opened it, expressed great delight, took off his coat and put on the waistcoat, and the groomsmenall assisted in putting in the buttons with the string which tied the parcel, and the bridegroom was resplendent and the four groomsmen were loud in applause. He folded the paper up and put it carefully in his pocket and said, "I gwine to keep Miss Pashuns's good will she write on dis paper."
Chloe says the wine flowed freely and the large company all had some, and the six cakes were not all consumed. She is telling me every detail of the gayety. Jim had the duty of handing round the wine, which Chloe privately told me was very sour. But it was a "high class" affair, not so much as a "cuss word," all pleasant and polite.
I am writing while she narrates, which will account for incoherence. She stands with her hand on the knob of the door and every now and then my hopes rise as she opens the door, but at once some new detail comes to her mind and the door closes, the lantern is put down, and the wonderful witticisms recommence.
The bride wore yellow satin with two skirts, a long veil put on with a wreath of white flowers and looked "truly han'som, en I neber bin to a freer weddin', Miss Pashuns, dan dis. Of coa's de cake was to dem tas'e, not to yo'ne, but dem had a plenty o' dem, sum lef'."
At last Chloe has said good night. I'm going to bed to dream of the wedding.
September 26.
Nice letters by mail to-day, but I am so down and miserable in spirits, that I do not know what will be the result. I feel ill just from despair. There seems no outlook anywhere—no hope. I feel ashamed of myself, for there are so many so much worse off. God forgive me.
September 28.
To-day's mail brought me a most agitating letter from dear C. She wrote from the hospital, where she was to be operated upon for appendicitis that day. She begged me if possible to go at once and take charge of her household and three little boys until her return. It seems almost impossible to leave just now—but I have determined to drop everything and go. I feel very anxious, for her letter took a long time to reach me.
Unita, September 30.
Left Peaceville yesterday at 3p.m.and reached this flourishing town at 12 to-day. The boys are splendid fellows, aged eight, seven, and four years, full of life and fun and chatter; it is a great contrast to the silent home I left.
On the journey up I had two hours in Columbia, which I spent with B. I was very pleased to find that W., her ten-year-old son, had recovered from the effects of the great shock he had when I was there in June.
All the children were at a large picnic on the outskirts of the city in a very pretty spot with a stream running through which opened out into a small lake in one spot. There W. was playing with a comrade of his own age, to whom he was devoted. They were wading in what seemed a sheet of shallow water and were throwing up a lemon as a ball, each trying to catch it.
Suddenly as the friend leaped to catch the ball he sank from sight in unsuspected deep water. W. saw him rise and sprang after in an involuntary impulse to save him. Hetoo disappeared. Both rose, then sank again, W.'s second sinking being the friend's third, his arms being clasped around W.'s waist.
About 300 yards away a young matron who had brought her four children to the picnic, one being quite a baby still, heard the cry and started toward the pool at a run. She reached the water as W. rose for the third time. Though panting from the run she sprang in where she saw him sink, and after what seemed to the onlookers an age she appeared holding W. by the collar, and slowly and painfully dragged him to the shallow water. A lady seeing she was nearly spent, waded in waist deep and helped her bring him to the shore, and said:—
"Come out, you are exhausted."
"No, no!" Mrs. M. answered. "There is another, I must go back for him," and she turned again to the deep water.
But every one saw that she could not possibly go down again, and she was pulled gently to the shore and placed in an automobile and taken home.
It was a most heroic action for that frail young woman, exhausted from the run, to plunge in with clothes and shoes on. I asked B. to take me to call on her and that visit will always remain in my memory as a beautiful picture. She was sitting on the vine-covered porch at her sewing-machine, while the children played around. She did not wish to speak of the tragedy and talked of lighter things.
She told us she had grown up on a plantation near Beaufort, and she had only consented to come to the city on condition that her home should be on the outskirts, where she could have large grounds with flower and vegetable garden and keep a cow, a small farm in fact, and her present home gave her all the country occupations and pleasures, while her children could reach the city schools easily. I had gonefor the purpose of expressing my gratitude and admiration for her presence of mind and heroism, so before we left I spoke of the tragedy. Her lovely face went white at once, and she said:—
"Oh, but the other boy! If only I could have got him too! I think of that other mother always."
My very heart was stirred by the heroism of the whole thing, and the mercy of the rescue of my dear great-nephew and the terrible tragedy of his companion's death. Altogether my admiration and reverence was excited for all the actors in the drama, Mrs. M., and my great-nephew, who had tried to save his comrade, but Mrs. M. above all;—just a flash of tragedy, heroism, and nobility out of the clear sky, when often life looks so commonplace.
October 4.
It is a wonder to me how I can cast away all thought of things at home so completely, specially the pea-vine hay, which had become a kind of fetish with me, but truth to say, my time and thoughts are so fully occupied that I have no chance to dwell on anything outside of these four walls. It is time for the incubator to hatch and I find myself in spite of active occupations wondering as to how Chloe and Patty are getting on. Neither of them seemed able to make out the thermometer, so that my kind friend Mrs. S. had promised to go in once a day and look at it. It will be a wonder if any chickens hatch under the circumstances.
This is a lovely place, a charmingly comfortable house and so surrounded by trees that I can forget I am in a city and only feel the comfort of having the butcher and baker and every one else you want, call at your door. I certainly can appreciate that part of city life.
"Seven" and "Eight" go to school and the excitement of getting them off in the morning is intense. They have along walk, entirely across the town, and there are many snares and pitfalls in the shape of circus pictures on the way, so that it is necessary to give them ample time to get there before the bell rings.
"Four" stays at home and is my constant companion. If he were not a fascinating child it would be very trying, but besides being strong, healthy, and handsome he is perfectly obedient and very original. I was sitting on the porch sewing and he was playing with my trunk strap, greatly to the injury of the strap, twisting it around a tree. I told him to stop, which he did at once, and with the greatest agility, to use his own word, he "skinned" up the tree. He went up until he was on a level with the second story windows and then began to discourse.
"Aunt Patience, did you see how quick I minded you, an' stopped doing what you tol' me not to do?"
"Yes," I answered, "and I was greatly pleased."
"Well," he went on, "I did that because if you do what grown-up people tell you not to do, God don't like it, an' he'll surely make you stump your toe."
I could not help laughing, it was so funny, his little bare feet are so battered and bruised by stones and roots; but he got very angry, and let go his hold on the limb on which he sat, to gesticulate fiercely as he went on.
"That ain't nothin' to laugh at, its puffectly true! An' if you're a grown man an' won't mind Him an' do wrong, He might make you break your neck, but if you're a boy, he'll only jes' make you stump your toe."
I was so afraid that in the earnestness of his gesticulations he would fall from the high limb that I became solemn at once and said how pleased I was that he was so wise and realized that evil doing always brought its own punishment. At the same time I begged him to hold on, as it was necessary to take proper precautions not to get hurt as well asto do what was right. As "Seven" fell from that same limb and split his tongue two days before I arrived, I was truly thankful when the little preacher got down safe and sound.
The last time the boys stayed with me at Cherokee Chloe nicknamed them the doctor, the lawyer, and the preacher, and the names seem to suit. I was walking with "Eight," the doctor, yesterday afternoon and as we flew along, for I walk fast, he threw his arms out and exclaimed:—
"Oh, I just wish I had all the money in the world."
I was quite shocked. "Oh, my dear boy, what makes you wish for money? You have everything you want."
He answered: "Didn't you see that poor old daddy, all ragged and dirty? He has an awful foot, I saw it, and I gave him a dime the other day, but if I had all the money, I'd load up my pockets with big bills and as I went along the streets and I saw him, I'd just slip a fifty-dollar bill out of my pocket and into his hand and say, 'Shut your hand quick, old uncle, here's fifty dollars; go get your leg cured and buy all you want.' And then I'd run on quick before he knew who it was. And you see that poor, thin, pale-faced little girl coming out of the factory? I'd do the same to her, and walking just as fast as we are now I'd just give everybody that looked needing it, a good big bill! Now wouldn't that be jolly? And wouldn't I be happy!"
I told him if he ever wanted to do that he would have to work hard at his arithmetic, over which he has so much trouble, for there was no chance of ever making headway in the world without conquering that—which seemed to put arithmetic in a new light to him.
But I really was very pleased to see in the boy that love of humanity which made him wish to relieve suffering, though only in imagination, instead of dreaming of autos and other grandeurs for himself. "Il chasse de race." But we certainlyunderstand spending money better than we do making it, which is a pity and made me point out to him that money had to be made before it could be given away, and that money was made by arithmetic, so to speak, rather than by dreaming.
October 20.
I have got on beautifully with the boys and am so happy to know them well. I have had many trials of strength with them, but I never give in. The "doctor" came in from school the other day and threw his arms around me and said:—
"You are just the sweetest aunt in the world!"
I said, "What does this mean?" laughingly, for we had had a mighty tussle that morning over his arithmetic.
He went on as if not hearing me: "I just get praised in school all the time, since you have been here."
I thought it was the most magnanimous thing, for I had been very severe on him in the battle over the arithmetic. I really think the mental arithmetic is quite too hard for a boy of eight, it requires such an effort and so much concentration; but as the lesson is given him, he must put his mind on it and learn it.
The analysis is more puzzling than the questions themselves, and he fights it, and I don't wonder, but as the lesson is given it is his duty to learn it, and I make him shut his eyes and concentrate his mind; and I thought it was wonderful that having felt the good result in praise he should wish to pass it on to me. Oh, the joy of having first class material to work upon!
Cherokee, November 10.
A perfectly exquisite day. I reached Gregory last night and spent the night by invitation at Woodstock. I had written for Gibbie to meet me there at noon, and he arrived punctually. I rested the horses about half an hour and then started back. The horses looked jaded and I let them walk,as it was intense enjoyment to feel the soft balmy air on my cheeks and to study the variety of lovely wild flowers which autumn brings, as we went through the pine woods, following the rough and winding short cut to the ferry.
I asked Gibbie questions, to which he gave the most prolonged and elaborate answers. I am sure he had composed and arranged them all as he drove down. He told me every item of home news; everything rose color; potatoes dug and very fine, "about t'ree hundred bushil." "Great crop of hay," he having saved it all. More peas than I "could 'stroy." He spoke of Bonaparte altogether as "the Cap'en," which showed me they were on good terms, a most unusual thing. All the cows in fine condition, he reported, but when I asked about Heart, the Guernsey heifer I was so anxious to raise, he said a sad accident happened and she was dead.
After we crossed the ferry the horses looked so downhearted that I asked if Ruth had had any holiday. No, he said, Ruth had been driven every day; but Romola had done nothing since I left home.
"What," I said, "not been in harness since September 20?"
"No, ma'am, just been out in de fiel' de eat grass."
"Mercy on us," I cried, "and you brought her on this twenty-six mile drive to-day?"
"Needn't to fret, ma'am, Uncle Bonapa'te feed um well, he give um twenty-eight year o' co'n jes' fo' we sta'at dis mo'ning."
I began at once to feel anxious about Romola and drove slower and slower. She would turn and bite at her side from time to time and travelled with her head down. Finally when we were five miles from home she threw herself violently down. Romola is such a good creature; she managed not to break a strap of the harness, nor the pole, only she nearly toppled Ruth over, but by falling against her she saved the pole.
I sprang out and had the harness taken off quickly and got her up and led her out of the road into a grassy place in the woods just in time, for she threw herself down again, rolling over and over and groaning and tossing herself about—a genuine case of colic.
First I told Gibbie to run home and bring Nana as quickly as he could. Then I considered that it must take at least two hours, even if he ran, which I knew he would not do, and to be left on the highway alone, the buckboard loaded with my possessions, with a sick horse, would be a trying ordeal for me and would really be tempting Providence in the way of tramps, so I said:—
"No, don't go yet a while; perhaps some one will come whom I can send."
In about half an hour a neighbor passed and offered to help me, so I asked him if when he passed Cherokee he would drive in, and tell Bonaparte to bring Nana in the old buckboard and to tell Chloe to send by him the horse physic from behind the dogs on the mantelpiece in the dining-room. He seemed very glad to do it and I felt relieved, knowing I would not have to spend the night on the road. I always keep a bottle of aconite behind a very beautiful pair of bronze hounds by Isidore Bonheur and Chloe knows just where to find it, for I have kept it there for years.
Romola continued in great distress. I had a bottle of almond oil with extract of violet in my valise which I fortunately thought of. I got it out and told Gibbie to rub her, but finding that he didn't seem to know how to rub, I just took it myself and rubbed her well. I had to be quick in getting out of the way when she flopped over or I would have got mashed; but I stood behind her and, leaning over, put my whole weight on my hands.
As the sun was dropping below the horizon in the west she got up and shook herself. I led her about a little and feltsure the attack was over, so I told Gibbie to harness and put her in. He had been kept busy by Ruth, who as feeding time approached was eager to break away and get to her stable. We moved off slowly, and in half a mile we met Bonaparte with Nana and the other buckboard and he took the trunk. I gave Romola a dose of aconite and she plucked up a little spirit; but she did not pull, she simply walked beside Ruth, who took the whole load.
It was after dark when we reached the house. I gave her three quarts of hot water with soda in it and another spoonful of aconite. I was truly thankful when I finally dragged my weary limbs up the front steps and found a bright fire, nice supper, Chloe, Don, and home.
Sunday, November 11.
My blessed mother's birthday. I am too stiff and ill to attempt to go down with flowers to her resting-place as I usually do; a great disappointment. Bonaparte asked for a private interview, so I went to one end of the piazza, though there was no one within hearing. He told me after a long and mysterious preamble that he was engaged to be married.
I was distressed when I heard he had selected a comparatively young woman from Gregory. When I expressed my anxiety, saying a woman from the country would suit him better, he said that when I saw Jane I would have no objection to make, as she bore a fine character with white as well as black. Of course I can do nothing now but give him my good wishes.
Two or three months ago when I saw his restless, miserable frame of mind, I knew he was thinking of replacing his good, faithful wife and I tried to help him. After a careful survey of the matrimonial field, I concluded that good little Jinny would be the best person for him. She is an industrious, smart woman, who had been a faithful wife and mother and is now a widow. One day I said to him that whenever thetime came that he felt he needed a companion I thought Jinny Robinson would make him an excellent helpmate. To my surprise he answered quickly, "Jinny too old for me, Miss Pashuns."
She is twenty years younger than he is. My mother was always appealed to for advice and suggestion by those left desolate, and I never knew an instance when her selection was rejected or the match turned out badly, so I was quite unprepared for this rebuff.
Jinny lives on her own farm and all her children are married, so that she would have suited him well.
Nat came up from Casa Bianca to tell me my fine yearling steer Knox was dead. He was perfectly well apparently when Jim went down there last week. It always is a trial to talk to a negro in such cases. I asked of course what ailed the steer. Nat scratched his head violently and answered:—
"Miss, 'e time cum, I t'ink. W'en we time cum we 'bleeged to go. De black steer time cum en I cudn't keep um; en beside dat 'e had de hollow tail."
Of course I retreated from the effort to find out anything, but I told him he must bring the rest of the cattle up here. The pasture being very fine down there, I leave the cows there in summer, but as soon as the corn-fields are open here I bring them back where I can look after them during the winter.
Cherokee, November 12.
Great activity prevails in this household; I am moved to brush up my dear old home a little, so I have bought some kalsomine, and every minute which can be spared from getting in the hay Jim is kalsomining. He has finished the breakfast room, which was a disgrace, and then he finished the upstairs hall, and is now engaged on the lower hall.
The dear departed peacock, whose mate was eaten up by a fox while sitting on a nest of beautiful eggs, lived threeyears in a state of single misery, during which time he broke every pane of glass in the windows he could reach. It was so pathetic that I could not give way to wrath and have him beaten away. He was looking for that lovely mate, with her graceful long neck and dainty small head, and seemed to think she was imprisoned in the house, for he roamed round and round it, first on one shed and then on another, and when, peering in through the window glass, he caught sight of his own iridescent form, he would plunge forward in an ecstasy of joy, break the glass, cut his poor, proud head and hastily fly away, only to begin the search again as soon as his wounds were healed. In this way the windows were broken one by one, and the dirt daubers (a very busy flying thing that looks exactly like a wasp, but does not sting) came in and made their wonderful clay houses in the halls, so that it looked like some old, deserted, haunted place.
It was impossible to get all the glass put back. The hall window has a pointed arched top like a church window, and that shape of glass I could not get, so I just felt helpless and hopeless while the little workers in clay triumphed over me. When, however, the hall window was covered with fine bronze wire on the outside from top to bottom these little wonders of industry and perseverance were foiled.
It was funny to watch them when they first reached the window loaded down with red clay and flew up against the wire. They could not believe that that pygmy man whom they had got the better of for years had really foiled them at last. For days and weeks they continued the attack and many, many perished in their determined efforts to squeeze through openings too small for them.
But to return to the peacock and his search for his lost love. He reminded me of that tragic scene in Gluck's "Orpheus and Eurydice" when he dares to enter the vast terrible kingdom of the dead in his search for his beloved—theeager, pathetic gaze into the lifeless face of each veiled form, the joy of imagined recognition, only to fade into disappointment and horror as returning life shows the mistaken identity. The peacock grew thinner and thinner. Occasionally he would go into the busy poultry yard and spread out his beautiful fan and salaam to the white Leghorn hens and win their cackling admiration, but those exhibitions became rarer each year, and finally he disappeared. I am quite sure he sought the solitude of the forest to die.
I miss him all the time in spite of his mischievous activity, for he was a part of the place. I tried very hard to get a mate for him, but never found one. In the years gone by peafowl were very common through this country. We used to call it our episcopal dish, for every year when the Bishop of the diocese stayed with us on his visit to the parish, mamma had a roast peacock as part of the dinner. The breast is very large, like that of a partridge, and of a very delicate game flavor.
Since the clay workers can be kept out it seems worth while to destroy all traces of them and have the wall white and fair once more. As the work progresses and the air of desolation is subdued my spirits rise, and I wonder how I have stood it so long. It is well there is something to cheer my spirits, for the financial outlook is appalling.
The storm-tossed crop is hopeless, the corn all damaged; in the little that there is, not a perfect ear.
November 14.
Great rejoicing! To-day's mail brought a letter from J. L. H. saying she would be here Monday. Day spent in trying to get the house in winter trim, for it is very cold. Got down most of the carpets and rugs, but could not get the curtains up. They are all sewed up in homespun bags in the spring with camphor or moth balls, and it really is a day's work to get them all out and beaten and aired.
November 15.
A tremendous day. Took my dearest J. down to Gregory and then to Woodstock, where it was so pleasant that I lingered too long. I had had a great deal of business to see about in Gregory, so that we were late getting in to Woodstock. I had fortunately bought a lantern and I needed it very soon after leaving Woodstock, the road being very winding and intricate for the first three miles.
At the ferry the man called to me to drive in quickly, as there was a tug coming down the river bringing him a new flat, and he must get me over as quickly as possible to return and change flats. Goliah, who had gone behind on the buckboard with me, was much excited and added all his strength to the two men in pulling the flat over. When we got about halfway over Moses, the ferryman, saw that the tug was coming down rapidly upon the wire. He called to the captain, a negro, to stop. This did no good at all. On, on, came the snorting tug like a relentless fate.
It was a dreadful situation, for I feared Ruth would turn her head, and then I knew she would jump out of the flat. Fortunately I had driven her hard and she was thankful to be quiet. While I was wondering that Ruth was so quiet something happened, I did not know what.
The four men and Goliah, who were pulling, were thrown to the floor of the flat, Ruth was nearly thrown flat, and the steel rope with which the flat was pulled lashed round the buckboard's wheels, fortunately not reaching the mare. I was thrown out on the wheel and before I had righted myself Goliah picked himself up and flew to Ruth's head, which I thought a wonderful evidence of fidelity to a responsibility, and it was lucky that he did so, for as soon as she realized that we were out of our course and not making for shore, Ruth became very restless and impatient.
Moses yelled to the man nearest the broken end of the ropeto seize it, which he did, and that was a mercy, for if it had escaped we would have drifted down the river without any means of regulating or guiding our course. Then the men all pulled together on the rope and ran the flat up into the bushes about 200 feet from the slip where the flat lands.
It was quite dark, only two lanterns being in the flat, mine and the one the ferryman had. After tremendous effort they got the flat to touch the slip at one end, leaving about four feet of water at the other. I saw that was the best they could do and that it could only stay so for one second, so I called, "Hold it so for a minute." I told Goliah to let go Ruth's head and spoke to her, and as she hesitated gave her a sharp cut with the whip. She leaped out over the gap and we were safe on land.
I drove home too thankful for words for the great escape. Just the thought that we might have been swirling round, drifting down toward the sea with the current, made the drive home seem a delight. When I went to get out of the buckboard, however, I found I was a rag and could scarcely stand.
November 17.
Went out immediately after breakfast and saw Gibbie put half a bushel of cow-peas in the big pot, fill it with water, and make the fire under it to boil food for cows. Then I told him to start ploughing in the half acre of oats. Bonaparte had already scattered the seed. Later in the day I walked down to the field to see the work, and found Gibbie had not done a stroke, had simply gone home, leaving the oats on the earth for the birds to devour. I was too angry to go in pursuit of him. I find it very unwise to speak until I have cooled off. As Bonaparte said to me once, "Ef you don't tek keer dese peeple'll mek yu los yo' soul."
The corn has been so stolen that there is scarcely a fifth of a crop—all the big ears gone, leaving only nubbins. Thehorses are all weak from lack of food and I feel desperate. Even Goliah is changed! All the joy and fun and play seem to have left him, and his fat little black face looks like a thunder-cloud.
His household at home are urging him to demand more wages, and he does not wish to do it, and yet the clamor there makes him discontented. I brought him a suit of clothes and a pair of shoes, in which complete outfit he sleeps. The weather being very mild, I beg him to save the shoes for cold weather, as he has never worn shoes before; but in vain, unless I put them up for him, which I do not wish to do, for I wish him to have the full enjoyment of them. He found an old pair of white kid gloves in the buckboard. I had used them to wear about the place and somehow left them there. Yesterday he asked me for them and now he wears them all the time—cutting wood, eating dinner.
I tried to translate in concise and striking words the French proverb, "Chat ganté n'attrape point de souris," but it had no effect; he sits gazing at his shoes, his white-gloved hands folded in his lap. I have sent him to school, as the public school is only half a mile away, and there is a good teacher, but nothing can restore the little gay Goliah, who jigged as he walked.
He has eaten of the apple and been driven out from the Eden of childhood and from henceforth will always be wondering how much he can get out of me. I knew it had to come, but I am so sorry, and I miss the little boy so much.
Sunday, November 20.
Our rector's Sunday with us. He gave a very interesting sketch of the church convention, which he had attended. I had to play the organ as well as do all the singing, as Miss Penelope was not able to come. I thought it was impossible, but really nothing is impossible, for when I got home feelinglike a rag I found Zadok waiting for me—"to ask my advice," he said.
I had not laid eyes on him for years, but he is the son of a faithful servant and was born in our servants' hall just before the end of the war. He has prospered, married well, and has a large family, who all help in the cultivation of his farm of twenty acres. Now that he has got into trouble he comes at once to me.
His great snare is the dreadful firewater. He told me he had got into "a tangle." Coming back from Gregory one day when he was "not quite himself" he had been accused of cursing and making a disturbance. He had been notified that he would be indicted, and when he went to remonstrate the man said if he paid $25 he would drop the case; but he had put off and put off, and now hears the case is to be tried to-morrow.
I made him tell me everything and felt sure the only thing for him to do is to pay the money as quickly as he can, for if the trial comes off it will go hard with him. He is known as very obstreperous and noisy when under the influence of liquor, though peaceable and civil otherwise; so I told him to get the money as quickly as he could and try to pay it before the trial came up. I was greatly worried about it and had Jim put Alcyone in the small buckboard and drive me down to Mr. B.'s. I took a very pretty apple geranium as an offering to his wife.
I told them I had come to see what I could do to help Zadok, that I was much distressed to hear he had misbehaved, that his father had been our trusted and faithful servant during the war when there was no man at home, and I begged them if he promised to pay the $25 to drop the case. Mr. B. said he thought it had now gone beyond his power to drop it, but he would try what could be done. On the way home I met Zadok in his buggy, which is a very nice one, driving hishorse, which is a very good one. I told him I had done all I could and begged him to make a humble apology. He said he would and seemed much impressed.
Little Alcyone is a swift little filly and went splendidly, but she is not large enough to take two people in a buckboard that drive of sixteen miles at the pace she likes to go. It is an unwise thing to let her do it. She should have a light road cart only, for she will not walk at all. I really felt when I got home as though I had been actively employed from the time of Noah and the flood. Zadok promised me to stop drinking. God help him to keep his promise!