Casa Bianca.
Casa Bianca.
Cherokee, November 27.
Before I started out this morning I called for Bonaparte and showed him a large portfolio of engravings and prints and told him to make a light wooden frame into which I could slip it to send by express. I specially told him to leave one end open so that I could put the portfolio in myself. When I got back from Casa Bianca this evening I found the very neat little light frame and was delighted, until I found the portfolio was nailed up in it so securely that I would have had to break the frame to get it out. It was too provoking, for I had not meant by any means to send all its contents.
The time for the payment of taxes has come. Mine are over $100 and my little cotton crop cannot cover them after paying my yearly accounts, so I must sell something, and I decided to send some of the things in the portfolio on to NewYork to be sold. There are a lot of queer old things in it which many would call rubbish, but which I delight in—a map of the city of Charleston in its veriest infancy and engravings of a horse and dog which had won beautiful silver prizes in 1760 or thereabouts. These things are of great interest in the family and especially to me, who live in the past so much.
Then there were some water colors I wanted to keep. Altogether this seems the last straw to a very tired camel. Bonaparte had gone home, it was late Saturday evening, and Jim is to take the box down to Gregory when he goes to-morrow to send off by express Monday, and I just gave up and let them all go. The eternal struggle against contrarieties and difficulties is too much for me.
The time for tax paying has nearly passed and if I do not send the things off to-morrow they will have to wait another week.
December 7.
The pace has been most rapid for some time and I find that when I have pleasant companionship I neglect my faithful dumb confidant.
Bonaparte's wedding preparations have caused me much anxiety. I promised him some money for the occasion and sold two of my precious young heifers to be sure to have it, but there has been some hitch and the money has not reached me, and when he came for it yesterday I had to tell him I did not have it, which hurt me.
To-day by mail arrived two large packages, both with special delivery stamps on them, a beautiful frock-coat and waistcoat. My dearest L. had sent them to Bonaparte. I hurried out to his house with them. He was out, but I put them in his daughter's hands. He had confided to me his anxiety as to his wedding garments, as he said the wedding being in town he wished to be suitably dressed. I wrote allthis to L. and she truly did the impossible in getting them here in time, as she only returned to Washington from the mountains two days ago.
Just before dinner D. arrived, having brought a present of two mallard ducks. I was so charmed to have them, for C. leaves, to my regret, to-morrow. Later I received the check I had been expecting, so that I had the satisfaction and relief of sending for Bonaparte, who had not yet started for Gregory, and fulfilling my promise.
He was radiant. All's well that ends well, I suppose, but I have really suffered from the tension of fearing that the faithful old man was going to be disappointed.
December 9.
Sent C. and her delightful little Albert down to take the train yesterday. Their visit has been an unalloyed pleasure. Jim, being in Gregory, attended Bonaparte's wedding at 8 o'clock last evening. He says it was a most elegant and well-conducted affair, with an abundance of good cake and wine, and his respect for Daddy B. has risen immensely, which is a comfort and relief to me, for they are not very friendly. Bonaparte boasts, "Yes, Jim kin mak de crop, but Jim ain't got de key; I got de key," and of course that is aggravating.
I am very sensible of the thorns which accompany the roses of faithful service with both Chloe and Bonaparte, but all the same I thank the good Father for the thorns, because of the roses which sweeten my life.
December 13.
A good steady rain last night, thank God. There was a frightful danger of fire getting away in the woods. Every one was nervous about it. I am very tired, for I had to burn the chimneys, which always scares me terribly. I always have Bonaparte to help, and this morning he did not want to doit and said there was not rain enough and was rude to Chloe when she called him, so I determined to burn them myself.
I take a large newspaper, pour about a tablespoonful of kerosene on it, holding the end in the tongs, and as soon as it takes fire thrust it as far up the chimney as my arm will allow, which is not far; that is the reason I like to have Bonaparte do it. In an instant the whole chimney is ablaze, with a terrific roaring. Patty was stationed outside to see if any of the blazing soot lighted on the roof; I on my knees in front of the fireplace prayed with all my might; the terror that there may be a crack or flaw in the chimney is always with me. The great matter is to burn often and then there is no great accumulation of soot.
It has always been a thing I had to wind myself up for, and requires all my will to make me do it. Once I was so demoralized about it that I got a man to come with a regular little chimney-sweep from Gregory. The little fellow went up one chimney, but when he came down he wept and pleaded so not to go up again, saying the chimneys were so long, three stories, and the flues crossed so that he could not breathe, and I would not let the man send him up again. It was an expensive experiment, and I concluded the old time way of burning out was the best, and try to make myself do it once a month.
Cherokee, December 14.
A July day, rainy and hot. War in the kitchen zone. Goliah roused Chloe's ire and she fell upon him with fury. When I went down to remonstrate with Goliah he was in a great rage and I heard him mumbling, "Yes, if I only had my axe I wud 'a' settle 'em," and nothing I said could have any effect, so I had to tell him to leave the yard and not return.
It will be a loss to me, because I know all his faults and can generally meet them, and he is very competent for one of his size with the horses, and drives very well. I take him everywherewith me on the buckboard, but he has a morose, morbid temper and he has been very rude and impertinent to Chloe, so I cannot keep him.
December 15.
While I was wondering how I was to manage, Jim being away, without Goliah to put the horse in for me to go to church, and again in the evening for the rector, who is here on his monthly visit, to go to St. Cyprian's, the negro church, Chloe came in and said:—
"Goliah is yere. He dun ax my pa'don en I gib um, en I tell him I keep nuthin' agenst him."
I think it was as great a relief to her as it was to me to see him installed again. I trust now peace will reign for a while.
December 16.
Have the great pleasure of our Bishop's yearly visit. He came last evening after holding service at St. Cyprian's, the Colored chapel. It rained all night and looked very dismal this morning, but as we sat at breakfast the sun came out and we were all rejoiced. It is the event of the year in the parish and the disappointment of a rainy day would be intense.
We started for Peaceville at 10:15 and I was delighted to find Miss Penelope able to be at her post at the organ. It was a solemn service, with confirmation. The Bishop, Mr. G., and I were invited to a delicious lunch before going on to the little chapel in the woods. The chapel had been whitewashed and well scoured and beautifully dressed in honor of the Bishop's visit, being all hung with holly, moss, and evergreens.
The sight was touching. All the women had met together and scoured first and then decked it with nature's wreaths. Poor little Alifair had brought her month-old baby, which weighed about five pounds, to be christened. She asked me to be godmother and I found she had named it after me. Hermother told me this and asked anxiously: "Miss Patience, you won't mind?"
"No, no," I said; "it is always a compliment." But when I found it was a combination of my name with my dear mother's I felt a little abashed.
The little thing was so very white and so very tiny that I felt almost afraid to handle her, poor little mite. The father, a boy of 18, found matrimony too serious and slipped away some months ago.
The church was very full and I think they all carried away real help in their daily lives from the Bishop's sermon. We did not get home until nearly dark, but it had been a most delightful day.
Goliah has been behaving very badly lately. Chloe came to me looking very portentous one day to tell me he had a gun hid in the kitchen in the yard and that when anything went against him or she told him to get more wood he would bring out the gun and threaten to shoot Patty and herself.
Goliah was out at the time and I asked Patty if she knew where the gun was. She said yes, and I told her to bring it to me, which she did, and I locked it up. When Goliah came home and missed the gun from its hiding-place he went on terribly, Chloe said, cursing and swearing to kill every one.
I was busy in the house and heard nothing of this, but finally he came to me before he went home and said Patty had taken his gun and please to make her give it to him. I answered:—
"I took the gun which has made you behave so badly and have locked it up."
"De my Brudder Bill gun, en' I want um."
"When your brother wants his gun he can come for it, but I cannot permit you to have a gun in this yard. Never again dare to bring one!"
He went off very sulkily. The next day Bill's wife came and asked for the gun, saying it was her husband's. I told her if I gave it to her it must be on condition that she never let Goliah have it again. Lizette was with her and I appealed to her to witness to Dorcas's promise never to let Goliah have the gun. The promise was made and I gave up the gun. Since then quiet has reigned in the yard.
I do not know how old Goliah is, but he is four and one-half feet high, and when he is good, like the little girl we have heard of all our lives, he is very, very good, and when he is bad he is certainly horrid. Now he is in a bad spell.
December 18.
A beautiful morning. Ran out to the gate with a letter. When I got a bundle of mail and opening it saw a telegram, I sank down on the ground in fright—and sitting there read the message. Sorrow for those I love, and it is too late for me to reach them in time for the funeral.
While I was debating what to do a boy came up with a note from Miss Penelope: "Terrific fire burning around Peaceville. Miss Pandora and Miss Ermine were nearly burned out. Miss E. worked like a trojan to save it. Better look out for your premises."
I ordered Bonaparte to take Adam, Nan, and a wagon with hoes and rakes and drive out to the village and give all the help he could, and protect my yard if possible. As soon as I had given these orders I drove out myself to take a telegram to the mail.
I found Miss Pandora and Miss Ermine looking as though they had been through a great illness. The fire threatened for two days and a night, and they had fought it all that time, but it was now put out. While I was in the village the wind changed and the fire appeared in another direction. I had Jim take Ruth and Marietta out and tie them in myyard, so that he could go and help put out the new fire. I took a young pine sapling and helped beat it out.
It is awful to hear the roar of fire through the pine woods and know how hopeless it would be if it once crossed the line and rolled around the rambling, elongated village. The negro men and women who happened to be near behaved very well and worked with a will, and I will certainly reward them generously. I stayed until the fire seemed finally out and by burning a space to meet the oncoming flames, I trust the danger is past. Those who are accustomed to wood fires, and there are men in the village who have had experience and directed the work, now think it is safe.
I sent a telegram to ask if I was needed, and if an answer comes I will go; if no answer comes I will know they do not need me. It would be difficult for me to go just now, as I am expecting some sportsmen as paying guests, and must be at home. I am as nervous as though I were going to execution.
Cherokee, December 22.
I was sitting at dinner to-day when I heard Goliah run up the front steps and ring the bell violently. Knowing from the sound that there was something the matter, instead of sending Patty, who is in a constant state of war with him, I went out myself. He was panting as from a long run and gasped out:—
"Pa baig yu for meet 'um to de front gate."
"When?"
"Rite now, soon ez yu kin git dey."
"Where is your father?"
"Him dey 'een de sheriff buggy gwine to de chain gang."
"How is that possible?"
"Dem had um to Mr. Haman to de co't dis mawnin'."
"Who had him there?"
"Dorcas en him ma, en pa dun condem'."
I waited for no more, entirely forgetting that I had not eaten my dinner of delicious shad. I put on my hat and flew out to the front gate. One feels very tenderly for those one has helped and poor Elihu has been a care and anxiety to me for years.
His family relations have always been difficult and complicated. His second wife and nearly all his children having died of a galloping consumption, he has now taken a third wife who has eight children of her own and is a termagant, so that though he works hard, and is honest and law abiding after a fashion, and very civil, even courteous, in manner, he is always in some trouble, generally debt. On my way to the gate I met Lizette, his daughter, crying as she ran on her way to call me. I asked what it meant, as I had been unable to get anything out of Goliah, and she explained to me that Elihu had been away working in a lumber camp when Goliah had threatened Chloe with the gun, and when he came home and heard of it he was very angry, and said Bill had no right to let Goliah have the gun; that he had lent it to Bill when he was getting well from typhoid fever and able to walk about and shoot, because Bill's gun had been taken for debt, he never having paid for it after the first instalment.
Yesterday Elihu went to Bill's house and asked for the gun. Bill was out and his wife refused to give up the gun, upon which Elihu scolded her, no doubt in strong language, until finally she went to her trunk and took it out piece by piece, trying her best to convince him that she did not have all the parts. She ended, however, by giving them all up. When her mother came in she reviled her for being so meek spirited as to take a scolding from Elihu and give up the gun and proceeded to curse and abuse Elihu.
Of course he was not found wanting in retorts and a neighbor had to come in and make the peace. Elihu thought nothingmore of it until he received a summons this morning from the so-called Judge to appear in court. He went with no idea of anything serious, had no witnesses even, but found that Dorcas's mother had indicted him.
By this time we reached the avenue gate and I sent Lizette to run to tell Jim, who was ploughing in the field, to put Ruth in the buckboard quickly and bring her to the gate. Shortly after I reached the avenue gate a buggy drove up containing Mr. Stout, the deputy sheriff, and Elihu, looking too downcast, black, and forlorn for words.
Elihu is of a peculiarly rich shade of black, almost blue black. His own mother when he was a boy always spoke of him as "dat black nigger." Through all the trials and tribulations of his fifty years of life he has never been in danger of the chain gang before, for he has kept a good character for one of his hue, and now the certain prospect of the gang unless some miracle happened had crushed the spirit out of him. I scarcely would have known him. I walked out of the gate and said:—
"Why, Mr. Stout, what does this mean?"
"It means, Miss Patience, that I'm a-taking Elihu to the chain gang. I've got the warrant in my pocket."
"And on what ground?"
"For cursing, Miss Patience, and making a disturbance on the public highway."
"Was he not in his son's house?"
"Yes, Miss Patience, but the Judge says that is within fifty yards of the public road."
"Has it been measured, Mr. Stout?"
"No, ma'am, Miss Patience, 'tain't been measured, but the woman said it was only forty yards from the road, en the Judge said he knowed the place and that was right."
"What is the sentence?"
"Thirty days on the gang, Miss Patience, or a fine of $50."
"Mr. Stout," I said, "you turn right round with me and drive back to Mr. Haman with Elihu. That house is more than fifty yards from the highway."
This he said he dared not do.
By this time Jim had brought Ruth in the buckboard, and I got in and drove out of the gate.
"Mr. Stout," I said, "I thank you very much for having driven this way so that Elihu could see me, and I have a favor to ask of you. If you are afraid to go back with me, at least promise me you will wait at the turn of the road, until I come back. I will drive fast, you won't have long to wait, but you must do it," and before he could answer I had driven off.
It was a very cold evening and nearly dark. In my excitement I had put on no extra cloak, but I did not feel the cold. In marvellously short time the four miles were passed and I stood at Mr. Haman's gate. Goliah opened it and I told him to wait there until I came back, as I did not want him to hear the conversation.
On my second call Mr. Haman came out and was of course much surprised to see me. He was most polite, and eager to invite me in.
"Come in, come in, Miss Patience, I beg you," he said, "this wind is too piercing for you. I beg you will let me tie your horse."
"Thank you, Mr. Haman, but I cannot come in. I have only a moment's business with you. I want you to give me an order to Mr. Stout to release Elihu."
With a smile of greatest indulgence he replied, "You know, Miss Patience, I'd do anything to oblige you, but my duty, my duty, madam, is my first consideration, and even for you I must refuse to do anything contrary to my duty."
"Tell me," I said, "of what he is convicted and what is the sentence?"
"He is convicted of cursing and creating a disturbancewithin fifty yards of the public highway, and the sentence is thirty days' work on the chain gang or a fine of fifty dollars."
"Mr. Haman, you must sign that release until the distance is measured. I know that it is more than fifty yards from the road to Bill's house, and until that distance is measured his committal to the gang is illegal. Elihu is a hard working, docile, respectable negro. If I wanted anything hard done to-night such as to send by land or water ten miles Elihu is the man I could call upon, knowing he would not refuse. If I had occasion to drive forty miles this night through the darkness, Elihu is a man I could trust to take me safely through the darkness and do it cheerfully. And you think I will see him put on the chain gang illegally? You don't know me, Mr. Haman."
He listened as if he did not hear, so determined was he not to yield and so accustomed to shake the law at people.
He said he would get the book and read me the section, but I said that was unnecessary, I knew the law; the point was whether this case was within the legal distance. Darkness was coming and I was making no headway. At last I said:—
"If I were to sign a note for fifty dollars would you give me the order for his release?"
"Oh, yes, Miss Patience, if you pay the money that'll be all right."
"Very well; bring me ink, pen, and paper and I will sign." He went in and returned very quickly with pen, ink, and a check. I had not meant to sign a check, but a note; however, I signed it in ink and then asked for a pencil and on the back wrote, "Not to be presented until distance is measured." He seized the check with delight; when he turned it over and saw the writing on the back his face changed.
"Now," I said, "will you give me the order for Elihu's release?"
"No," he said, "I will not."
I was still sitting in the buckboard and I just leaned forward and took the check from his hand. He was so taken by surprise that he was silent for a second; then he said:—
"I'll go down and measure the distance for you, Miss Patience."
"When?"
"To-night, right now. I'll get my buggy en you kin go right on and I'll follow you."
I was truly thankful, for it was getting very late and I was so afraid that Mr. Stout would not wait. I drove rapidly toward the gate, which is approached by a causeway. When I got well on that, a thought struck me; though it would be a singular trial to me, to save time I would offer to take Mr. H. down in my buckboard. I saw a negro woman near and said to her:—
"Please run in and say to Mr. Haman that Mrs. Pennington will be glad to offer him a seat in her buckboard and he can come back with Mr. Stout."
She ran off briskly and in a few minutes returned and said, "Mr. Haman say never min'; say him ain't goin'."
Fortunately I had taught Ruth to back all over the yard before a harness was ever put on her, for I backed her the length of that causeway in no time and was back at the house. Mr. Haman came out looking considerably worried.
"Mr. Haman, you will not get rid of me to-night until you have signed that release."
"I can't do it! When I write a warrant it's writ, and everybody that knows me knows that."
At this juncture his wife appeared and said: "Miss Patience, he ain't well and it's too cold for him out here; please, ma'am, to come in."
I answered: "I cannot come in, Mrs. Haman. I simply want your husband to write an order to Mr. Stout to releaseElihu Green, whom he has sent to the chain gang for thirty days, until the distance from the road is measured."
"You're right, Miss Patience," his wife answered, and turning to her husband said, "Better do what Miss Patience wants you to do, an' come in out o' this cold wind."
Most reluctantly and heavily at last the words came: "You give that check to Mr. Stout en tell him to turn loose the nigger."
"And," I said, "you will send down early to-morrow to measure the distance?"
He was already disappearing in the door but assented, and again I started for home. Ruth by this time had got worked up and needed no whip; she knew there was something unusual in the air and she flew.
When I reached the turn by St. Cyprian's church, where Mr. Stout had promised to wait, it was so dark I could not see whether he was there or not until I came right up to him. There he was still in the buggy, and when I called, "Please come here, Mr. Stout," slowly he got out and came; I handed him the check.
He struck a match and examined it, then his whole face beamed and he said, "Then I kin turn Elihu loose?"
"Yes," I said, "and I thank you with all my heart for waiting; you have helped prevent a great injustice. Mr. Haman says he will send you down to-morrow to measure the land. If it is more than fifty yards, you will return that check to me; if less you will give it to him. Please come early."
Elihu was dazed with the sudden release as the handcuffs were taken off. After Mr. Stout left I gave Elihu a talk about the disgrace of cursing and making a disturbance, and I said:—
"Elihu, the distance will be measured and if it is less than fifty yards you will have to try and work that $50 out."
"Oh, yes, miss, de Lawd bless you, en I thank you too mutch, en I'll do all you want me to do."
And I made the best of my way home with Goliah behind. All the servants were wild with delight when they heard the result, and Chloe had a nice supper for me, but I was too tired to eat. The depths had been stirred within me and I could only go to the piano and play Rachmaninoff's grand prelude over and over until I was quieted.
Mr. Haman, the magistrate, is a man of foreign birth, and speaks broken English, a German, I suppose. He drifted here after the war and married the daughter of a very excellent old German who had bought a plantation and settled here at that period of change and unrest. Two years ago he was elected to his present office to the surprise of every one.
December 23.
The household was astir early this morning. As I felt it was a moment when I would like to have a gentleman with me, immediately after breakfast I drove over to my good neighbor Mr. F. and asked him if he would come with me and see the distance measured.
He said he would come with pleasure, and he got into my buckboard. Mr. F. with Jim's help measured and found the distance from Bill's house to the public road 250 feet, more than eighty yards. I was greatly relieved, for though I can generally trust my eye for distances I never had thought of this special space and had nothing to compare it with in my mind. It was simply an impression, I may say a conviction; and if it was wrong I would have to borrow $50, for I had not that much in the world that I could put my hand on at this moment.
Still I would rather do that than have Elihu punished and disgraced when he was really in the right.
Just as Mr. F. had finished measuring, Mr. Stout thedeputy sheriff drove up in a very fine buggy with another white man. I greeted them pleasantly and begged them to measure the distance at once, without saying that I had relieved my mind by doing so already. Mr. Stout assisted by Mr. Oliver took the measurements and pronounced it 250 feet. Then Mr. Stout handed me my check for $50.
Thank the good Father for His mercies.
Christmas Day.
Drove to church, where we had a pleasant service. It had been given out that the collection would be for Sewanee. There was great excitement after service when the word was passed around that it was $7! Our plate rarely holds more than half that amount. Every one was very happy over it.
Then went to take the few things I had gathered up for the St. Peter's people to K.'s to be sent to them.
I had to go to the extravagance of buying a comfort for the poor Lewis family; the weather has been unusually cold, and they are so destitute.
I have been quite alone to-day, but not at all lonely, for I have put up candy for the children on the place and little packages for the old people. To-morrow I am to have the joy of a visit from my two nephews, one of whom has been living in New York and has not been here for a long time.
December 26.
E. and A. came about 1 o'clock with guns and dog—perfectly charming both of them—both full of zeal to shoot. I sent Jake up to get another boat and engaged him to come at 5a.m.to-morrow to take them out. He is to get Aaron, who is a good paddler.
December 27.
Very early this morning Jake came and said he had failed to get Aaron. Jim came into the house, made the fires, andwaked the boys; then went out to the "street" to get a paddler. First he went to Frankie's house; he was in bed and refused absolutely to come, saying he was too comfortable. Then he went to Gibbie's house; he talked a great deal, but finally said he would come.
Meantime E. got off in the light canoe with Jake. A. waited until Gibbie rode up on his bicycle to say that it was a very dangerous business, etc., and finally that he could not come, so Jim had to take A. out, though he is no paddler.
As soon as I heard what had happened I wrote a paper to Frankie and one to Gibbie. "You will leave this place at once," and sent it to them. Only yesterday when they came up for the annual powwow they made a solemn promise to do all that I called on them for. I made them promise this, because for some time there has been a growing disposition not to do what I want done, and if I let it go on and pass over anything like this I will lose all control of the place.
I am sitting out in the sun and have thawed out while writing this. Oh, the goodness and mercy of God! A sense of it pervades my being to-day. Though I have had my small trials already this morning, they seem as nothing when I think of all His patience and long-suffering and loving-kindness to me.
Cherokee, December 28.
E. and A. seem perfectly happy to be here, and their visit is an unbroken pleasure to me. They have not got very much game, but just to paddle round the creeks or to walk over the woods gun in hand seems to revive all the happiness of their childhood.
To-day we went to Casa Bianca for the day, and went prepared for them to spend the night if they found the ducks plentiful enough to make it worth their while. When they went down into the fields, Nat paddling one and Jim the other,I started back home alone. I got here after a perfect drive and glorious sunset.
To my great pleasure I found C. here, and then began to hope the boys would not spend the night at Casa Bianca. So I was delighted when at 9:30 the dogs announced their arrival. They had shot a good many ducks, but not having a dog to fetch had not got one.
We had a delightful evening. While I was gone to-day a man had brought a bushel of oysters fresh from the sea, so I could give them a nice oyster supper.
Rice-fields from the high lands.
Rice-fields from the high lands.
Gibbie came to-day and among other things said he never could paddle. "Yu knows yuself, Miss Pashuns, I neber could paddle."
"On the contrary, Gibbie, I know you to be an expert paddler," I replied. "So much for that excuse.
"Three of your children were born in the house I had repaired for you. Then the best house on the place became vacant and you asked me to let you move into that because it was nearer your brother's. I let you do it and charged no more rent. You were ill. I paid your doctor's bill, which money you have never returned to me. I sent you milk daily until you were quite well, and during your mother's illness of three months I sent her a pint of fresh milk night and morning until she died.
"Your wife this winter burned down the house you occupied. There is no use for you to shake your head and say no. What else was it when she sent your eldest boy, 5 years old, into the loft, which was packed with fodder and corn and hay, to get peas, with a burning lightwood torch in his hand?Instead of telling you that you must leave the place, as I could not furnish another house to one so criminally careless, when you begged me to have another house repaired for you to move into, I did so. The burning of the house was a complete loss of $300 to me.
"I let you off the rent of the house for the last month and waited on you for the payment on the other house long after it was due. All this time you told me you had no money and I waited, but you told other people on the place that you had $30 put away from your last three months' work.
"It would take a whole day to remind you of all the kindnesses I have done to you and all the meannesses you have been guilty of to me. And now my father's two oldest grandsons come to spend a few days at the old home shooting ducks, and I send for you to paddle one of them in a boat, not as a favor, mind you, but to be well paid for it, and you ride up on your bicycle to say you cannot do it.
"There is no use to say a word, Gibbie, I will not hear it. The time has come for us to part company. You must go."
He turned and walked down the step with a sullen look. I will miss the $2 a month which the two houses brought in, but it is necessary to do a thing like this once in a while.
Cherokee, December 30.
Mrs. L. has become greatly interested in the poor white people out at St. Peter's-in-the-Woods and she sent me word that if convenient to me she would come up to-day in her motor and get me to go out there with her to distribute some things which she had collected for them. I was so delighted at her interest that I said it would be perfectly convenient, and though in the back of my mind was the picture of the dining-room chimney place all torn to pieces, I asked the party to take lunch with me.
So early this morning I sent for Bonaparte and told him hemust make some mortar and repair the fireplace and put back the mantelpiece and please to have it done by 12 o'clock so that Patty Ann could clean up the mess and make the fire and be ready for lunch at 1. All of which was done, and by the time the sound of the auto was heard everything was ready but myself.
I had been obliged to contribute greatly to the result and had not time to change my working outfit before they came. That did not matter, however. They brought a huge hamper and basket full of all sorts of nice things. The dear little girl had brought lots of her dresses and above all toys! Such beautiful things, Teddy bears and billikins and dolls and animals and clowns. They brought also groceries.
We had our lunch and then I joined them and we went the nine miles in no time. The visit to Louise Moore was most successful. She and her house and children were clean and sweet. That term could not be applied to the biggest boy, about six, however, as he had been skinning four possums, which were extended on sticks in the little porch.
Then we went on to poor old Mrs. Sullivan and her Dickens-like daughter. She was overjoyed at the groceries and nice things. Her great poverty was very apparent in her surroundings, above all the flimsy garments she wore, but all was clean. The next visit, two miles beyond, was also satisfactory, but alas, the last visit was a shock. Mother, daughter, and granddaughter were too untidy for words. I could not help wishing we had not gone there, it was so disappointing.
Certainly nothing could show more their need of help and industrial training. I had only seen them as a rule at church and had no idea this special family was so untidy. I had been to the home two or three times, but I suppose that was not on Saturday afternoon when everything, including ablutions, had lasted over since the Saturday evening before.This last visit rather dampened our spirits, though the little Frenchwoman, who had carried a large box of stick candy which she distributed as we went, found something pleasant to say even about that.
When we got back to Cherokee Chloe had a cup of tea ready and the party returned to Gregory. I felt anxious, it being late and cold. They left a large basket of things for me to keep for further distribution. I wish so I could get at the poor Lewis family with some of them.
Miss Chevy, who was visiting Mrs. Sullivan, answered when I asked about the Lewises in a high and righteous voice:—
"Yes, Miss Pashuns, they've gone away bag and baggage an' I tell you truly it's a good riddance, Mis' Lewis she acted that ridiklous with them children.
"A man come there one day in a wagon from de up country lookin' for han's to pick cotton, an' he asked me if them Lewises could pick cotton, an' I spoke up an' said, 'Yes, sir, they kin pick cotton every one o' them, 'en he jes' drove right to the house an' asked them to go with him en he carried them all off, father and mother and three children, en I'll tell you, Miss Pashuns, it's me that's thankful.
"You see I didn't tell no lie; he didn't ask me if they would pick cotton, but he ask if they cud, an' I up an' says they cud, but I didn't say they's that shiftless that they won't do it."
"You see I didn't tell no lie."
"You see I didn't tell no lie."
In the mail which I found when I got home I had a letter from a friend referring to an adventure which I had four years ago that I do not think I ever wrote down, so now I am goingto do so, for I forget things so entirely. My friend had come from New York to make me a visit of a week. At the end of that time, wishing to be with her as long as possible, I drove her to Gregory in the buckboard to take the train. The train left at 4:30, which in the latter part of December is very nearly dark.
I had taken Jonadab behind the buckboard. When I started on the fourteen mile drive home, I felt dismayed, for I knew it would be dark soon. I crossed the ferry with the last light of the dusk and drove on into blackness.
I had only gone a little way, however, when we drove into a forest fire. Both sides of the road were aflame and Ruth at first was frightened, but finding it did not come into the broad, white, sandy road, she soon enjoyed the illumination as I did.
For about three miles we passed through this brilliant region, and then I saw we were coming to the end of it and would soon be in the darkness again, so I told Dab to get out and pick up a good piece of lightwood for a torch and light it, which he did, succeeding in a very short time in getting a long, fat piece full of turpentine, and just before we left the fields of light he lit it and held it behind so that it gave a very satisfactory path of light just ahead of the horse.
All went well until we came to a turn in the road where we had two bridges to cross and I feared, as they were narrow and without railing, that I might not see well enough, so I told Dab to get out and carry the torch in front until we crossed the bridges. This he did, walking quite rapidly, so that just after we crossed the last bridge the torch blew out; the rapid motion somehow being in front, made too much draught. Dab was much concerned, but I said:—
"It does not matter now, Dab, we are only three miles from home and I know every foot of the road; get up behind and we will soon be at home."
He got up behind the buggy and we went on several hundred yards, when there was a terrific report, and great flames of fire, blue, green, and red, passed over our heads. Ruth dashed, throwing me out on my head, upsetting the buggy, broke loose and disappeared in the darkness. I must have been stunned, for I got up quite confused, found no horse in the shafts, and just walked ahead, forgetting all about Dab.
As I walked on I heard the noise of the horse in the woods to the left of the road. I went in a little way and called to her. Fortunately she has always come to my call, and did not fail to do so now. I caught her and led her back to the buggy. I found both traces broken and felt hopeless.
By this time Dab, who must have been stunned too, came forward to help. I gathered all the strings that the resources of feminine apparel furnish, and tied up the traces, then without getting in, told Dab to lead Ruth off, which he did, but the buckboard did not move. I had no knife to cut holes in the leather, so no string could hold. Still making the effort to secure the two pieces together I said:—
"Dab, what did happen? I never have seen or heard such a thing before. Do you know what it was?"
Dab, stuttering fearfully, said: "'Tis—is—is—is de fiah cracker, ma—a—a—m!"
"What?" said I.
"Yes, ma—a—m, I—I—I buy six roman candles to town en I had dem een my bussom en me jacket button ober dem, en w'en the torch gone out I ben' down, en bin a blow um fu make um blaze, en a spa'k fly een me bussom en set off de roman candle, en den dem blow we up."
There in the darkness three miles from home, with no hope of mending the harness, I laughed until I sank on the sandy road. I could not stop laughing, to Dab's great amazement. Why his nose was not blown off I can't imagine; it had been such a near thing that he was much nearer tears than laughter,and he had expected certainly a scolding from me, and now this totally unexpected and unnatural laughter awed him still more.
When I resumed my efforts I saw far down the road a light drawing slowly near. When it got within hailing distance I called several times before I got an answer. I said: "Please come here, whoever you are. I am in trouble and I want your help."
They seemed reluctant and came slowly. When they got near enough and the light fell on me, one man said: "Why, my Lawd, 'tis you, Miss Pashuns?"
"Yes," I said. "Who are you? I don't seem to know you in the dark."
"No, ma'am, you don' know me, but I knows you well. I'se Rastimus en dis is my fren' Joshuay."
"Well, Rastimus, I want you and Joshua to fix my harness for me. I've had an accident and I can't manage it at all myself. Have you a knife to cut a hole in the trace, because we can do nothing without that?"
"Yes, my missus; I got a very shaa'p knife, en don't you worry, me en Joshuay'll hab um fix korrek, fo' yu knows it."
And true enough, though their motions were very unsteady and the air was redolent of firewater, in very quick time the harness was tied up in an ingenious and substantial way. Then I asked for the loan of the lantern. This they hesitated about, but when I gave my word that it should be sent to the store the next day with a little note of thanks and an enclosure for each, they consented, and I went on my way with songs of praise and thanksgiving in my heart for the many and varied dangers I had escaped. The next day the lantern was duly returned, with a quarter apiece for my knights-errant.
December 31.
Spent this last day of the old year writing letters of thanks and affection, and after dark I made up a bright fire, Chloeand Patty Ann having gone away on their Sunday outing, and sat in the firelight without lighting the lamps and reviewed the mercies and blessings of the past year. God forgive me for my mistakes and sins therein, my blindnesses and lost opportunities.
I keep wondering if it is His will that I should give up this life. I do not want to be headstrong about it. I have so loved the freedom and simplicity of the life, in spite of its trials, and isolation. The living close to Nature—the trees, the birds, the clouds, and all the simple loving dumb things.