PEACEVILLE, November 3.
I drove up from Gregory alone yesterday, reaching the village just at
dusk. I thought with delight of the peace and quiet of the pineland
settlement after the distress and indignation which I had felt since I
left it.
Dab ran to open the gate, and Chloe had a nice supper ready for me, but
I felt something in the air that made me lose the restful feeling, and
as soon as I had finished my dainty little meal and Dab had cleared away
things Chloe came in arrayed in the spotless white apron and kerchief
which I dread, for they mean something serious.
After a few trivial efforts on my part to keep on the surface, for I
was so tired and did so wish to float a little while, Chloe cleared her
throat and began:—
"Miss Pashuns, ma'am, I cry studdy frum Tuesday night till now."
"My dear Chloe," I exclaimed, really alarmed, "how distressing! Have
you lost some of your family? Not your grandson, I trust!"
"No, ma'am, I wouldn't a-cried es much fu' dat! No, Miss Pashuns, dis
is wuss! I cry en I cry en I cry."
"For Heaven's sake, tell me, Chloe, what has happened!"
"Miss Pashuns, I know it would dustress you so dat I wouldn't tell you
till you dun eat yo' suppa, 'case I say maybe yu might faint 'way w'en
yu hear."
"Oh, Chloe," I cried, "I will faint away now if you don't get on and
tell me what has happened."
"Miss Pashuns, Dab shot Mr. 'Apa's dog!"
"Impossible, Chloe! When?"
Then followed a long narrative which I did not altogether understand,
but she said: "Didn't bin fu my gone to see Mr. 'Apa an' cry an' baig
um to wait till yu cum back Dab wud 'a' bin on de chain gang by now, fu
Mr. 'Apa bin dun indict um, but I baig um for hab de case put off till
yu cum back. Happen so I hear 'bout um een time."
I called for the lantern and went off at once to Mr. H. Chloe begged me
not to go out alone into the night and said she thought Mr. H. and all
the family would be in bed, but I felt I must know the worst before I
went to bed.
When I knocked the door opened on a pretty picture of home, a beautiful
young mother leaning over a six weeks' baby in a big rocking-chair used
as a cradle and four boys sitting around the fire. I begged Mr. H. to
speak with me a few minutes in the piazza, as I thought it best not to
discuss the matter before all those boys, though it was certainly much
more comfortable inside than out, for it was sharply cool. As soon as
the door closed I exclaimed:—
"Mr. H., I am too distressed to hear that Dab has shot your dog! I
cannot tell you how sorry I am! Is it dead?"
"No, Miss Pennington, he never shot the dog at all, and I don't think
he meant to shoot him either. This is the way it happened:—
"I had been out on a deer hunt and was coming in a little after dark,
my hound dog running ahead of me. I heard him bark at something when I
got near my house, but it was too dark for me to see what it was till
I heard the report of a pistol and saw the flash and the ball dropped
near by me.
"When I got near enough to see it was Dab; he said the dog jumped at him
and tore his pants and he shot to scare the dog, but he said he didn't
shoot at him and I don't believe he did, but I indicted him because it
was a very wrong thing for him to shoot right in the road that way; he
might have shot some one; indeed he came mighty near hitting me, and he
had no business shooting a pistol anyway; it's against the law.
"So I indicted him, but I told the Magistrate not to proceed till you
got home."
I thanked him very much for his consideration and after making a little
visit to the cosey party inside I went home. I asked him what I had
better do, as I had not the faintest idea, never having had anything to
do in law-courts.
He advised me to go and see the Magistrate and said that if any
compromise could be made he would not push the case. He knew the
punishment was a fine of $50 or thirty days on the chain gang.
I was quite overcome by his kindness and magnanimity in the matter and
tried to say so, but by this time I was so exhausted that I fear I was
not eloquent, to say the least.
This morning I interviewed Dab on the subject, speaking with all the
force and wisdom I could. I cannot go to Judge H. until after to-morrow,
for he will be busy with the election and have to go to Gregory, I
believe—so I went to the plantation.
The quantity of peas gathered is most encouraging. I am quite delighted.
I did not hope for half so many, and now the vines are being cut for
hay with still a great many pods on them. It has not been cold enough
yet to blast them.
The colts are growing finely and came running up as soon as they saw
me. All the creatures, horses, cows, pigs, and sheep, are well, and I
derived my usual refreshment and brightening by a few hours spent in
God's good fresh air with the dumb things and the faithful trees, and
came home quite cheerful and serene.
PEACEVILLE, November 4.
I had a sleepless, miserable night; the thought of Dab's going to
the chain gang for firing a pistol was too distressing, and I saw no
possibility of raising $50. It was a great comfort to me that Mr. H.
did not believe there was any malice or premeditation in the act, but
I knew very well there were others who would think differently. I have
no idea what the mental attitude of the magistrate will be.
I talked with Dab a long time and told him that while I would protect
him always from injustice I would never support him in defying the law
in any way. I recalled to his mind what a long fight I had made with him
about a pistol, how when he was a little fellow and somehow got hold of
a pistol which looked as though it might be the Adam of all firearms, I
had a procession formed, he leading, Rab following, and I bringing up
the rear, down to the creek, and there I made him give me the weapon
and I threw it as far as I could out into the water.
It is very hard to know whether Dab is impressed or not. I told him how
miserable it would make me to see him go to the chain gang after all the
trouble I had taken with him, hoping to see him grow up a respectable,
honest man. I could not keep the tears from coming now and then, but
Dab's black face was sphinx-like in its immobility. I told him I had not
$50 to pay, and that all I could do would be to go to the magistrate
and plead the fact that it was his first offence, and that he did not
really understand what a serious matter it was to fire a pistol on the
public highway.
November 5.
Drove up this morning to see Mr. H. about Dab's case. He lives at one
of the old plantation homes, which has passed into new hands. I have
never seen it since, and was quite moved in going there. It is a long,
rambling house, a stone's throw from the Pee Dee River, surrounded by
live oaks.
I left Dab to hold Ruth some distance from the house, out of ear-shot.
Mr. H. was holding court, so I could not see him at once, but his
wife asked me in to the spick and span clean house and showed me her
beautiful begonias, of which she asked me to accept cuttings, which
I was pleased to do. When Mr. H. arrived I made my plea for Dab, and
Mr. H. relieved my mind by saying as it was a first offence and Mr.
A. was willing not to push it, he would try to arrange it "as light as
possible."
He would send the Sheriff in a day or two for Dab, telling him to take
the handcuffs along but not to use them unless Dab resisted arrest; but
that if he came quietly, gave up the pistol and answered all questions
frankly, he thought it could be arranged. He then set going a phonograph
and treated me to "Rock of Ages" as sung by Trinity church choir, New
York. _O tempora, o mores!_
I returned home, the horizon of my experience enlarged in an unexpected
direction, wondering over the kindness of people generally, but very
weary and worn with anxiety.
November 6.
The Sheriff came for Dab this morning while he was currying Ruth. Dab
got his pistol from an old stump in the woods where he kept it hid, and
gave it up and went quietly along. I do hope he will behave properly; he
is always so respectful to me, but Chloe tells me he is not so to every
one. If only the green-eyed monster could be eliminated, life would be
easier.
10 P.M. I was so restless this morning that I had to write a few lines.
Then I went to the plantation and about 3 o'clock I started back and met
Dab on the road, returning, looking somehow solemn and made over. I was
overjoyed to see him and tried to extract from him some account of his
experience, but in vain.
[Illustration: "I met Dab on the road."]
His stammer was terrific, and all I heard was that Mr. H. read the law
at length to him and impressed upon him that as it was his first offence
and I had guaranteed that it would never occur again he would only have
to pay costs, but that if ever again he carried a concealed weapon and
shot it within fifty feet of a public highway it would go hard with him.
I feel too thankful and relieved for anything.
November 8.
Sunday. A very beautiful day, and I am always influenced by that, so I
begin to feel rested and more cheerful. We had a very pleasant service
in the little chapel, and though both the alto and myself were hoarse
the hymns were comforting.
My little Sunday-school children came in the afternoon and were very
sweet. The lesson may not do them much good, but it does me a great
deal.
[Illustration: Cherokee steps.]
CHEROKEE, November 11.
Got down to the plantation early, expecting to send Gibbie out with the
ox wagon to move the heavy things. Found he had sent a message to say
he was sick—a sad state of things, hands digging potatoes and no one
to plough down the beds. I went to see Gibbie to see if he were really
sick or only resting after his month's night hunting.
I found him ill. I fear pneumonia. He is not strong enough for all that
exposure at night. I refrained from saying "I told you so," but spoke
very sympathizingly to him. His poor breath was so short; almost a pant.
I prescribed for him until we could get a doctor and had his wife lay
a square of bacon skin sprinkled with turpentine over the side where
the pain was. Then I sent for Green and told him he must take charge of
the stable and cows until his brother should be out again, that I would
let it go on his debt. He was very civil and said he would do his best,
which was a great comfort. It has been a perfect day—bright, crisp,
cool—and now that the effort is over it is delightful to be back in the
large, pretty rooms of the Cherokee house, with everything pleasing to
the eye within and without, and I feel very grateful to the Good Father.
This is my mother's birthday and I would have liked to lay some flowers
on her resting-place, but it was not possible, so I will go to-morrow.
Sunday, November 12.
Started very early and drove to Gregory with a great basket of beautiful
roses. Was in time to attend service in the old church of Prince
George—then I drove in to Woodstock and dined with my brother and was
beguiled by the beautiful afternoon to stay rather late for my long
drive alone.
The key to my front gate at Cherokee had been misplaced, and so I had
to drive through the barn-yard way, which made it necessary to open
four gates. It was quite dark by the time I reached the house and I
was surprised to find it shut up and without a light. I tied Romola and
went all around to try each door, but in vain; there was no one, and I
concluded that Chloe had supposed I would spend the night at Woodstock
and had gone in the woods to visit her sister.
Romola was weary and reluctant to start out again, but I determined the
only thing to do was to go out to Bonaparte's house in the "street" and
get him to come and break open a window for me to get in. I found it
very hard to open all the gates again, but I got to the street safely
and there I found Chloe. She said she had gone after Rab, who had stayed
out late playing with the children, and she was afraid to stay alone
at the yard, having just heard of little old Grace's death, my former
cook, whom I was expecting to come back.
November 14.
Great excitement over the illness of my little grade Guernsey heifer
Winnie. I had three people working on her from 11 till 4. To-night she
seemed better.
Gertie is going to be married, so I have taken a new girl, to be
here a week before Gertie leaves and learn something from her. When I
asked Gertie what she wanted me to give her as a wedding present, she
answered, after much bridling and what would have been blushing if her
onyx hue had permitted, "Ef you could, ma'am, I'd like the 'sperience
dress."
"And what do you wish for that dress?"
"Pearl gray cashmere, please, ma'am."
"That sounds very pretty and bridelike, Gertie, but I'm afraid it will
be expensive."
"Yes, ma'am, 'e cos' 20 cent a ya'd to Gregory."
Much relieved to hear the price, I promised readily to get it. I have
already provided all the materials and had the cake baked for her.
November 15.
Was particularly busy this morning when old Katie arrived. She comes
about once in two weeks to ask for whatever she needs, and has done so
for years, and I clothe and feed her in this way, giving her just what
she asks for. Wonderful to say, this time she brought me a present of
four eggs and I was quite touched. I gave her four quarts of rice, some
grist, a small piece of bacon, and some milk, and after the politeness
of the moment I returned to my work. Had not been fifteen minutes when
old Louisa came with a little present of potatoes and a long appeal for
sympathy and a letter from her daughter which she wanted me to answer
for her. This took a long time. I addressed and stamped an envelope
which I enclosed, so that Louisa will certainly get an answer.
Just returning to the putting down of the carpet, which I have to
superintend most carefully in every detail, when a man came to ask to
rent the estate farm on the sea-shore, so that I only got two carpets
down, and finished those very late.
My good Chloe is in very bad humor, and things are difficult. She is
furious at my having taken Gibbie to milk and cut wood and be about the
yard, though she acknowledges that he does his work well, but he does
not come of a family from which house servants used to be taken, and all
the negroes resent his elevation to employment around the house, though
he does not enter it except to bring in wood, which he does faithfully.
December 1.
Have been worrying a great deal lately about the taxes; they are nearly
$200 and I do not know where the money is to come from. Mr. S., who has
for several years visited this section buying rice, has written to me
several times asking if I had any rough rice to sell. I did not answer
from sheer lachesse. I hated to say that I had none. The little I have
made this year I must keep for seed. To-day I drove to Gregory and
met Mr. S. in the street, and he stopped me and asked if I had never
received his letter. I answered just the truth, that I had no rice at
all this year except seed rice, and only a little old rice left over,
on which I had been feeding my stock, and I knew he did not want that,
but he asked me to send him a sample of that at once, which I gladly
promised to do.
I bought the pearl gray cashmere for Gertie's "'sperience" dress,
a lovely looking soft stuff, truly only 20 cents a yard; cotton, I
suppose, but very pretty. Gertie was enchanted and said it was exactly
right. Fashion is as exacting with them as with the highest social
layer, and not to comply with what is just the last touch of elegance
for a bride would be terrible to Gertie.
When I offered to give her the wedding dress she said it must be fine
white lawn, and she would rather get it herself, as she knew where to
get the finest, that means about 15 cents a yard, and she will have it
made up in the latest fashion for 75 cents or $1 at the utmost.
December 7.
Took the long drive to Gregory again to receive and bring up a mare
that has been sent me to keep for the winter. Having no one whom I can
trust to go to Gregory without visiting the great moral institution,
the Dispensary, I have to go myself and take Cable with me to lead the
horse back. I have never taken him anywhere with me before, but he is
a quiet, civil spoken negro, and comes of good family, and is not deaf
like Gibbie, so I hired him to-day.
Met Mr. S. and he said he had written to offer $1 for one sample of rice
and $1.05 for the other. I told him the letter had not reached me, but
I would accept his offer. I tried not to let him see how surprised and
delighted I was. After this I positively tread on air, for behold the
tax problem solved, as I have nearly four hundred bushels.
To make my heart still lighter, Jim came to ask if he might speak to
me, and he is anxious to come back. I think I discouraged him, unless
his wife is willing to move into the country with him. He represents
that he is getting very high wages, which he also represents that he
certainly earns, for to use his own expression he "delivers a cow a day
on his bicycle!" This marvellous statement means that he is working with
a market, and delivers the supplies on a bicycle instead of a delivery
wagon.
He says his health is wretched and he pines to come back to the country
and to Ruth and Dandy and the other horses. I told him I could not
possibly pay the wages he was getting, but he said he could save more
with less wages in the country, which of course is true.
Altogether the day was a pleasant one in spite of fatigue and anxiety as
to Nana's successful leading home. I proposed to Cable to ride her, but
he seems very timid about horses, and though all battered and bruised
from rough usage on the railroad she was full of spirit and anxious to
have her own way.
I was afraid we might have trouble at the ferry, for Nana is a mountain
horse and had never seen a ferry, accustomed to a bridge or a ford,
and it would be decidedly awkward if she took a notion to ford the
Black River, as it is (more or less) sixty feet deep at the ferry. I
had behind the buckboard a bale of fruit trees from Berckman's done up
in rye-straw, with the heads of rye left on. This Nana was so eager to
get a good bite of, that she followed into the ferry without noticing
where she was going, but when she found the flat in motion, she seemed
frightened. I told Cable to let her eat all the rye she wanted and even
the precious fruit trees, rather than have her begin to fight, and all
went well. She stood quietly eating while we crossed.
December 8.
Not having yet succeeded in getting any one to patch the boiler to the
threshing mill, I determined to go myself to Waverly and try to get
some one. I sent Bonaparte to measure the cracks that I might take the
measurements over with me, and told Gibbie to get the red boat ready
for me. Gibbie, who is very deaf, did not hear "red" and I found him
tugging at my white boat, which is up under the piazza, waiting to be
caulked and painted. Fortunately I passed by and saw him, for it was
an impossibility for him to move it unaided. I succeeded in making him
understand that he was to bring the red boat from the barn-yard to the
house-landing for me.
I went in and turned the eggs in the incubator, filled and trimmed the
lamp, donned my boating outfit, and went to the landing. A long wait
and then Gibbie appeared, looking hopeless. "Miss, I kyan' fin' Bony no
ways, en 'e got de oah en de oahlock shet up een de bahn."
I expressed great impatience at this. Bonaparte should not lock up my
oars. I always have kept them at the house, but poor Bonaparte knows his
own race so well that he has an infinite distrust of them and locks up
everything until it has become a mania.
Having suggested every possible place to find Bonaparte, at last I said:
"Have you looked in the boiler?"
"No, ma'am," with a wondering look.
"Well, look in there at once."
He soon returned at a run to say that "Uncle Tinny and Uncle Bony were
both in the b'iler" and wanted a lantern. This was sent, and after a
prolonged pause they both appeared with the measurements of the cracks.
I patiently tried to understand Tinny's explanation as to where the
holes were, but in vain. At last I said: "Anthony, you just get in the
boat and go over to Waverly with me and you can explain to Captain Frank
where the damage is, so that he will know what materials to send when
he sends a man."
"But, Miss, I ain't fix fo' go. Ef yo' been tell me yo' wan' me fo' go
to Wav'ly wid yo', I'd a dress maself, but I ain' fix; look a' me."
I looked, and truly the little gnome was an object—an old, tattered
derby hat, with the mellow green tint of age, a very dirty new bright
green and white plaid shirt, which only emphasized the extraordinary
patchwork nether garments and coat, from the pocket of which
conspicuously protruded a bottle.
With a grave face I assured the old man that he was quite decent and
must go, and that as he was a fine paddler he could paddle while Gibbie
rowed and we would go like a steam tug. This reconciled him to going
in his working trim, and we started—I sitting in the bow with Tag, my
nondescript terrier, Gibbie in the middle with oars, and the gnome at
the stern paddling.
All this delay had consumed hours and the sky had darkened and it felt
like rain. Chloe came to the wharf to beg me to wait, but I had wasted
so much time and patience that I could not put it off.
I soon found it was a special mercy that I had caught old Tinny and made
him come, for Gibbie proved a poor oarsman and the wind was against us
and very high, so though we had the tide our progress was not rapid, and
I was glad to have the old man, who knows all about boats. With the head
wind Tag and I, high in the bow, were a great disadvantage. I longed
for Elihu, for I would have felt safer with him.
To make things worse, when we got into the broad Waccamaw where the
whitecaps were dancing, a steamer passed up the river, making such big
waves that Tinny wanted to turn back without crossing, but I was not
willing, as we were more than halfway to the mills, and to my surprise
Gibbie supported me and we went on. Fortunately I had taken what the
negroes call an "'iler," a heavy rubber coat, to put over my knees. I
had amused myself with pencil and pad, writing until the pad got too
wet, for the water dashed in constantly. Poor Tag, straight up on his
hind legs in the bow, looked out with dreary eyes, for at the best
of times he hates water, and no doubt he said to himself that if he
were a human he would have more sense than to leave a bright fire and
comfortably carpeted room to be dashed and splashed in this way.
However, we reached the mill safely, and if only I had been successful
in my errand, I would not mind, but Captain L. said he could not
possibly spare any workman to send. This was a great blow, for I had
written to him in June about it and he promised to send some one to
repair the boiler, even naming a day when he would come. I do not
know what to do now, for he knows all about such work and could tell
me exactly what it was best to do, and I have such confidence in him.
I did so wish to get the very little rice I have threshed out before
Christmas. I will have to try to get a man from Gregory.
As I rowed up to the mills I came upon a flat heavily loaded with
lightwood and recognized two of my men on it. I said, "Why, Billy, what
are you doing here? Whose wood is that?"
"De my own."
Now I know why I have had so much trouble in getting my wood cut and
sold. I had put Billy in charge and he has been steadily stealing
my wood, he and his brother together, shipping it in a flat owned by
their father, who is a gentleman of leisure living on his own land on
a pension which he receives from the great Government of these United
States.
Of course I will have to send Billy and Sol off the place after this
discovery, for as Billy had been put in charge of the cutting and
flatting of my wood and has so betrayed his trust, I cannot let him
stay, but he will move to my neighbor's and continue no doubt to steal
my wood, as his father's farm is very near my line. It is ten acres.
Though every one on the place has known all summer what was going on,
no one would give me the least hint of it, and I never would have known
it if I had not made this trip to Waverly and come upon them in the act
of unloading twelve cords of splendid lightwood. Of course it would be
useless to take any legal steps when it is impossible to get testimony.
I got back very weary; it is astonishing how true the old saying is, "A
cheerful heart goes all the day, while a sad one tires in a mile," and
mine was very sad on the way home.
CHEROKEE, December 9.
Was very busy this morning writing letters to catch the mail which
passes my gate at 11, when they came in to say that Annette wanted to
see me "pa'tick'ler." I went out and said, rather shortly: "What can
I do for you, Annette? This is a busy day and you must talk quickly."
Annette twisted her hands together nervously once or twice, and then
answered: "I came to baig you to make my will, ma'am."
"Why, Annette, do you feel ill?"
Her head went down and her apron came up, half covering her face, and
she said:—
"No, ma'am, but I 'spects to be married again. I bin a fateful wife to
St. Luke en' I bin a fateful widder to 'im f'r t'ree year; but now a
very 'spectable man is co't me, en' I'se to be married next week, en' I
wants to put all St. Luke proppity to 'e chillun, de house en' de fa'am
between dem, en' de cow fer Annie, en' de two heffer between dem. De
man I gwine marry got 'e own house en' fa'am, en' 'e seem to speak en'
act very fair, but I wan' to lef' St. Luke chillun secure."
I was so delighted at this evidence of Annette's intelligence, knowledge
of human nature, and loyalty to her dead husband's interest, that I
forgot all about my important letters and drew up a most impressive
document which I had her sign in the presence of three witnesses, being
the disposal of real estate. She only "teched de pen," that is, put her
hand on the end of the pen while I wrote her name, and she made a mark.
When the will was satisfactorily executed she wanted me to keep it, but
this I declined to do, advising her to give it into her mother's care,
if she preferred not to keep it herself.
December 10.
Went to church, though there was a gale blowing and the trees looked
very dangerous buckling and bending over the road. Ruth behaved well,
though she did not like it. When I got back, bringing L. to dinner with
me, I found Jim waiting to see me, having ridden up from Gregory on
his bicycle. He said he wanted to come back, that his wife was not only
willing but anxious for him to come, as she had no pleasure in his life
in town, he was so ailing and worked so hard. He begged me to take him.
The only thing he wanted to ask was that I would let him spend every
Sunday in Gregory, for he sang in the choir in his church and didn't
want to give up the music. I told him I would always do so if possible,
but that there might be circumstances which would make it impossible to
spare him on Sunday.
[Illustration: The smoke-house at Cherokee for meat curing.]
He cannot come until he gets some one to take his place, but as he is
coming I will put off the meat curing and sausage making until he comes,
for my mother taught him the best way of doing all that, and it makes
it so much easier than undertaking it with a green hand. Jim is to do
almost everything, under our present agreement; but Gibbie is still to
milk and to keep the stables clean and cut wood for the house.
December 11.
Lent Bonaparte the ox wagon and team to go to Gregory and lay in his
household supplies. Sent a note to Billy P.—and his brother, who had
been selling the lightwood for themselves instead of for me, telling
them to leave the place with their families at once. Of course I should
have taken the money for the wood, but I could not make up my mind to do
that without some legal process, and as I could not get any witness to
testify against them any legal process was impossible. If I had ordered
them to give me one-half the money, quite possibly they might have done
it; but they might have refused to do it and I would then have been
powerless. I am very careful not to give any order which I cannot have
obeyed.
December 12.
Billy and Sol came to beg me to let them stay until January, but I told
them I had trusted them and they had betrayed my trust and must go at
once. I hate to lose their wives, who are good workers, and their little
children, who come to say catechism and sing hymns and have a stick of
candy every Sunday afternoon. Sol's wife, Aphrodite, is such a specimen
of health and maternal vigor that I delight to see her going to work
with her procession of little ones behind her. The men themselves are
strong, able-bodied workers, and I shall miss them; but once having
begun to depredate upon me, nothing will stop them.
I find now that recently they have been living out of my vegetable
garden, and the potato banks have been robbed and there are dark hints
as to their guilt in that, too. I told them they must whip their rice
out by hand at once so as to pay their rent, and take the rest with
them. It is a sad state of things that one is unable to secure redress
in any way for depredation, and so the only thing to do when a tenant
goes wrong in this way is to send him off, so that unless one winks
at evil deeds or condones offences, one will soon be without hands
entirely.
[Illustration: Sol's wife, Aphrodite, is a specimen of maternal health
and vigor.]
December 13.
Yesterday, driving out, I saw a raft of very fine poplar logs being
made down by the bridge in the creek, and this morning I walked out to
see whose logs they were. I have on my woodland across the creek some
very beautiful poplars, some of them about three feet in diameter at
the base. I have several times been offered a price for them, but have
always answered: "When I am in need of bread I will sell those trees,
but not before." Now I feared some one might have cut them, hence my
desire to inquire about the raft.
[Illustration: I saw a raft of very fine poplar logs being made.]
I found Jack and Monday at work on the raft, which was composed of
splendid pine as well as poplar logs. Both of these men had belonged to
my father and now own farms and woodland of their own about two miles
away. They assured me the logs all came from their own land and had
been hauled with their own ox teams. I complimented them on the size
and beauty of the poplar, and just at that moment Daniel, another one
of our former people, now a prosperous landowner, came by in his canoe,
and I took passage with him up the creek to my woodland, as I wanted to
make sure that my poplars were still standing.
As I got out at the landing I offered to pay him, but he said: "Oh, no,
Miss; you don't owe me a cent. I was just on my way home, and I'm glad
to have de chance to do it for you."
I thanked him suitably for his pleasant feeling. At the landing there
was a raft tied of very large logs. I asked Daniel whose it was and he
said it belonged to Frank and Logan, who were cutting on my land. I was
greatly shocked. Logan is the son of one of my father's most trusted
servants who died a few years ago leaving eight sons and three daughters
grown up and married. He was a first class engineer and blacksmith and
could be counted upon always to do faithful, good work. His sons had
most of them followed his trade after a fashion, and all of them had
what is now called education (without, however, any training) and are
smart men; but not one of them has the character, the thoroughness, the
reliability, of the old man, who could neither read nor write, but who
had been trained to do one thing as well as it could be done.
The sons have, one by one, left my service to go where there was more
demand for their work and more pay, but a kindly feeling has remained
between us. They are all prosperous, living on farms of their own.
Some months ago Logan brought Frank, a stranger to me, to ask to handle
the fallen pine trees on my land and give me one-third of the proceeds.
They said they had fine ox teams and each had a logging cart and were
fixed for the business. After thinking over it a while I consented,
for I had been over the land and knew that there were many fine large
trees blown down by the storm which would only rot on the ground if I
refused, for I had no reliable hands to get them to market myself. I
made them sign a paper saying they were to cut no trees, only to take
the prostrate pine, and was quite pleased when the arrangement was
completed.
The results had disappointed me, being much less than I had supposed
they would be. Every now and then they brought me $8, with account of a
raft in Captain L.'s hand-writing showing the amount of my third, and
I had been suspecting that they were carrying many rafts to Gregory
and selling them on their own account, not giving me the third, but I
did not see how I could find out the truth. They had come to me in the
winter to ask permission to "dead" some cypress. This means to ring the
cypress so as to kill it, otherwise it cannot be handled; it will not
float if green.
[Illustration: Cypress trees.]
I refused to give permission for this, and a short time afterward they
asked to be allowed to cut some poplar. This I forbade with horror, and
they went away. Now the sight of this raft made me understand of what
treachery they had been guilty toward my trees.
I counted the logs—twenty pine, four cypress, and two poplar; then I
walked out into the woods and soon came upon Logan with his team hauling
a splendid log and Frank not far behind with another. Just for a moment,
as I stood waiting for them to come up, it flashed through my mind what
a rash thing perhaps I was doing, as both of these men are rather ugly
tempered. I had sent Daniel off with his boat, thinking some one might
come along the creek by the time I was ready to go back. No one at the
house had the least idea where I was, for I had not intended making this
extended trip when I left.
When the men came up I taxed them with having done what I had expressly
forbidden them to do. At first they were disposed to be rude and
answered roughly, but I went on very quietly, using all the self-control
possible, to tell them that they had violated their contract and put
themselves entirely in my power; that I needed no witnesses, for my
own eyes had seen what they were doing. Gradually their whole manner
changed. One hat went off and then the other and Logan came a step
or two nearer, and with a most dramatic air of humility and penitence
said:—
"Miss, you right; en we cry guilty, guilty! We own um, we's guilty, en
you know, miss, w'en a man stan' 'e trial een de co't, en dat man cry
guilty, de jedge don' put de law so heaby to um. We dun wrong, miss; we
egkno'ledge we sin, en we pleads yo' mussy!"
I was completely taken aback. I was prepared for anything but this, and
I had no idea what to say in my surprise. While I considered they stood
with bowed heads, eyes fixed on the ground, and every air of complete
surrender. I was disarmed, and of course did not follow up my victory
as I should. I gave them a little discourse on judgment and mercy
and on the awful sin of deceiving and taking advantage of one who had
trusted one. Then I told them they could take the timber they had cut
and hauled, to market and give me half instead of one-third, and that
after selling these logs they must not touch a stick of timber of any
kind again.
With expressions of profound thanks they led the way down to the swamp
as I told them to do, and showed me all the trees they had cut. It was
heartrending to see the havoc they had wrought, and which nothing could
undo. It took away my breath almost for a time, and I felt almost as
though I had been wrong not to proceed against these men and have them
brought to justice. I knew perfectly I would get no money to speak of
from them.
It is impossible for me to watch the woodland and swamp myself—if
there is no one to see after my interest there it is indeed hopeless.
Bonaparte used to do it, but now he seems to have been intimidated in
some way, and will not undertake to see after it at all.
December 14.
It poured heavily all day. At 1 o'clock they came in to say the wagon
had come for the cotton. Of course I could not send it in the rain, and
I had to send the man back. He was very wet and cold and I gave him some
potato pudding and milk, all that was ready. The gin is about twelve
miles away and I had engaged them to send for my cotton to-day. It was
folly to send in the rain. Still I suppose I will have to pay for it.
Chloe went to St. Cyprian's last night and had much to tell of the
service and her approval of the sermon. She said Mr. G. was "a good
preacher en preached de pure gospel." She told me she had walked back
with old Anthony and that he praised the sermon and then told her of
his dissatisfaction with his minister, a Baptist. She said:—
"Br'er Tinny say, him don' like de preacher dem got; say dem ax de
man fo' preach out to Tolson village, en as him had to cum clean f'um
Gregory ebrybody carry 'nuf money for t'row een, but w'en him beggin fo'
preach dem fin' him preach politiks, en slur, en Latin, en dem 'ordn't
t'row een dem money, en de man neber git but one dollar en a half f'um
dat big crowd o' people."
"Well, Chloe, you will have to tell me what preaching 'slur' means."
"Miss Pashuns, dat mean him hol' up him perfesshun high, en him
scandalize all dem oder Christianity, en dat mek dem feel shame en dem
didn't like dat. Him bin a Babtist, yu see, en de chutch bin full o'
Methodist."
"Oh, I understand now. That was very bad indeed; now tell me what does
preaching politics mean?"
"Dat mean stid o' preach de gospel of de Lord, him bin a talk 'bout de
State en de law, en de guberment, en 'e got dem all tangle up en dem
mind."
"They certainly showed their sense, Chloe, when they objected to that,
for they went to church for heavenly instruction; but tell me what
preaching Latin meant."
Chloe seemed to be a little tired of my questions and to think me dull,
which is not my ordinary trouble, but she explained:—
"Well, Miss Pashuns, yu kno' 'tain't ebrybody kin onderstan' Latin, en
w'en dis man kum to a place wey him hab nuthin' sensible fer said, him
sta'at fu' ramble een a kin' o' gibbish en nobody c'udn't onderstan',
en de man's self c'udn't onderstan'. Br'er Tinny say you c'ud look een
'e eye en see him jes' bin'a wander. Him didn't hab nuthin' fu' say; so
him didn't t'row een him money, en say w'en he yeddy[3] Animus Brown is
fu' preech him stay home."
I was quite amazed that little old man Tinny should have such power
of discernment, and also such apt terms to describe and size up his
preacher, and I was truly thankful he recognized the difference in Mr.
G.'s doctrine and methods.
The darkies have a wonderfully keen insight into character. It is almost
as if by instinct they know the genuine article from the imitation, the
gilt from the gold. When you look at Anthony you would not think he knew
anything more than a sparrow sees with its beady black eyes. He is very
dried up and little, with those very same beady eyes. I think a great
deal of the old man; he makes me a present of a huge pumpkin every year,
and after many efforts to find out what he would like in return I make
my present.
Sometimes I am baffled as to what he would like and give him money. If
I do this, the very next day he hangs his shoes on a stick over his
shoulder and walks down to Gregory, fourteen miles away, invests his
cash in firewater and walks back home, all with a little shuffling gait
which makes it hard to believe he could walk twenty-eight miles a day.
December 18.
This afternoon Gibbie came to say that his mother was very low and so
he would not be able to milk, so I took Goliah to the cow stable to
help Bonaparte milk and then to put up the horses. Many little negroes
of Goliah's size are good milkers, but he has no skill in that line at
all, though he is remarkably clever and useful with horses.
December 19.
Both yesterday and to-day I got up very early and went out to the stable
to help Bonaparte. It is very provoking of Gibbie to absent himself
in this way, for I find he is not waiting on his mother, who has her
husband and three other sons and their wives devoted in their services,
while Gibbie is just idling along the roads.
December 20.
A perfect day, the air warm and balmy. On my way home from church
heard of Eva's death. She was a simple, faithful soul, always diligent,
working hard in her large field around her house and giving freely of
the produce to her five sons, four of whom have families, but none
of them has inherited her working, faithful nature. I will miss her
greatly.
I had a good attendance of darkies at Sunday-school this afternoon.
I was so pleased to see the children all so clean and nicely dressed,
and they behaved so well. There were fourteen girls and fifteen boys,
most of them between 10 and 14 years of age. After they have gone over
the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments several times,
with explanatory remarks from me, they repeat after me a hymn, this
time: "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night," preparatory to
Christmas. Then I go in to the piano and have the girls in the room,
while the boys stand by the window; and they all sing _à faire peur_.
[Illustration: She was a simple, faithful soul—always diligent.]
They enjoy it so that their whole strength is put into sound. In vain
I listen for the sweet voices I have heard in times past—this is all
volume without sweetness—and I fear I will crack my own throat in my
efforts to guide the volume aright. "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," they know
pretty well, also "Onward, Christian Soldiers."
After four hymns they stand in order of size in the piazza and I hand
around two pounds of candy, which just gives each child a stick, and
they depart. But to-day little fellows shot out from the row and four
with much serious unwrapping of handkerchiefs handed me each an egg. I
was much surprised and thanked them with effusion.
They come every Sunday before I have finished my dinner, greatly to
Don's indignation; any arrival at meal-times is displeasing to him, and
for fear he will frighten the children I have him chained as soon as
I come from church on Sunday. These children are all grandchildren of
those who belonged to my father.
December 21.
Bagging rough rice in the barn all day. It is very cold and dusty. I
have most unexpectedly sold this rice for a dollar a bushel, and instead
of being full of thankfulness, my poor human nature is lamenting over
the 600 bushels which I have fed to my creatures all summer, and let
the hands have whenever they wanted it for forty cents a bushel, and
thinking how rich I would be if I had it here now. I cannot get the
rice from this year's crop threshed, little as it is, because it seems
impossible to get any one to work the boiler.
December 24.
Very busy putting up a parcel to send to Dab's little brother Rab who
is, I hope, being made over into a very good boy by the worthy Jenkins.
The parcel contained only a suit of clothes, caps, suspenders, and
necessary underclothing, but I wanted it to reach him on Christmas.
To my intense regret I could not put even a nickel in the pocket. I
generally put a quarter and I know he will search every corner.
The mail brought packages with loving offerings from my dear ones. I had
not the heart to accept the many invitations I had to spend Christmas,
and so I am alone and have time to realize the one great Christmas gift
made to our humanity once for all time. This evening I sent by Gibbie
a little package of good things to each darky child on the place.
Christmas Day.
I sat up until 1 o'clock last night rummaging through my possessions
to find presents for the servants. I cannot bear to have nothing for
them, but my dear father's constant injunction, "Be just before you
are generous," is indelibly impressed upon me. I owe money to several
and so I have not been willing to spend even a quarter on Christmas
preparations.
[Illustration: Winnowing house for preparation of seed rice.]
All the grown servants have gone to the "setting up," which is one
of the strongest articles of their creed and is very impressive, I
think—the feeling that they must not be found in their beds on this
mysterious night when the King of the world was born and laid in a
manger. A feeble old woman with whom I remonstrated, telling her she
was not strong enough to sit up all night, turned on me in indignation,
saying: "Miss, yo' t'ink I 'ood let de Lawd ketch me in baid to-night
w'en de bery cow fall on dey knee! No, ma'am, dis night is fer pray, en
shout, en rej'ice."
My packages yesterday contained six boxes of candy, four of them the
most delicious home-made nut candy of different kinds. I had two pounds
of common stick candy in the house, and after getting up some ancient
silk things, I found five boxes to fill, one for each servant; the stick
candy in the bottom, and some of my delicious things out of my recent
presents to fill up.
I was so in earnest searching in the garret for empty boxes by the light
of a dim lantern that I did not notice what labels they bore until I
had filled the five and put a Christmas card on top of each and put the
covers on. Then I laughed until I cried. The largest, which I had put
particularly nice things in, was labelled "Finest mourning paper" and
had great black bands all around. The next was labelled "Best carbolic
soap," and the others were also soap boxes. It was too late to take
out all the carefully arranged contents and begin over, so I tied them
up with ribbon and put two apples on each so that they would be on
hand when I heard the call: "Merry Christmas!" at my door in the early
morning.
In the olden time there used to be such crowds coming in to the upstairs
hall to wish the Merry Christmas, and one must have a gift for each.
Long after the war they kept it up, and I used to have a hamper of
little gifts all wrapped to pitch out of the door as I heard each voice.
Now I had only Chloe, Dab, Betty, Bonaparte, and Gibbie to provide
for. I put up little packages for old Katie and all the old darkies who
come to the yard to wish us Merry Christmas and bring an egg or two and
receive their Christmas.
This is a survival of the past, when every negro on the plantation came
soon after daylight Christmas morning, to give their good wishes and
to receive substantial gifts themselves. They always had three days of
entire holiday, during which they amused themselves, always ending the
day by two hours' dancing on the piazza of the "big house" to the music
of fiddle, tambourine, bones, drum, and sticks. My father sent off young
lads to learn to play the violin every year, so that there were always
one or two capable of leading.
The way in which they mark time with the sticks has always been a wonder
to me. They beat them in syncopated time, the accent always being on
the second beat. I have tried in vain to get the motion, and yet very
little children do it in perfect time.
I drove to church thinking of all the nice things I would like to be
carrying to my friends in the dear little settlement who all sent me
some charming token of affection and goodwill. Only three or four
assembled and the holly filled font was the only sign of the great
festival. Our organist was not there, so that I knew I would have to
"raise" the hymn—that means stand up in your pew and sing it without
accompaniment.
What was my dismay when "Shout the Glad Tidings, Exultingly Sing," was
given out. There is but one tune that I ever heard to it, and that is
most elaborate. However, it is the forlorn hope that rouses and appeals
to me. I rose to my feet and the occasion, and the glad tidings were
shouted most enthusiastically by one feeble voice. Only at the chorus
Miss Pandora gave the support of her voice. It is pleasant to remember
that the Good Maker of all, does not have to listen; he looks within
and sees the spirit which impels those inadequate sounds.
I came away from the simple service in high spirits, all my depression
and discouragement floated upward in the quavering shouts of glad
tidings.
December 26.
Rode out to the post-office on horseback and enjoyed it immensely. Got
a charming book there. I have had so many dear little presents, the most
valuable being a pair of driving gloves, which have delighted me
December 27.
Started to church this morning with Ruth in the buckboard and found her
dead lame! Had to turn and have Dab get Romola out of the field and put
her in.
I am worried because the stable door is off its hinges, and it is
strange Gibbie should not have reported it yesterday, for Bonaparte
could have fixed it in five minutes. I used Ruth Friday and she was
quite well. I fear she has been ridden at night and put her foot in a
hole.
December 28.
J. and L. came Sunday evening and spent the night. Yesterday morning L.,
who has made quite a specialty of animal diseases, examined Ruth's leg
and foot. He said it was the hock, and he only hoped it might not prove
spavin—said it must be bathed twice a day with hot mullein tea and then
rubbed dry.
I begged him to tell Gibbie exactly what to do and how to do it, as it
would impress him more, coming from him. So he gave him most careful
instructions about it. This morning at ten, when I was rushing with some
letters to catch the mail at the avenue gate, I saw Ruth standing near
the back door with the long strong reins, which Jim made to drive the
colt, wrapped 'round and 'round a walnut tree. I was so provoked that
I forgot the mail and addressed Gibbie, who was rubbing Ruth's leg and
asked why he had put the head-stall and reins which had been made for
the colt on Ruth. He answered:—
"Jus' so. I had dem on Alcyone driving about in. W'en I stop I put 'em
on Root."
"Where is Ruth's halter?" I supposed something had happened to it, but
not at all; it was in the stable.
As I saw the large pool of water on the ground and Ruth's leg rubbed
quite dry I grew milder in my words and simply sent him to get the
halter and put it on. Then I went on with the letters. As I came back
I went into the pantry where the breakfast things were not yet washed.
Again I exploded.
"Why were the cups and silver not yet washed?"
"Gibbie cum een en say he had o'ders to git all de hot water fer Root
fut, so 'e hemp both kittle, en we had to put on water fresh f'r we, en
it ain't hot 'nuff yet."
I simply had to leave without saying a word.
[Illustration:"Patty en Dab en me bin a eat."]
Later Chloe sought me when I had just settled myself at my desk to
write, and said:—
"Miss Pashuns, all dat hot water Gibbie tek out de two kittle out de
kitchen, 'e neber put a drop on Root fut!"
"My, Chloe! what did he do with it, then?"
"'E po' um right out down on de group' long side a Root een a puddle,
en 'e neber so much as tech Root fut wid a wet clot'. 'E rub um wid a
dry rag."
I cast my mind back and remembered how very dry Ruth's leg was, and
how pleased I was that Gibbie should have rubbed her so well; but still
I could scarcely believe that he had poured all that hot water on the
ground. While I was considering, Chloe went on:—
"'Tain't me one see um. Patty en Dab en me all bin a eat we break-us en
we set down right dey, en luk at Gibbie when 'e pou' out de watah 'pun
de groun'."
What a farce to try to have anything done at all! I did not say a word
to Gibbie about this. He would simply swear it was not so and there
would be a state of warfare in the yard.
I sent for him that afternoon and told him to fill a big pot in the yard
with water, get some mullein leaves and put in it, make a fire under
the pot the first thing in the morning, and after cleaning his horses
to bring Ruth out and let me know, as I wished to bathe her myself.
CHEROKEE, December 29.
Jim is not coming back; his month with me is up, and he has work in
Gregory. Now the question is either to give up all the progress which
has been made in Marietta's training or to drive her myself.
I have always been afraid of a skeleton road cart, and I confess I dread
driving in one. I asked Jim before he went one day if he could not try
her in the old buckboard, which is very light. He said by no means, that
she wheeled square round at any new thing she saw, and would break the
shafts at once.
To-day I had Romola put in the road cart for me to try it, and drove
eight miles. The seat is just an unusually hard board, and I knew
that the least thing would make me pitch out. When I got back I called
Bonaparte and had him take off the board and put some strong wide pieces
of leather across and then tack a sheepskin on top, and I will try it
to-morrow.
Then I told him I wanted a small seat secured to the axle at the back
so that Gibbie could sit there. Bonaparte indicated that ordinarily he
found my plans intelligent, but that in this instance he failed to see
any sign of common sense. It was all in civil, even courtly, language,
but the meaning was plain. I was not daunted. I said:—
"I cannot go out alone with that colt. I must have Gibbie at hand, and
the only way to take him is to rig up such a seat, and I trust to your
cleverness and skill to do it."
I got a very strong chair of white oak and had him saw off the back.
"Now this is what I want you to use, and I want you to put it here," I
said. Then I left him.
December 30.
This morning when I went to look at the progress of the little shelf
behind the road cart, I found Bonaparte working with enthusiasm. The
idea had suddenly taken him, but Gibbie was looking on with a face
of woe, muttering steadily "risk my life—got wife and chillun—brek me
neck"-I could only hear a word here and there.
"Gibbie," I said, "how many times were you thrown out of the road cart
when Jim and you went with Marietta?"
"Only fo' time."
"Where did you sit?"
"Jim en me set on de seat; each one had a fut on de step so we could
jump quick."
"Did Jim jump out?"
"Jim jump out 'eself ebery time we meet buggy, dat colt wunt pass a
buggy, en de las' wud Jim say to me was, 'Fo' King sake Gib neber let
um meet a w'ite hoss, kase 'e'll bruk up eberyt'ing.'"
"Well," I said, "now you will be perfectly safe behind here, for when
anything happens you can step off without any trouble."
But Gibbie continued to grumble and mutter. As soon as the extraordinary
little perch was adjusted I made him put Romola in the cart and took him
behind for a six-mile drive. He nearly refused to go, but I kept my eye
on him, and we started.
We had not driven out of the front gate before I heard sounds of
satisfaction from behind—little grunts only at first, but at last he
burst into speech. "My law, Miss Pashuns, you hav a good idea w'en yu
fix dis seat! I too cumfutable! Jes' es easy es if I bin home een me
rockin' chai'. Dis' de t'ing fo' me." I was greatly relieved, for as
Gibbie has been going with Jim every day, with Marietta, it is important
he should go along with me. One change at a time is enough and I cannot
let him drive, because he has such a heavy hand, accustomed to handle
oxen, but I could not take him if he was afraid or unwilling.
I was equally delighted with my seat, for the sheepskin made all the
difference; one could sit home as on a saddle. I did not think the cart
balanced just as I wished, however, and when I got home I told Bonaparte
to get a heavy piece of iron from the old mill and fasten it where the
dash-board is in a buggy; this cart has none. He did this and I got in
and made Gibbie get behind while Bonaparte steadied the shafts and they
stood level without his holding them. Then I was satisfied. Everything
is ready now and to-morrow I will drive Marietta.
All the neighbors are making an outcry about it and my dear friend Miss
N. to-day said all that could possibly be said to deter me, but I cannot
see it as they do. My taxes are $100; they are due now. If nothing turns
up I must sell something to pay them. Last year I sold a colt for that
purpose. Now Marietta unbroken would not be salable, but broken she
would bring a good price.
It will be a heartbreaking business to part with her. She is exactly
like her mother and they would be a delightful pair, but I must try and
get her broken if I can. She has made good progress in a month, I think,
for she was not even halter broken the first of December.
December 31.
Started with Marietta at 12:25 to-day and drove eight miles, getting
back at 1:35. It was truly exciting, but she went wonderfully. All the
way to Peaceville we were so fortunate as not to meet a vehicle on the
road. Coming back a buggy turned into the narrow road ahead. I waved to
the man to turn back, but he did not understand, for I would not speak
to let Marietta know I was telling him to go back; but as soon as she
saw him she made herself immense, and began to trumpet like an elephant,
standing stock still.
The man needed no suggestion after seeing and hearing her, and rapidly
got out and lifted his buggy around and fled into another road. After a
while she quieted down and we went on. It is a great pity to have such
a road; it is barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass and there is
a deep ditch on each side.
We had gone about a quarter of a mile after this and she had steadied
into a quiet trot, when two dogs, one white and one black, dashed from
a house about 500 yards from the road, and rushed toward us, barking
furiously. This was too much. She started at a full run and all my
effort was directed to keeping her in the road, for those deep ditches
so near on each side were a terror.
I talked to her as I put out my whole strength on the reins. I felt I
could not stand it much longer, my arms were giving way and I wondered
whether Gibbie was thrown off and what would be the end, when she
slacked her speed and finally came down into a trot. Then I called to
Gibbie.
He is stone deaf, which makes a difficulty, and I was too shaken and
stiff to be able to turn around to look; but when at last he heard
he answered with cheerful equanimity. Having once given me his faith,
Gibbie did not appear to have the least anxiety.
My heart was filled with thanksgiving as I stepped down from the funny
little cart at the stable door, Marietta dripping with sweat and blood
streaming from each side of her mouth, but turning around to see what I
had for her with a look of affection. I always gave Ruth a lump of sugar
when she had been good, but this poor dear little hard times thing won't
take sugar nor apple nor carrot—no, nothing but an ear of corn will she
take.
This is the last night of the old year. For the first time since the
tragedy I felt myself drawn to the piano, and I played Chopin's funeral
march over and over, with its wonderful wail of sorrow, and then
Beethoven's funeral march on the death of a hero. Such a contrast! No
wail here. Rather "Gloria Victor":—
O Death, where is thy sting?
O Grave, where thy victory?
The old year is dead. God grant us grace in the new.