September 8.
Rose at five and read the lessons on the piazza and then churned.
There is certainly a wonderful freshness and life in the early morning
air, a kind of inspiration in watching the birth of a new day. I get
terribly hungry, however, before I can get any breakfast. This morning
a delightful waiter arrived. It had shrimps and flounders fresh from
the sea and great yellow pears with one red cheek.
I did not go to the plantation, so had a day off and enjoyed it
thoroughly. I have a most delightful book which I have been pining to
read, but had to resist until to-day. It is the life of Alice Freeman
Palmer, and no words can express the refreshment and uplift it has given
me.
I wish I could give the book to every young woman in whom I am
interested.
September 9.
A brilliant morning. I tried to get to church in time and succeeded.
All the invalids out, which was such a comfort. Our rector gave us a
very good sermon on prayer. There was a terrible mix-up in the choir
in the "Gloria in Excelsis." I sang one, while Miss Penelope played
another! The results were truly heartrending, which was a pity. Still,
the intentions were good, and we were both so in earnest, that we could
not stop, apparently. The worse the sounds were the more we persevered.
September 10.
Every effort that I have made to induce the men to pay their rent has
been vain. Last evening as I was coming back from Casa Bianca late
in the afternoon, feeling very discouraged, I saw Green ahead of me
carrying a pair of wild ducks and a string of coots. He was going toward
Peaceville and I had a moment of satisfaction, for I thought he was
taking them to me to pay on his rent. So as I came up with him I said
in a cheery voice:—
"My, Green, I am so glad you are bringing me those ducks and coots. I
have only eaten one coot this year."
Always civil, Green answered in his softest voice: "No, ma'am, dese
don't b'longs to me; dey b'longs to dat gent'man ahaid," pointing to a
negro man who was walking about five hundred yards ahead.
I could say nothing. I knew it was not so. I knew they were Green's,
shot on my place, and if he had given them to me it would have reduced
his debt from $9 to $7.50, and though I specially needed money I was
willing to take anything to help him make a start.
September 11.
Yesterday Cable came to see me. I have been sending after him for some
time, but couldn't catch sight of him. After a few polite inquiries as
to health he said he heard I wanted to see him.
"Yes," I said, "I have sent for you many times, I want you to cut some
wood for me."
"On what 'rangment, Miss?"
"For half," I answered, "and I will furnish the flat without charge."
He said he could not cut wood for that—it was too little, $1.25 a cord
did not pay him for his time. After some little talk I found that it
was a waste of time to try to get the wood cut, so I said:—
"You have not done a stroke of work for me since April 9, when you
helped fill the boiler; you have your house rent free, all of the fire
wood you wish to use, and two acres of fine land around your house on
which you have a very good crop of corn; and yet you have never been
willing during these four months to do anything for me. You owe $9 for
the steer you got and begged me to give you time to pay. You have had
it eighteen months and made money by its work but never have offered
one quarter of a dollar on it.
"Then in January you came in great distress about your wheel, said you
had given it to a man to mend and that he charged $2 and that you were
not willing to pay it when you had the money, and now that he had sent
you word that he was going to sell the wheel unless you paid at once,
and begged me to lend you the $2 and you would return it soon or at any
rate work it out. But you have never paid a cent of it. In March when I
paid you $7.85 for cutting wood and reminded you of your debt, asking
you to pay something on it, you pleaded with me not to take anything
then, you had a particular use for the money, and believing you, I
consented. You say you have been getting one dollar a day where you have
been working, and surely you could have made an effort to pay something
on your debt.
"Now I want you to work for me; as you will not cut wood, go down to
the plantation at once and tell Bonaparte I have sent you to drive the
mowing machine. Jim will not be there until one or two o'clock and I
want the hay cut this morning. Cut one bed, it will not take long, and
then help Jim haul in what he has raked up. Go as quickly as you can,
for I must get as much done as possible, the clouds are gathering."
He acquiesced at once and I told him I wanted him to run the mowing
machine all this week; it was then about ten o'clock. In the afternoon
I drove down and found Cable had just turned up at four o'clock; when
I asked him about it he said, "Yes, ma'am, I won't tell no story about
it. I did stop on the way," and that was all. Of course the hay was
not cut and only two loads were hauled in, and last night there came
a tremendous rain wetting it all so that all windrows had to be opened
and spread out again, and to-day Cable did not come to work, and I have
no possible redress or power over him. Of course every one will say I
was foolish to trust him in the first instance; but I am made that way
and I cannot unmake myself; if any one living near me appeals to me in
distress, if I have the money at hand, I will lend to them, and time
and time again I am deceived and disappointed. I said to him:—
"Neither of your grandfathers would have acted as you have done. Daddy
James was an honest man and never tried to shirk a debt, but you,
though you are free and have schooling and all the help that a good,
industrious wife can give in your life, are not ashamed to act so."
I am more hurt than I can express by his not coming back to work. Jim
has worked tremendously to try and save the hay, and now all that is
standing should be cut, or it will be hard and worthless. While there is
so much down that has to be dried and handled, another man is absolutely
necessary.
September 12.
About 9 o'clock Chloe came in great distress to say she had just heard
her Uncle Mose was dead. Chloe was greatly upset at the news.
September 13.
A real autumn morning. The first let-up to the heat. I thought in the
night we were going to have another storm. I prayed hard against it, for
my pea-vine hay would be ruined. This morning the east wind is high but
it looks brighter.
Chloe's getting off to old Mose's funeral occupied the whole morning
to the exclusion of everything else. Goliah drove her in the buckboard
with Ruth.
I have the cotton which has been picked spread out on the piazza to dry
thoroughly. After Chloe got off I sat on a stool beside it and picked
out the cotton, which was greatly damaged by the wet. The cotton was
just ready to open when the storm came. It was arrested and kept in
the close little case soaking wet, and then nature was busy and little
sprouts came and went on growing as though they were in their proper
element.
I took out a little pinkish tight wad and opening it carefully there,
folded up in the middle, I found a little green leaf. Of course these
would injure the quality of the cotton, yet it was impossible to have
them kept separate in the picking, so I pick them out when it is spread
out in the sun.
While I was doing this Jim came to get orders and I had him pick a
while. I commented on Goliah's delight and excitement over a death and
funeral. He had been so sick and miserable yesterday that he went home
about 4 o'clock, but being sent to tell Chloe the news he came to the
yard and then took her out to the street and escorted her back here
again about half past ten. He was eager to go to the "settin' up," six
miles up the road, but could find no one willing to walk up there with
him. I said:—
"I do not think there is anything in which the races differ more
entirely than in their attitude to death. No white child wishes to have
anything to do with death; they fly from the signs and tokens of it,
whereas the children of the African race seem to be attracted by it."
Jim answered: "What you say must be true, Miss Pennington, for nothin'
gives me more pleasure than to handle the dead. I just delights in it
an' I have great luck in it, too; scarcely a person dies but what I have
the privilege of jumping down in the grave and receiving the body an'
makin' it comfortable in there."
I was quite startled. He went on:—
"W'en I cum frum town an' fin' that they'd buried Georgie without my
bein' there to handle her I was that disappointed I couldn't scarcely
stand it."
He had gone to town before Georgie died one afternoon and she was buried
the next before he came back. It is curious to see racial peculiarities
continue from generation to generation. There is no repulsion to or
fear of death among negroes as long as the clay is visible, but as soon
as the funeral is over and the grave is left, then terror begins. Jim
himself does not like to walk down the front avenue alone at night,
because it is so near the beautiful spot where those of his race who
have died here, have been buried for over a hundred years. And still
they come. It does not matter if they have died elsewhere if they are
prosperous, and even if it is a mighty effort they beg to be brought
"home" and laid by their people. As my father owned 600 when the war
ended, it makes a number of funerals, for all the descendants of those
want to be laid here. There is something very touching about it to me.
I am very anxious to put a wire fence around the spot. I think it must
be nearly two acres, and I do not like the animals to have the run of
it. Two or three years ago I told the people that if each family would
contribute something toward the wire I would put up the fence, giving
the cedar posts, and the expense of putting it up. A number brought a
quarter each, so that I have $4 toward the wire. Things have been so
with me for several years that I cannot make up the sum lacking, so the
fence must wait a while longer.
September 15.
My poor, dear Chloe was so excited after old Mose's funeral that she
came last night and stood talking until eleven. I was frantic to finish
a horrible French play I was reading—it is in five acts, and I am so
tired of its wickedness, and I cannot finish it. When I saw she had
started on a regular talk I got my sewing and did a lot of work—put the
whole frill I have scalloped on to the skirt.
She said the funeral had been grand. Michael had spoken beautifully
about "Uncle Mose" and given him such a character; said that white and
black respected him and were kind to him, and when he had said all that
you would think could be said, Harris had taken it up and praised him
more.
"En, Miss Pashuns, dem call yo' name too. Bre' Harris say, en de chile
of his ole Marster thought dat mutch ob Bre' Mose dat she sen' fo' tell
um say she was gwine to give him, a oxen for him to put in a little cart
to drive out wid."
Moses had sold his fine pair of oxen some few years back. With the price
of one he paid for having a cataract removed from his eyes, and the rest
of the money he asked me to keep for him, and it lasted him four years,
I think. He would send his grandson, a little boy, down with a note to
ask me to send one, or five dollars, as the case might be. Chloe went
back to the time about twenty years ago when he planted rice here, when
he had always from $300 to $400 in the bank; but his health failed and
he had to move away from the plantation to the pineland because the
"tissic" was not so bad in the pineland as on the river. It was very
touching to hear all she had to say. She wound up by saying why she was
so glad that the minister was absent, for she said:—
"Dis preecher don' keer fu' nuthin' but money—dey ain't no money un a
funeral, en he jes' hurry thro' en don' hav' no proper preechin', neider
talkin' nor singin', let lone prayin', en, Miss Pashuns, he's a black
man too, en dat mek it wuss."
"Why," I asked, "does that make it worse?"
"Bekase eberybody kno' mulatta lub money, en dey look fu' dat, but w'en
yu see a daa'k complected man, same color 'bout as me, yu don't look
fu' dat, kase dat cola' don' lub money like dat."
That was news to me. I did not know that what she called "light-skinned"
people were more avaricious than black. I was disposed to argue on the
subject, but Chloe was emphatic.
"Nigger get dem fault, 'tis true, but dem don't wushop money." With this
high praise for her own special color she said good night.
Jim and Joe Keith have had a tremendous day's work bringing in the hay.
The ox wagon has a very long, high rack body, and that was packed just
as tight as it could be ten times.
My dear little Scottie dog came and sat very close to me to-day and
looked at me with very sad eyes and dribbling badly from the mouth. I
am too distressed because that is the way my former little terrier dog's
last illness began.
Went to Cherokee, taking Chloe, for I was to have the peanut crop
harvested and I felt I needed all the eyes possible. Goliah worked
finely and it was a successful day. The peanuts turned out so well I
had to send for two extra hands to get them all in.
I would feel very proud of the yield if there were not so many "pops"
in them. Hypocrites they are. They look perfectly solid and plausible
and when you break the shell there is nothing in it. I should have used
more lime in the land.
Walked down early into the cotton-field, and found it full of tracks of
bare feet, so many different ones that I think every one on the place
had been out stealing cotton. Jim was away to-day, so they had no fear
of being caught. There is no one else who would tell me if he saw them
there. I have felt sure this was going on because I have watched the
cotton and know that from day to day it disappears. There is no hope of
making anything.
At a store near-by they buy seed cotton in any quantity, paying 3½ cents
a pound. Little Jim-Willin', who can pick twenty pounds in a day, can
go and sell that amount for 70 cents, and no questions asked. If they
pick every morning during the two hours they know Jim is milking and
attending to the horses, they can get all the cotton as fast as it comes
out. I have wondered because it opened so slowly that I can only pick
once a week.
To-night little MacDuff seems very sick. At 9 I get Chloe to go out with
me and I put him in the little wire enclosure so that the other dogs
cannot worry him; gave him milk, of which he drank a very little, and
put a big pan of water for him.
September 16.
This morning when I went to see MacDuff I took him some griddle cakes,
which he prefers to anything else. He tried to eat and had a dreadful
convulsion. I sent Jim for hot water and bathed him. Then he seemed much
better, walked to the fresh water I had brought, and drank heartily.
Then he went and tried to eat, but the same thing came on, only not so
severe. He has a sore place on the side of his mouth and also on his
tail. The flies worry him so I have rigged up a little mosquito net for
him.
Dear little Duff much the same. He would not take the milk I brought
him nor eat, but he dipped his nose deep into the basin of water very
often. I think his jaws are locked, and so he cannot lap with his tongue
as dogs generally do, but he can draw in water through the sides, when
he buries his whole mouth in the water. It is distressing, to see him
suffer. I do not think he is in pain, but he must die if he can neither
eat nor drink. I had to try to force his mouth open and pour some milk
down, but I saw it hurt him and it did no good. His gums seem very sore
and inflamed.
To-night I finished reading "Queed," a most delightful novel, that
leaves a good taste in your mouth, which is more than can be said of
many.
September 17.
Found my dear little dog dead, when I went out to him this morning, my
little silent partner. I will miss him sorely. I thought it best to bury
him at once on account of the other dogs, though I was sorry to do it
without Jim, who has been so good to him.
Goliah felt most important in having to dig the grave, which was
hard work, for I wanted it very deep. It took him a long time. Chloe,
Lizette, and I, all assisted. About eighteen inches below this sandy
soil is a thick stratum of very stiff clay.
I had some trouble to find a suitable box, but did find one, and then
I put him in myself and put his ivory back brush in with him and his
mosquito net, then covered him with the soft gray moss and closed the
box and lowered it into the grave with ropes. Had Don and Prince in
leash looking on. When we had finished filling in the earth, I said a
little prayer asking the help of the Good Father to be as faithful to
my duty as this little dumb beast had been to his.
I always remember that seventh verse of the thirty-sixth psalm of David,
which comes in the Psalter for the seventh day, morning prayer, "Thou,
Lord, shalt save both man and beast; how excellent is thy mercy, O
Lord." We cannot fathom the mercy of the Infinite One.
Just as I finished Jim came and was quite shocked and distressed. We had
thought MacDuff much better when he left yesterday. He said I ought to
have waited for him. Chloe, Lizette, and Goliah had made quite a tall
mound of clay over him and Jim begged me to let him take it down and
rearrange it. Chloe said:—
"I tell Miss Pashuns 'tain't de fashion to hab a high grabe, but him
say mus' put all de clay on."
I had scattered white clover seed over the mound, but I let Jim do what
he wished and he spent some time over it; made a neat little mound the
shape of a casket, then planted clover over it, and got some plants of
petunia I had in a box, and planted them there. At the same time he made
up little Zero's grave, which had got quite flat, and planted flowers
and clover there.
I made the others rake up all the leaves and trash and burned it. I was
afraid the other dogs might catch the disease, whatever it was—spinal
meningitis or lockjaw, I think. This ends the chapter of one faithful
little unit who did his best always.
PEACEVILLE, Monday, September 18, 8 A.M., 1906.
It has been blowing a gale all night and the mercury has fallen nearly
to fifty and I am looking into my trunks to find something thick to
put on. Yesterday was a perfect autumn day but with just a little
something in the air that suggested a storm and made me name Mosell's
splendid new calf Equinox, and to-day there is no chance of having any
kind of work done, for though the wind is so high the rain is falling
steadily. 11 A.M., the storm is raging and as usual I am greatly excited
and exhilarated by it. The voice of the Great Creator seems to be so
distinct in the storm; "The floods clap their hands and the waves rage
horribly, but the Lord is mightier."
Four large pine trees have fallen in front of the house, and it shakes
every now and then as though it must fall. Minty is terrified, but Chloe
stands firm, trying to quiet Minty's fright. I sought out a sheltered
corner of the piazza and told her to take her work-basket and go on
with her darning, as I know occupation is a great soother to the nerves;
she seemed much calmer and I went in to follow my own prescription and
write, when she came rushing in crying aloud, the immense Water Oak just
at the north of the house had fallen, and taken off the corner of the
shed. Most fortunately the wind was west of north; the whole house would
have been crushed if it had been due north. Even Chloe seemed a little
upset at this, so I called them into the sitting room and standing I
read the 93d Psalm and then we knelt for a short but earnest prayer and
then I said, "Now that we have put ourselves into God's keeping, we need
have no fear." The effect was wonderful; Minty did not give way to her
terror any more.
2 P.M.
Standing in the piazza it is a strange sight; huge pines falling on
all sides; the roar of the wind is so great that one does not hear the
falling of the trees. Many are snapped off halfway up as though they
were splinters, while others are rooted up, the huge mass of roots
standing up ten feet in the air.
The wind is moving round slowly from N.W. to N.E.; if it gets due east
blowing at its present rate this house must fall; for there are two
defective sills and four blocks, and if the wind ever gets under the
huge shed of the piazza to the east and south, it would lift the whole
house from the underpinnings. I have told Chloe she must boil some rice
on the kerosene heater in the dining room, as it would be dangerous to
attempt a fire in the kitchen, and every one is exhausted. If we are to
have the house fall over us it is better to be in condition to stand
it. Chloe is most reluctant to obey me, she seems to think it will be
a disrespect somehow to the storm, but we do not know how long it may
last, so I insisted.
Rab has just come in, the wind having lulled a little. I have been very
anxious about him as I sent him before the wind became so terrible to
Miss Penelope's to get some groceries and ask for a receipt for pepper
pickle. He tells me Miss Penelope's house has been destroyed and the
ladies had all run out into the storm just escaping with their lives
from the falling bricks and rafters. My impulse was to go at once and
bring them up here to stay with me; so I started out, and climbed over
the great pine which had fallen across the road inside the gate; and
when I got on to the public road I found a solid barricade of huge
pines across it as far as I could see. I climbed over ten and then felt
so exhausted that I knew it would be folly to go on. When I got back
Chloe brought me some deliciously cooked rice and a smoked herring,
and it seemed to me the nicest thing in the world, though it was a
strange thing for her to choose. I suppose she had overheard me talking
to some one of the government experiments as to the strength of the
different foods, and how they had found salt fish a most nutritious and
strength-giving diet; it certainly proved its stimulating qualities on
this occasion.
I felt quite refreshed and, as Rab said he could show me a way to go
around the trees, I started out again, this time under his guidance.
After much climbing I got into the W's yard; the number of prostrate
trees was amazing and such beauties. As I passed the Rily house I saw
it was a complete ruin; a part of the roof had been blown away about
300 yards.
I found the W's in a little one room cottage which fortunately was
on the lot; they were soaking wet, but were so happy to be alive and
together that nothing seemed to depress them, though the house is
a complete wreck and in such a tottering condition that nothing can
be got out. I begged them to come home with me, but they said it was
impossible for them to leave, and by the time I had climbed over all the
barricading trees and got back into my tottering house, I came to the
conclusion that they were wise. They were going to sit up all night in
the cottage.
Friday, September 19.
I went to bed and slept soundly last night. I find very few people went
to bed at all, as the wind continued blowing heavily all night; but this
morning it has lulled and there is a drizzling rain and dull gray sky.
I sent Jim to Gregory Saturday to remain there and bring R. up, as he
had written me he would be there Monday. So there was no one at Cherokee
but Bonaparte and I knew he must be almost frantic there alone, and as I
could hear nothing of what had happened there I thought it was my duty
to make an effort to get down to the plantation. So I had Rab put the
side-saddle on Ruth this morning and started off, taking Rab along on
foot; for though he is very small, he is so brave and intelligent that
I knew he would be a great help. He was delighted to go and very proud
of the position of escort.
By great meandering around the tops of trees, and jumping others,
through people's yards I made my way to the post-office. There I met
Mr. B. and Mr. F. who said it was madness to attempt to go down to
the plantation on horseback. I said I would tie my horse there and
try it on foot; but at that they both agreed it was better for me, if
I insisted on going, to ride as far as I could, and then tie my horse
and proceed on foot. The road goes two miles due east and then makes a
sharp turn and continues two miles due south. About a hundred yards out
of the village Mr. R. appeared, looking haggard and weary; he said the
storm had been terrific at his place, he had had nothing to eat since
yesterday morning, and that the road was absolutely impassable; he had
made his way through the woods and it had taken him hours; but he told
me there was no hope of getting along the road as the deep ditch on
each side and the trees across it made it impossible. I took his advice
and struck into the woods, greatly against Rab's judgment, and Ruth
fought every step of the way. My hope was to make the other side of the
triangle by going in a southeasterly direction, but there was no sign
of the whereabouts of the sun and so nothing but instinct to go by. Rab
rolled up his little pants as high as he could, the continuous rains
having made the woods in many places more than knee-deep in slush and
water.
When he reached any specially difficult spot, he would fly ahead and
from his vantage ground call to the recalcitrant Ruth, "Cum on, Root,
look a' me, I git ober en I sure yu'se bigger den me"; and the mare,
who is far too human, and had taken her key-note from my pessimistic
advisers at the P.O., would seem greatly encouraged by Rab's optimism.
It seemed to me a perfect miracle when we finally emerged from the
woods, just where I had hoped to strike the road, on Cherokee soil.
At the gate, standing looking distractedly up the road, I came upon
Bonaparte; he looked gaunt and wild, and as soon as he saw me he called
out, "Teng God! I look, en I look, en I look, en you ain't come."
"Well," I said, "you may be thankful to see me now, for I have gone
through great perils getting here."
The faithful old man walked beside my horse, and told of the terrors
of yesterday, how he watched his chance to go from the barn-yard to
the house and back again, for trees and rafters and beams were flying
in every direction; and how he managed to get the five horses and two
colts into the cow stable, and how no sooner had he done it than the
horse stable fell, the roof blowing away a hundred yards, and then when
he saw the cow stable shake he tried to get them out, but they would
not come out, and just then he heard a great noise and behold the big
two-story barn packed with hay had fallen and crushed Jackson (an ox)
and mashed up all the wagons and other farm vehicles and implements in
the shed alongside. And then the shed to the engine room went, and then
the screw, for carrying the rice from the thrashing mill to the shipping
barn on the river, went. It really was thrilling to hear the old man's
graphic narrative, and how he and all the animals escaped, was a wonder.
He led me round through the fields and over ditches, for there were five
huge live oaks down on the avenue, some directly across. When I reached
the barn-yard I jumped down and turned Ruth loose with the saddle and
bridle on her, as I can always catch her and I wanted to walk over the
whole scene of destruction with Bonaparte. Every fence was down and
the sheep, hogs, cows, and horses were eating up the corn, peas, and
potatoes over which we had labored so. We went on to the cotton-field
which I had seen on Saturday white with a splendid growth of cotton.
I planted a long staple cotton which grew as tall as I am and branched
so well that Jim could not give it the last plowing it should have had,
because the branches met in the rows. I had it picked twice when some
bolls were out, but I was advised to wait until the whole field was out,
as the hands picked more and the cotton was better quality; so I waited
and the picking was to have begun yesterday. Saturday it looked like
a field of snow. Now there was no vestige of white, the stalks all lay
prostrate, and the cotton beaten into the earth. It is a terrible blow,
as I had counted on this for my money crop.
Before catching Ruth I went to the dairy, skimmed the cream, and put it
into a preserve jar and determined to try to take it with me. Hearing me
lament over my inability to take the milk with me too, for I have been
sending milk regularly to several friends in the village who had none,
and I knew they would miss it, Rab said, "I most think I kin carry de
milk."
"No, Rab," I said, "not four quart bottles. If we had it in a demijohn
I could put it in a sack and you could take it on your shoulder, but
not four bottles, they would break."
"Le' me try, Miss Pashuns, I kno' I kin do um."
Of course I was delighted to let Rab try, for if he failed, it would be
only the loss of the milk.
There was no horse feed at the pineland, so I told Bonaparte to put half
a bushel of corn in a sack with the cream jar and a small quantity in
one end and the rest of the corn in the other end to balance, I threw
it across the back of my horse and tied it securely to the saddle and
we started. I heard Rab say, "Root, yu try for roll but yu couldn't
mek um," and I saw that one side of the saddle and bridle was muddy.
Fortunately she had tried to roll on the right side, so the pommels were
not broken. Our homeward journey seemed to me worse than the morning's.
Perhaps I was only tired and discouraged at the wide-spread destruction;
but we struck a denser growth and did not find the ridge we had followed
in the morning. Then we had gone round the two swamps in a wonderful
way, now we had to cross both, and the fear of getting caught in those
woods by the night made it worse; however, just as the dusk was falling
we struck into the road near the village about 300 yards from the point
at which we had left it in the morning, and now I was able to trust Ruth
to pick her way round and over the trees as we had come that way in the
morning.
As I rode up to the house my heart was gladdened by the sight of R.
running down the steps to meet me. It was such a relief that I nearly
fainted and he had to lift me down from my horse. He had left Gregory
with Jim at 7 o'clock this morning in the buckboard much against every
one's advice. But he thought by taking axes to cut the trees out of
the road there would be no difficulty. They cut, and cut, and took the
horse from the buggy which they lifted over many, many trees; but at
last they left the buckboard in the woods. R. led Nan and Jim took the
big umbrella (which I had just bought) and swung the two valises on that
over his shoulder and they climbed home, having just reached the house
when I came.
R. said he was just going to start to look for me, he was so shocked to
hear that I had gone to the plantation. It was too delightful to have
R. with me safe and sound and to have all the dangers and fatigues of
the day past, and to know that for the next two weeks I need not cudgel
my poor brain as to what should be done, for he has excellent judgment
and will direct the work of restoration much better than I could.
Only one thing I must do myself, I must go to Casa Bianca and see the
destruction there and hearten Nat up a bit; of course all chance of rice
crop is gone there as well as at Cherokee.
Rab had the happiness of carrying around the milk which he had so
successfully brought out and telling of the dangers of our trip and of
his powers; and he was greatly praised and complimented on his feat.
Chloe had a delicious supper for us which we certainly enjoyed, for
neither of us had tasted anything since morning.
September 20.
Drove down to Casa Bianca to find a scene of great desolation in the
Negro street or quarters.
Three houses have been blown down but no one was hurt, not even any
animal injured. The barn is also down and the trees around the house
badly torn, but the dear old house is not hurt in the least, which is a
perfect wonder. I love every old board and shingle in that house and I
expected to see it knocked flat, with all my dear old furniture crushed,
but positively there was not a pane of glass broken or a shingle off,
and the great Olea fragrans which grows as tall as the roof was in full
bloom, not a branch broken, making the air painfully sweet. It made me
very happy and then the childlike faith of the nigs has a soothing,
cheering effect. When I asked Nat about the rice, he pointed to the
place where the rice-fields should be, which looked like a great lake,
no banks being visible. "All gone, Miss; me en Jonas jis done cut de
rice and de sto'm come en carry um right out to sea."
When I condoled with him he answered joyfully, "Miss, I too tenkful
I see de sun myself, en me chillun, en me wife, fu' fret 'bout rice.
Ebrybody stan' same fashun."
That is the great consolation, it is nothing personal and special, every
one shares in the disaster, and to them it makes it easy to bear. For
myself it does not help me, it only makes it harder, the loss is so
widespread and complete. I fear the storm drops a dramatic, I may say
tragic, curtain on my career as a rice planter.
[Illustration: The rice-fields looked like a great lake.]
CHEROKEE, September 23.
I did not go to Peaceville to church this morning, C. having written me
that the dean would hold service at St. Peter's-in-the-Woods at four,
that he would drive him there and that they would come back with me and
spend the night. So I prepared a nice dinner of wild duck and broiled
chicken for them and took my own frugal little lunch at 2 o'clock and
drove out to the church.
The day was very hot but beautiful. Jim did not go to town last evening,
but stayed to drive me out in wagon with Ruth and Marietta. I always
enjoy driving behind this pair of mother and daughter. Marietta dances
along gayly and Ruth tries her very best not to let her daughter outdo
her.
The little church was crowded with the simple, pathetic congregation.
Louise Moore looked sweet in her black dress, her face so sad, for it
is just two months since she lost her beautiful seven-year-old boy. She
held up with pride her new baby, which she tightly clasped in her arms.
So it is with them always: "Le roi est mort; vive le roi." But I know
this new baby can never be as clever and good a child as the little
Charley was.
The dean read the gospel for the day, the fifteenth Sunday after
Trinity, beginning "No man can serve two masters." He shut the book and
spoke quietly and beautifully on what makes a Christian. Is it baptism?
No. Going to church? No. And so on, and then he explained what it was;
to follow in the footsteps left by the Saviour; to be kind, gentle,
thoughtful to others, helpful in word and deed, unselfish, self-denying,
and to be guided by counsel from above, asked for daily, hourly, in what
we call prayer. Then he explained how one can pray in the midst of work
and turmoil; the heart needs no ceremony to ask the help of the Heavenly
Father. There are no doorkeepers or guards at the gates. There the
humblest kind of prayer, the silent aspiration, "Lord, be merciful to
me a sinner," goes straight, unimpeded, to the throne of grace. Then he
dwelt on God's special care for each of His children and His knowledge
of their weaknesses and temptations and needs.
It was a joy to me to see Solomon's great round eyes fixed eagerly on
the speaker, looking for something which his simple mind could grasp and
hold. He was asking bread, and I was so thankful that he was not getting
a stone. Col. Ben fixed his wistful eyes with their long lashes, the
only spark of beauty about his very freckled face, on the preacher and
never seemed even to wink. A very stout man in his shirt sleeves whom I
did not recognize as one of the regular congregation (the men are all so
thin and tall), looked as though he was forced to listen and understand
against his will.
C. and the dean were not able to come home with me to spend the night,
to my great regret. They found at the last moment that it would be
necessary to return to Gregory this evening.
Monday.
I sat and sewed, not feeling up to much exertion. I finished the gray
muslin frock and it is sweet. Then I darned stockings. If anything can
make you more conceited than darning stockings I don't know what it is
unless it be early rising. I think if by great and sustained effort I
ever became an early riser I would become insufferable. All my life that
has been my greatest ambition, but I never succeed in rising early for
more than a few weeks at a time under pressure.
September 25.
Danton was to be married this evening and specially invited Chloe, and
I saw she wanted to go, so I told her she must go, that it was only due
Danton, as a refused suitor for her hand, that she should attend the
wedding. She said she did think it would be a "good polish" on her part
to be present, but that she could not bear to leave me alone from early
in the afternoon until late at night. She said:—
"Dem say de weddin' gwine be at fo', but nigga fo' mean buckra seven!
Dem neber will reddy by fo'."
However, I insisted and persisted until she went. I kept Patty Ann
as long as I could by going to the barn-yard to measure the peas and
telling her she must take charge of the house and yard until I got back.
There were about twenty hands. Some wanted to pick for one-third of the
peas, some for money. It is very hard to divide peas evenly. I find the
easiest way is to weigh the peas and then divide the weight. It really
takes less time than any other way, for it is accurate and I can get
through weighing and dividing up 1500 pounds of peas among twenty hands
in no time.
When I got back from the barn I had to let Patty Ann go. Then I went
to see after Pocahontas, my beautiful young cow, who is ill. I gave
her a dose of aconite to-day and had Jim rub her with liniment. She is
strangely affected; her fore legs seem almost paralyzed and cross each
other when she walks, or rather steps, for she is afraid to walk more
than a dozen steps at a time; then down she goes.
Her countenance is bright, however, which makes me hopeful. It would
be a dreadful blow to lose her. R. L. A., who knows about cows, told
me not to take less than $65 for her in the spring before she had her
first calf. The calf is so fine I have named her Beauty.
I gave Pocahontas a large bundle of fresh cut grass and a bucket of
water, for Jim has gone to the wedding too. To my delight when I put
the grass down a little beyond her reach, giving her only one handful
to taste, she got up with great difficulty, resting some time on her
knees, swaying so that I thought she must keel over, but at last she
got to her feet and stood trembling for a little before she could make
the one step necessary to reach the grass. It seems to me she has had a
severe blow on her left shoulder and the left leg is almost paralyzed.
She puts all her weight on the right.
When I had got through my ministrations to her and came out of the
stable and started toward the house I was scared almost out of my
wits by a tall man standing at the gate. It took all my courage to
force myself forward instead of retreating rapidly to the shelter of
Pocahontas's stable. However, I went forward with a bold air to find a
variation of Don Quixote's windmill. I had been picking up walnuts as
my first amusement and got so warm that I took off my white flannel coat
and hung it on a tall post near the gate as I went out to see after the
cow, and had entirely forgotten it.
I laughed at myself, but feebly, for I have not had such a fright for
a long time. There is no human being within three-quarters of a mile of
me, and I have had trouble with a very bad man whose hog was in my corn
and peas, for a week before we found it out. I had Jim catch it and shut
it up and send word to the man that he must pay me $2 before he could
get it. That was not nearly the value of what he had destroyed, but I
thought it was all I could ask. He sent word he would not pay it, that
I could keep the hog and send him a dollar. It is a complete razor back
and I don't want it, but Jim seemed to think he would like it and told
me he would pay the dollar and take the hog.
I said, "Then where is my pay for the damage to the crop?" It seemed
very hard for him to see the justice of this.
In the meantime I am feeding the creature on my precious corn and the
owner is very angry.
I put up the walnuts I had picked, four dozen. The squirrels steal them
as well as people, so they have to be put in a close place to keep them.
When I went out first the sunset was wonderful. Exquisite rose-colored
clouds, layers upon layers of them, filled the heavens and the pure,
cold crescent moon emerged from their billowy depths with its bow of
hope. I stood and watched with much delight until, oh, sadness! the
rose-colored clouds turned to ashes of roses and I felt with a pang that
night was near.
When I came into the house at last it was quite dark and I had forgotten
to put the matches on the table near the door, so I had rather an
eventful progress, falling over chairs and stools to find them. I do not
like the dark and cannot walk straight in it. At last, however, I got
the matches and lighted the lamp and took my tea, which had been made
early but kept hot under a cosey.
After getting through to my surprise I found myself nervous. I do hope
my nerve is not going to fail me. It is the first time I have been
quite alone in the house and yard without MacDuff, my stanch little
watch-dog, and it makes a great difference. He used to sit right by me
and follow my every motion, and when he barked it meant something. Don
barks because he is chained and Prince barks because he is afraid of the
young moonlight, it is so mysterious. Their continual barking worries
me, for Chloe left both chicken coops unlocked and I cannot discriminate
between the bark that means something and the other.
I tried to read but did not succeed, so I took to the piano and worked
hard at Chopin's études. The "Revolutionary" étude requires plenty of
work and effort and concentration. Now it is 10 o'clock and I had to
stop for very weariness and am writing.
After going out into the yard several times to see if Prince was barking
at any reality, I brought him into the pantry, and in order to compose
his nerves I left the "Revolutionary" étude, which is so tempestuous,
and played the next, which is almost a lullaby, so soft and soothing is
it, and to my relief it had its effect, and Prince went to sleep.
Just now I heard Don give a real bark and went out to find the party had
returned, Chloe in high glee. I had sent by her to Danton as a wedding
present, a white waistcoat. The buttons had been taken out when it was
washed and had not been put back, and when I thought of the waistcoat
as a present, Chloe was all ready and I could not put the buttons in,
so I wrapped them up and put them in the pocket, wrapped the waistcoat
in a paper, with my good wishes on the paper, and gave it to Chloe.
She told me that they met the bridegroom on his way to the wedding with
his four attendants and she delivered the package. Danton opened it,
expressed great delight, took off his coat and put on the waistcoat,
and the groomsmen all assisted in putting in the buttons with the string
which tied the parcel, and the bridegroom was resplendent and the four
groomsmen were loud in applause. He folded the paper up and put it
carefully in his pocket and said, "I gwine to keep Miss Pashuns's good
will she write on dis paper."
Chloe says the wine flowed freely and the large company all had some,
and the six cakes were not all consumed. She is telling me every detail
of the gayety. Jim had the duty of handing round the wine, which Chloe
privately told me was very sour. But it was a "high class" affair, not
so much as a "cuss word," all pleasant and polite.
I am writing while she narrates, which will account for incoherence. She
stands with her hand on the knob of the door and every now and then my
hopes rise as she opens the door, but at once some new detail comes to
her mind and the door closes, the lantern is put down, and the wonderful
witticisms recommence.
The bride wore yellow satin with two skirts, a long veil put on with a
wreath of white flowers and looked "truly han'som, en I neber bin to a
freer weddin', Miss Pashuns, dan dis. Of coa's de cake was to dem tas'e,
not to yo'ne, but dem had a plenty o' dem, sum lef'."
At last Chloe has said good night. I'm going to bed to dream of the
wedding.
September 26.
Nice letters by mail to-day, but I am so down and miserable in spirits,
that I do not know what will be the result. I feel ill just from
despair. There seems no outlook anywhere—no hope. I feel ashamed of
myself, for there are so many so much worse off. God forgive me.