Sadai jumped out of bed very early this morning to feel in her
stocking. She could not believe but that there would be something in
it. Finding nothing, she crept back into bed, pulled the cover over
her face, and I soon heard her sobbing. The little negroes all came
in: "Christmas gift, mist'ess! Christmas gift, mist'ess!"
I pulled the cover over my face and was soon mingling my tears with
Sadai's.
* * * * *
[The records in the journal for the year 1865 are full of details of
farm work and reflections on the war. For example]: