_Aug. 15._ Just as we got up from the dinner-table, a woman came
running up for C. because the people were fighting. Poor thing! she
was dreadfully frightened and had run the whole way with her baby in
her arms and looked as if she had just stepped out of the river. I
don't know what the trouble was--it was the tongues of the women, and
they fired shells and tore each other's clothes in a most disgraceful
way, much to the mortification of the better part of the community.
Jealousy is the foundation of a great deal of trouble among them, and
there is often too much foundation for it.
_Aug. 31._ Mr. Soule had planned to go to Beaufort and see the
General, and C. wished especially to get permission to turn all the
young men from outlaws into private citizens by employing them and
paying them regularly, for he could not help their aiding their wives
and being employed by each other, a species of evasion which was
eminently calculated to give them high ideas of the power and value of
the law in the hands of the present authorities--C. helpless, and they
doing as they pleased! It looked like rain, however, and they gave it
up for that day.
_Sept. 1._ We had breakfast very early, and Mr. Soule and C. went off,
to discover as usual that our clock was about an hour fast! I thought
I would go out and dine and see how Mr. G. was, as he had had a fever
turn. So I mounted and started alone on my expedition, after carefully
locking the house. It was cloudy and cool, but I found my beast
beastly hard, so had to content myself with a walk. It was very
pleasant, as I rode along, to see how brightly the people looked up to
bow and speak. First old Richard in the overseer-yard, watching the
arbors, as they are called--the frames where the cotton is spread out
to dry; then men and women coming from the field with great sheets of
cotton on their heads which made them almost unrecognizable, little
Susie staggering under such a pile that I saw she never could get it
onto her head again alone as she was, if I asked her to put it down
and run back to open the gate for me, so after more than one trial I
succeeded in opening it for myself. Then I took my sack off and rode
in my white jacket, putting the sack round the pummel and fastening it
there by the extra stirrup which, as the only saddle we had for a long
time, was rigged onto it for Mr. Philbrick and still remains, a relic
of our early, barbarous days. But in a canter I lost it off, and had
to call a child to pick it up for me. Then Miller came along, going
out to help his "old woman" pick cotton, and walked by my side talking
of the fine crop, and that next year there would not be land enough
for the people--"dey work better nor Secesh time--encouragement so
good!" He was as bright and jolly as you ever saw any honest farmer
when his crops were in fine condition, and as we came in sight of
Phillis and Katy, his wife and daughter, and Amaritta in a task just
behind them, the latter called out to him, "Hi! Hi! bru' Miller, where
you go? my back mos' broke!" as if it were the pleasantest news in the
world. He answered, "Oh, I go walk, I got people pick my cotton," with
such a hearty ha! ha! as did me good to hear. Many of the men laugh
just like little children--Abel does. Next came Nancy, Peg, and Doll,
Demus' mother and sisters, and such a nice family--the bright, smiling
faces they raised to me and the cheerful "Hahdy, Missus," was worth
seeing and hearing, and when Nancy sent Peg running after me to open
the gate I was "fighting" with, she looked so bright, strong, and
handsome as she strode along so splendidly, her dress caught up at the
waist and let down from the shoulders, that I wished I could
daguerreotype her on the spot.
I found Mr. G. in a very decided chill on the sofa in front of the
parlor fire. I stayed an hour or two, and then, the fever coming on
quite severely and affecting his head a good deal, I rode home as fast
as possible to signal for Dr. Westcott.[143] I could not get through
the cotton-field, however, without being stopped two or three times by
applications for "suthin" for this child's boils or that one's sore
eyes, all of which I referred to the house, where I afterwards
administered to the best of my knowledge--one of my constant
occupations.
Mr. Soule and C. came back, with no news from Charleston, having found
the General and his staff just starting on a visit to the scene of
action, but C. had obtained permission to employ the men and made them
very happy the next day by telling them so.
_Sept. 5._ I have been endeavoring to instill habits of cleanliness
into Rose and in many ways have succeeded--she has regular days when
she goes home to wash, changes her "linen" twice a week, takes a warm
bath every Saturday, and keeps her head and feet in a condition to
which they were strangers previously. I can see, too, that it has had
a decided effect upon her sisters. One of the important items has been
pocket-handkerchiefs, with which I provided her, and she has to keep
them in her pocket. For two or three days lately she has forgotten
this essential article, and I finally told her that if it was
forgotten the next day I should have to send her home for it. I had
forgotten all about it, till, the next morning when she came to pour
the water into my tub for me, a most inordinate snuffling betrayed the
absent wipe. "Rose, where's your pocket-handkerchief? have you
forgotten it again?" No answer, but a hiding of the head under her arm
like a duck, which often takes place when she is in fault. "Then,
Rose, put the coffee on, sweep the parlor, and go home for it." This
elicited, "me no gwine home," a pert rejoinder I could not understand,
till on calling her to me I saw by her face how excessively green I
had been. I reprimanded her with a sober face as she again repeated
"me no gwine home," at the same time untwisting the handkerchief from
about her waist, but when she had left the room I should have shaken
the bed, if that had been my style of laughter. Robert is a great wag
in his way, though we do not see so much of his fun, as, having been
used to the house in "Secesh time," he is utterly undemonstrative
before white people and is only gradually thawing into a little more
communicativeness. But we overhear him sometimes talking with the
others. A most entertaining but not quite so pleasant exhibition of it
(and C. and I could not help laughing at Rose and Hester's
good-natured, amusing account) was his riding after the two girls one
day when he had been out for the horses, extolling himself and
insisting that they should call him "Maussa" or he would ride them
down, with his spurs on! Hester gave in, but Rose wouldn't--"him too
mannish!"
There is a great deal of tyrannizing over each other. "Mind now, min',
run quick or I knock you,"--or "kill you dead" it is as likely to
be,--is an ordinary method of getting anything done, while "cursing,"
as they call calling names, etc., is one of the hardest things I have
to contend with in school, they are so quick to interpret any look or
act into an offense and resent it on the spot with word or blow.
_Sept. 9._ I had a long talk with some of my big girls who had been
very noisy and fighting--they do "knock" each other most unmercifully,
and I can't instill any better notions into them. "Anybody hurt you,
you _'bleeged_ to knock 'em," is the universal response, and they have
no idea of letting any difficulty be peaceably settled.
The definite reply which these people require to the ordinary
salutation of Hahdy? or Huddy? into which it has degenerated here, is
very amusing, and a corresponding inquiry is expected in return, to
which they give the most minute answers. "Good morning, Hacklis
(Hercules), how are you to-day?" "Stirring, tank you, Ma'am, how
youself?" and if I had a headache I should no more think of saying
"pretty well" than if I were being cross-questioned at the bar--the
inquiry is so sincere and expects such a particular reply. "Dunno,
Missus--tank de Lord for life," is a common rejoinder, as well as "Not
so well, tank you, ma'am."
This is as good a place as any for some more examples of
negro speech and negro ways. The sayings of Rose, in
particular, were a constant source of interest and
amusement. H. W. writes that she "tells me everything, in
her simplicity, even to the fact that her father has silver
money which he keeps buried, and that her mother sends her
to the pen for milk before it comes up here!"
[_May 16._] Rose commented, "You lub Miss Helen," and then in a few
minutes, "Miss Helen lub you. All two (both). I love Miss Helen, too.
Miss Helen one _nice_ buckra. You more rough 'long er Miss Helen. Miss
Helen _so_ softle--when him touch me I no feel 'um--me feel you--you
so strong." All this with inimitable gesture and expression and a
"leetle" and "middling-sized-bear" voice that was inexpressibly droll.
[_May 17._] As I sat down to write this morning, Rose came in to dust.
"Miss Hy't, you gwine write Norf?" Yes, Rose. I told her that little
Robert sent me the pictures and a letter from little Mary. It pleased
her very much, and she said she wanted to see them. "Me lub Robert and
Mary." Thinking I should like to get at some of her notions, I asked
her, What do you mean by love, Rose? "Me dunno--brothers and sisters."
Don't you love any one else, Rose? "Me dunno." Why, you said yesterday
that you loved Miss Helen, and just now that you loved Robert and
Mary. "Me lub dem." By this time the top of her head was in contact
with the floor, when she suddenly raised herself to a kneeling posture
and pointing up, said a moment after, "Me lub God," and in a few
minutes, as if she were quoting, "An dem dat foller arter Christ."
What do you mean by that, Rose? "Me dunno," and I found she had not
the least idea. Presently she enumerated Mass' Charlie, Mass' Willyum,
and Mister Philbrick in her category, and then went on with her
dusting. By and by she said--"Miss Hyut, me no say your name." No,
Rose. "Well, me lub you an' Miss Helen de _morer_."
Mr. Thorpe has a boy, Strappan, who is even more noted than my Rose,
and who has given some remarkable answers to questions which Mr.
Thorpe puts to him, and which he takes down verbatim. The only one I
know is his definition of Love. "Arter you lub, you lub, you know,
boss. You can't broke lub. Man can't broke lub. Lub stan', he ain't
goin' broke. Man hab to be berry smart for broke lub. Lub is a ting
stan' jus' like tar; arter he stick, he stick. He ain't goin' move. He
can't move less dan you burn um. Hab to kill all two arter he lub, 'fo
you broke lub."
[_Aug. 15._] This morning Rose was sewing with me in my chamber, and,
as she is very apt to, got talking about the time when they ran away
from the "robbers" and the Yankees first came. It is always
interesting, and I wish I could give you her language, though it would
be little without her emphasis and expression. The first time she saw
a Yankee--"Great dairdy!" she said, "So Yankee stan'?" I don't think
she knew what sort of an animal to expect.
_Sept. 15._ When Rose came into my room this morning, she came up to
my bed to ask how I was and express her contrition that she did not
stay all night with me! "Me couldn't sleep, me think all night Miss
Hayiut sick, me should stay long him--when I go bed, me say, 'Hester,
Miss Hayiut sick, I oughter stay wid her;' Hester say, 'Come, go 'long
me, take you shum,' but me wouldn't go den!" She is very trying
sometimes, but full of character, as you see, and it is hard to know
just how to deal with her. I am afraid of being too lenient to her and
so spoiling her, or too stern, for fear I _should_ spoil her, and so
losing her affection, which ought to be the controlling influence.
With all their subserviency, which I am happy to say is disappearing,
they have little idea of obedience.
_Sept. 17._ This morning there was no milk, as in this benighted
region if it rains they don't "pen cow" at night, and for the same
reason Abel did not catch one in the field this morning that we might
have a drop for breakfast!
[_Oct. 19._] The doctor wanted some wormwood, and thinking I had heard
the people speak of it, I asked Elsie. "Me dunno, me dunno nothing; me
jis' born yestiddy!" she answered.
[_Nov. 16._] Rose came to tell me this morning that there was no milk.
Henry had dropped the bucket (from his head) and spilled it all. "See
Henry here." Why, Henry, where did you spill the milk? I asked in
dismay; but he looked blank till she interpreted for him--"Which side
de milk churray?" (throw away). _How_, _when_, and _where_ they do not
use or know the meaning of. _Which side_, is _where_--_What time_,
_when_--but they do not understand a sentence with _how_ in it.
The next four extracts give a good idea of Mr. Philbrick's
letters to his superintendents and of the far-sighted,
honest thought which he put on his Port Royal undertaking.
The first was written in the summer; the others appear in
their proper place in order of time.