_Pine Grove._ [_Sept. 23._] I think you would be quite astonished at
the refinement and homelikeness of our parlor. Bright table-cloths, a
most elegant couch lately developed,--a comfortable old sofa, pictures
all around, a fancy bookcase almost full of books,--a glass-topped
secretary with an ample supply of pigeon-holes and writing
arrangements,--papers lying around loose,--and a wood fire burning in
the big chimney-place,--won't that do for philanthropists? One door
opens into a large dining-room,--the windows upon a portico, looking
out upon the creek winding among the green marsh grass, with broad
water and islands in the distance. For contrast now and then a pig
squalls vigorously under the house,--for it is getting cold now and
the pigs eagerly seek the shelter of the "big house." It is in vain
to try to keep them out, though I've had a fence built round the
house.
_Nov. 14._ I shall have to take to contraband pants, I'm afraid, as I
did last winter. The negroes can hardly hold me to be of gentle kind,
when they see me doing their own work in their own clothes. I wish you
would come down to see me, if it is only, by the sight of a white
cravat and shining beaver, to convince them that I am a "boss" born.
You shall have your fill of clearing up and improving, too; I need
just such energy to make respectable my own premises. At present they
are the pigs' playground, except on Sundays, when a lot of the
plantation urchins are allowed very quietly to peep in at the windows
and learn manners from white folks. At present a young fellow, who has
lately waked up from a slouch into a man, is patiently leaning against
the sill, waiting, I suppose, for his lesson.