Chapter I: CHEROKEE, March 30, 1903 (2)

Punctually at the hour three little boys and one little girl arrived, while the other boys in the village played up and down before my gate most ostentatiously, so that little heads could not help turning to see what was going on, and in the midst of one of the Commandments, I heard a squeaky little voice, "I wonder what those fellows are laughing at!" for they had got up a great burst out in the road, quite a stage laugh.

However, we got through comfortably and went into the sitting-room to the piano, and I asked each one to choose a hymn which we sang. At the second hymn one of the boys from the road joined us, but I seemed unconscious of his presence, and when the singing was over, I invited the first four into the dining-room and handed them some little sponge cakes.

The next Sunday there was a full attendance and has been ever since. The lesson has to be carefully selected, as there are four denominations represented, so I take the Lambeth platform and teach the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. After that I tell them Bible stories, beginning with the thrilling narration of the Creation and the Garden of Eden.

When I first told how Eve was tempted to eat the fatal apple, and Adam too was tempted, and they were driven out from that beautiful spot to earn their living in the sweat of their brows, the interest was breathless, and one little fellow asked:—

"Miss Patience, what would have happened if they had never eaten the apple? Would they have stayed in the garden?"

"Yes," I said with confidence.

"And never had to wear any clothes?"

More faintly I answered "No, I suppose not."

"Well," he said, "the garden would have had to be made much bigger for all the children that were to come."

"Yes," I said, "I suppose the whole world would have been a garden," but I was glad to leave the subject and get on to firmer ground.

However, this Sunday when I asked them to tell me the story, they went on swimmingly until I asked who ate the apple first. Most chivalrously they all answered, "Adam."

"No," I said, "I am sorry to say it was Eve."

"Then," piped up the squeaky little voice, "then, Miss Patience, women are badder than men."

"Oh, no," I exclaimed, "but Eve was beguiled by the serpent, who told her the fruit would make her wise. The great Creator made man first, and meant him to be the protector and guide of the woman, and when she offered him the apple, he should have refused and said, 'Light of my eyes, we must not eat it. The Great Being who made us and gave us this beautiful home forbid us to eat of that fruit.' But Adam failed in his duty and ate the apple, and they were driven out."

My sturdy little brown-eyed thinker, who had been listening with profound attention, said:—

"Miss Patience, what would have happened if Eve had eat the apple and Adam hadn't?"

I was completely routed. "I cannot think what would have happened then."

There was a chorus of little voices: "Why, Eve would have been driven out, and he would have the garden for hisself."

I am quite sure when I was small we never asked such questions. Perhaps when it was read, as it used to be, in the Bible language, it did not take such hold on the mind as it does when narrated, but I am so eager to get their interest and attention that I tell them the stories instead of reading them, and with such success that nothing but force could keep them away.

Always have to light the lamp before we finish singing, but no one will give up his hymn, and as I read over each verse very slowly before we sing it, and they repeat it after me, it takes a good while. It is wonderful how quickly they learn the words.

One very small boy, who strayed in for the first time, when I told him he could choose a hymn asked for "Yankee Doodle," greatly to the amusement of those who had been coming two months. It is a pleasure to teach such bright children. At the end I always hand a few chocolates or some candy.

CASA BIANCA, October 8, 1903.

The harvest has come and with it real harvest weather—crisp, cool, clear; and the bowed heads of the golden grain glow in the sunshine. The hurricane which was reported as wandering around last week frightened me terribly, but after waiting Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for it to materialize, I had to cut on Thursday, for the rice was full ripe, and though we have had some light showers, there has been no serious bad weather. To-day the hands are "toting" the rice into the flats.

You see a stack of rice approaching, and as it makes its way across the plank which bridges the big ditch, you perceive a pair of legs or a skirt, as the case may be, peeping from beneath. Men, women, and children all carry, what look like immense loads, on their heads, apparently without effort. This is the gayest week of the year. Thursday the field was cut down by the hands with small reap-hooks, the long golden heads being carefully laid on the tall stubble to dry until the next day, when it was tied into sheaves, which the negroes do very skilfully with a wisp of the rice itself. Saturday it was stacked in small cocks to dry through Sunday, and to-day it is being loaded into the flats, having had every advantage of weather.

If only no rain or wind comes until it is unloaded at Cherokee, fifteen miles up the river! I have sent for a tug to tow the two flats up on the flood-tide this evening—just now it is dead low water, and the flats are aground, which always scares me; for, if by any chance they get on a log or any inequality, they get badly strained and often leak and ruin the rice. Flats are one of the heavy expenses on a rice plantation—large, flat-bottomed boats from twenty to eighty feet long and from ten to twelve feet wide, propelled in the most primitive way by poles and steered by one huge oar at the stern. They can be loaded up very high if the rice is properly stowed.

I have sent to try and get some rice-birds for my dinner. These are the most delicious little morsels, so small one can easily eat six for breakfast, and a man makes nothing of a dozen for dinner. We used to get them in great abundance only a few years ago, but now the rice-bird industry has become so big a thing we find it very hard to get any at all. Formerly a planter hired bird minders, furnished powder and shot, and got several dozen birds from each one; but now the negro men go at night with blazing torches into the old rice-fields, which are densely grown up in water-grasses and reeds, the birds are blinded and dazed by the light, and as the fat little bodies sway about on the slender growth upon which they rest, they are easily caught, their necks wrung, and they are thrust into the sack which each man has tied in front of him. In this way a man sometimes gets a bushel by the time the reddening dawn brings him home, and he finds waiting for him on the shore buyers from the nearest town, who are ready to pay thirty cents a dozen for the birds, so that one or two nights of this sport give as much as a month's labor. Of course, it is hard to come out to cut rice the next day, so probably illness is pleaded as an excuse for his absence in the field.

This makes it more and more difficult to get the rice harvested; no one but one of African descent could spend his nights in the rice-field, where the air is heavy with the moist malaria, so it is his opportunity. The shooting of rice-birds has almost gone out, for the bird minders are so careless. They shoot into the rice and so destroy as much as the birds, almost; now blank cartridges are almost entirely used to scare the birds. Going round the field one day with Marcus, I said, with great relief: "I'm so glad not to see a single bird to-day." He laughed and said: "Miss, wait till de bird minders shoot." In a few seconds the bird minders became aware of my approach and up and fired very nearly at the same time. The birds rose in clouds so that the sun seemed darkened for a few seconds, and the noise of their wings was deafening. It seemed tantalizing not to be able to get any to eat. In spite of the tremendous report of the firing, it did no execution, for the old-fashioned muskets which are used have an enormous load of very coarse powder, but no shot.

Now, my flats are loaded, and I must start on my twelve-mile drive to the pine-land. As soon as I can have the flats unloaded I must send them back for the hands to harvest their rice. I do not pretend to overlook this. I try to put them on their mettle to do the best possible. Some respond, but the majority just poke along, doing as little as possible each day, so as to have longer time to strip the rice from the straw, and carry it home in bags, so that when it comes to mill, there is not enough to pay their rent. They know how I hate to take all they bring, I so like for them to have a nice little pile of their own to ship; it is very hard for me to believe what the foreman tells me, that they have been eating this rice for three weeks past.

October 16.

I have threshed the May rice, and it has turned out very well, considering the hard time it had for two months after it was planted. My wages field made twenty-five bushels to the acre and the hands nearly the same, only a little less, but it is good rice and weighs forty-six pounds to the bushel; and as I hear every one complaining of very light rice, I am thankful it is so good.

October 17.

I have had an offer of $1.05 for my rice in the rough, and I am going to take it, though I shall miss the cracked rice and the flour which we get when the rice is milled, and the rice will have to be bagged and sewed up, which is a great deal of work; but Mr. S. will pay for it at my mill, and that will relieve my anxiety about money.

October 18.

A hard day's work, but the sale has been most satisfactory, for as the standard weight per bushel for rice is forty-five, and my rice weighs forty-six or forty-seven, I have a good many more dollars than I had bushels, which is very cheering; and I have had grip and am greatly in need of cheering. Mr. S. weighed every sack and put down the weights and then added up the interminable lines of figures. I added them, too, but was thankful I did not have the responsibility, for they came out differently each time I went over them.

October 24.

The harvest of my June field (wages) began to-day. Though very weak and miserable from grip, I drove the twelve miles to Casa Bianca, and in a lovely white piqué suit went down on the bank. I timed myself to get there about 12 o'clock, and as I expected I met a procession of dusky young men and maidens coming out of the field. I greeted them with pleasant words and compliments on their nice appearance, as they all reserve their gayest, prettiest clothes for harvest, and I delight to see them in gay colors, and am careful to pay them the compliment of putting on something pretty myself, which they greatly appreciate. After "passing the time of day," as they call the ordinary polite greetings, I asked each: "How much have you cut?" "A quarter, Miss." "Well, turn right back and cut another quarter—why, surely, Tom, you are not content to leave the field with only a quarter cut! It is but a weakling who would do that!" And so on till I have turned them all back and so saved the day.

A field of twenty-six acres is hard to manage, and unless you can stir their pride and enthusiasm they may take a week over it. One tall, slender girl, a rich, dark brown, and graceful as a deer, whose name is Pallas, when I ask, "How much?" answers, "Three-quarters, Ma'am, an' I'm just goin' to get my break'us an' come back an' cut another quarter." That gives me something to praise, which is always such a pleasure. Then two more young girls have each cut a half acre, so I shame the men and urge them not to let themselves be outdone; and in a little while things are swimming. I break down some of the tops of the canes and make a seat on the bank, and as from time to time they come down to dip their tin buckets in the river to drink, I offer them a piece of candy and one or two biscuits, which I always carry in the very stout leather satchel in which I keep my time-books, etc.

Though the sun is fiery, I feel more cheerful than I have for a good while. The field of rice is fine, Marcus says,—"Miss, I put my flag on dat fie',"—and insists it will make over forty bushels to the acre. I don't throw cold water on his enthusiasm, but I know it will not. However, the rice is tall, and the golden heads are long and thick. I count a few heads and find 200 grains on one or two, and am almost carried away with Marcus's hope, but will not allow myself to think how much it will make. One year this field put in the bank $1080, but I know it will not do that this year. There is no use to think of it.

I stayed on the bank until sunset to encourage the slow workers to finish their task. All the work in this section is based on what was the "task" in slavery times. That it was very moderate is proved by the fact that the smart, brisk workers can do two or three "tasks" in a day, but the lazy ones can never be persuaded to do more than one task, though they may finish it by 11 o'clock. I feel placid to-night, for half the field is cut down and will dry on the stubble all day to-morrow.

October 26.

Drove down to Casa Bianca as early as I could and found the hands cutting merrily. As soon as each one had cut a half acre they turned in and tied that cut on Saturday and stacked it in small cocks.

Again I am cheered and rested by the beauty around me. The sun is gorgeous, though the autumn haze is all over the wide expanse of level fields with every hue of green and gold. I get in the small patches of shade made by the tall canes and feast my eyes and thank the Great Artist who has made it all so beautiful.

The three flats are in position for loading to-morrow, the wind is still west, and so I hope the fair weather may last. My supply of candy and biscuits is much appreciated. I make my own lunch on the biscuits and a bottle of artesian water, which I always take with me. I would as soon think of eating snake's eggs as of drinking the river water, so full is it of animal life, I am sure. I know how it would look under a powerful microscope.

October 31.

Spent yesterday in the mill threshing out my rice, most trying to me of all the work, the dust is so terrible; but the mill worked well, and so did the hands—and better than all, the rice turned out well, thirty-five bushels to the acre, and good, heavy rice. So I felt rewarded for the dust and other trials. I was so determined to prevent stealing that I engaged the sheriff's constable to watch on the nights that the rice was stacked in the barnyard; and now that expense is over, and the pile is safe in the second story of the shipping barn. Next I have to thresh out the people's rice from Casa Bianca, which will be up in a day or two; then I will have a little time to have the upland crops seen after before the rice here, at Cherokee, which was planted very late, will be ready to cut.

CHEROKEE, November 4.

Yesterday I had my wages field of rice here cut. It is only eleven acres of very poor rice, which has cost a good deal of money, owing to the freshets. The only thing to be done now was to get it in with as little expense as possible, so I announced yesterday that it must be in the barnyard to-night. Bonaparte looked wise, smiled in a superior way, and said that was impossible—that perhaps by Tuesday it could be got in. I didn't dispute his wisdom or argue with him. I simply went into the field with the hands in the morning, yesterday, and stayed until it was all cut down. I told Bonaparte to put a watchman in the field, and left the choice to him. He said he would put Elihu; so I rested content until about 10 o'clock, when I began to get anxious about it. The best planter in my neighborhood had told me he had never known the stealing of rice so bad from the field. He attributed it to there being so little planted as high up the river on account of the freshet, so that rice is very scarce. This rice had not been good enough to warrant the expense of the constable, but I did not wish to lose the little that was there, so I determined to go over and see for myself. I called a negro boy of about sixteen years whom I had recently taken into my service, and asked him if he was afraid to row me over to the field. He hesitated and I went on: "I want to take some lightwood and a blanket over to Elihu, who is watching, for the night is very cold." At once he said he was not afraid at all, as the moon was bright. When I ran up to my room to get my wraps and my good Chloe found I was going, she said: "Miss Patience, le' me go wid you; I know well how fo' paddle boat, en yo ain't long git dat boy, en yu dun know ef 'e kin manige boat at night." Of course I was delighted to take Chloe; I sent Jake for lightwood, she took the blanket and I the matches. The getting in the boat was the darkest part, but once out on the river it was perfectly lovely—such a glorious night, the air so crisp and exhilarating. As we neared the field Chloe entreated me to be careful when I got out on the bank, for Elihu might take us for thieves and shoot; but I went very fearlessly, for I had a conviction that there was no Elihu there, and so it proved.

I told Jake to kindle a large fire in a sheltered corner of the bank, while Chloe and I walked all the way round the field. I can't describe the weird peace of the scene; and to make it more ghostlike Chloe insisted on speaking in a low whisper, as becoming the time and place, and reminding me that people from the next place might be hiding all around. No sign of any marauder, however, appeared, and I knew the fire on the bank would give the impression that I had installed my friend the constable, so I went back to the house entirely satisfied with the expedition. I charged Jake to say nothing on the subject to any one. Why will one try to exact the impossible? I lost my man, who has been with me fifteen years, this fall, and Jake is the substitute for the present.

To-day I stayed in the field again all day and succeeded in getting the rice tied and put in the flat by sunset. Then I said the flat must be taken up to the barn, but Bonaparte said that could not be done because there was "'gen tide." Of course all the men echoed that it was impossible, but I laughed at the idea, and climbing to the top of the rice, I sat there and told two of the young men to take the poles and push the flat out into the river—having privately asked old Ancrum who had stowed the flat if it was true that a flat could not go against the tide, and having heard from him that it was nonsense. The men pushed the flat out and poled it up the river with the greatest ease, and before dark it was safely staked under the flat house, so that my mind will be at rest about it to-morrow.

November 6.

Threshed out the rice to-day. It made only twenty bushels to the acre, and I hear rice has gone down very much. The hands now are whipping out the seed rice, which is a tedious business, but no planter in this county will use mill-threshed rice for seed. Mr. S., who bought my rice and who travels all over the South buying rice for a mill in North Carolina, told me that everywhere else mill-threshed rice was used, simply putting a little more to the acre. Here it is thought the mill breaks the rice too much, so the seed rice is prepared by each hand taking a single sheaf at a time and whipping it over a log, or a smooth board set up, until all the rice comes off. Then the sheaves are laid on a clay floor and beaten with flails, until nearly every grain has left the straw. After all this trouble of course it brings a good price—$1.75, $1.50 per bushel, $1.25 being the very cheapest to be had.

November 7.

The time for paying the taxes will soon be passed, and all the negroes on the place have asked me to pay their taxes in addition to my own, so that I must sell some rice. Took samples to our county town; I was told they were very good rice, but no one wished to buy. I was offered, however, 82½ cents a bushel for one and 85 cents for the other! I sold the smaller lot for 82½ and determined to hold the larger part, for I feel confident rice must go up by February, and I do so want to get $1 a bushel for it, for then I will pay out, but otherwise not, after all my work.

November 12.

Peaceville has been wrought up to a state of wild excitement. On Sunday afternoon, when I was expecting my little class, only Kitty and the Philosopher and Squeaky came, and before I could ask where the others were they burst out:—

"All the others have gone to hear the lion roar, and to see if they could get a peep at him."

"A lion? Here?" My tone was suitable to the subject.

"Yes, ma'am; they put up three big tents while we were in church this morning, right in front of the post-office."

I praised them for coming under such heavy temptations, but they exclaimed in chorus: "We didn't want to come—mamma made us; we wanted to hear the lion roar, too." At which I was more pleased than ever, and was as rapid as possible with the lessons and told no story, though I thought Daniel in the lions' den might suit the occasion; but I soon saw that they could listen to nothing under such phenomenal circumstances. A very feeble Punch and Judy is the greatest show seen here before.

We sang the hymns, I gave each one an apple, and said I would walk down with them to the tents. A most delightful progress we made, every one having turned out to see the unwonted sight.

Before we got to my gate the King of the Forest began to roar tremendously and kept it up, to the awe and delight of the humans and the dismay of the animals. Cows refused to come up to be milked, but fled to the swamp, and horses cowered in their stalls.

Every one, even the most sedate, had turned out to look at the tents. I went with the children until I saw their parents and then returned to my piazza.

Tuesday.

Yesterday was the grand day. There were two exhibitions, one at 1 o'clock and at 8 P.M. The two stores were shut for the day, and business suspended while the village gave itself up to dissipation.

I had to go to the plantation, having an appointment with a carpenter for an important bit of work. It was difficult to get Ruth past the tents. I took the plan of stopping to talk to every one I met as I approached the green in front of the post-office, which was so changed since Saturday, when she saw it last.

Most fortunately the lion did not roar at that time, and we got by without accident. Though I have seen a great many fine wild beasts, the excitement in the air gained me, and I was anxious for Chloe to choose the morning performance as I had to be away then; but Chloe, when I told her she could go morning or evening, whichever she preferred, said she would go at night, as she heard that would be the grandest. So I could not go, for she would never have consented to leave the house and yard unguarded.

I did not see the show, but I certainly have enjoyed the accounts of it and have come to the conclusion that the Shelby show might be called a high-class moral entertainment. The most particular and sedate, not to say prudish, were not shocked, and the acrobatic feats amazed every one.

Peaceville was a great surprise to them also; they asked for a hotel or boarding-house; there was none. They wanted to board somewhere, but no one took boarders. The acrobatic star, who, as Chloe described her, hung from the top of the tent, dressed in "pink titers," by one foot, holding up her fifteen-year-old daughter, also beautiful in pink tights, by the foot, said she did not wish to stay in a tent; she never did; she wanted to be in a house, and finally some ladies who lived near the place where the tents were pitched said they had an empty house in their yard which they would fix for her, and it being Sunday afternoon and no servants were to be found, the ladies themselves put beds in the house and made it comfortable for the acrobat ladies, and when these offered to pay, were quite shocked and surprised and said there was no charge; they were glad to have been able to make them comfortable.

Chloe and Dab have both given me thrilling accounts of the lady dressed in pure silver, a very stout lady who took the head of a snake, bigger round than Dab's body, and stroked it and laid it on her breast: "Her color was quite change while she did it, en the snake lick out 'e tongue en you could see the lady trimble an' it was byutiful."

Altogether for many days joy will reign in the memory of these delights. It was conducted with great dignity, and there was no confusion or trouble, which seems wonderful, for there were great crowds of darkies coming from miles around and only about thirty white people all together. Yet they had the seats arranged on different sides, so that all were satisfied. The lion was given part of a kid before the spectators, and then he stopped roaring.

November 18.

Green has returned to work; that is, he milked this morning and hauled one load of manure to the field. His cousin, Wishy, got his kinfolk to buy off the negro who was prosecuting him for killing his cow, and the case was dropped.

Long ago, when I kept Wishy from bleeding to death by patching up his head, I fear I did not benefit the world.

I find Elihu has gone! Moved bag and baggage to my neighbor's, where he will have unlimited credit. He owes me $10, which he promised faithfully to pay, and Jean and Kitty have walked off in my boots beyond the reach of my small efforts to improve them.

I feel quite sad about it—my heart has always been tender to Elihu; I have had to help him so often. The last time he went off to make "big money," as they call it, on some timber work he came back very ill, and for a month I took him nourishment and medicine daily, in spite of which his wife and children lived in my potato patch. He was very weak, and one day he broke out: "Miss, if I ever lef' you 'gen and gone off for work any ways else, you sen' for the sheriff en tie me. You ben good to me en ten' me, en den de debil mek me lef' yu fer mek' big money! en now look a' me! Yu ten' me en yu feed me des de same."

He is an uncommonly rich shade of black, so that his own mother always referred to him as "dat black nigger." Under constant and proper supervision he can be very useful, but he cannot make himself work every day. He must have a compelling hand and head behind him.

He has ten living children and a smart active young woman for his second wife. When we were planting largely of rice, he made a fine living, as he rented sixteen acres—he did the ploughing and his family the rest of the work. He had a splendid yoke of oxen, which he bought from us, and cows and another fine steer he had raised.

The changes in the conditions in the last few years I do not understand, but since McKinley's death steadily the negroes have declined in their responsibility and willingness to work until now their energies are spent in seeing how little they can do and still appear to work so as to secure a day's pay.

Elihu used to be a splendid ploughman, but this spring I had him to plough ten acres for me, breaking it up flush. The earth was barely scratched, I found afterward, though I paid him by the day instead of by the acre, fearing he would be tempted to hurry over it if I paid by the acre.

Forage was very scarce, and as long as he ploughed for me I told him to give his oxen all they could eat from the hay under the barn which was blown down. The two-story barn was packed full of hay, some of my best alfalfa, when the storm struck it. Of course it took some labor to get the hay out, and poor Elihu, after the mighty effort of ploughing one-half acre a day, could not make himself get out more than just enough to keep the oxen alive.

I had urged him from the beginning of the winter to make his children gather daily a certain quantity of the gray moss with which the oaks are laden and which cattle eat greedily; that would have kept his cows and oxen in good condition, but he never did it.

I had two large sacks gathered every day for my cattle; his went hungry. One by one the cows and young calves died, not being accustomed to range like the woods cattle.

Some time after he finished ploughing for me he drove his son up to see a doctor fifteen miles from here in a very bitter spell of weather—drove the creatures up without feed, and after consulting the doctor turned right back. One ox dropped and died two miles from home, the other managed to get back, but lay down about 100 yards from my front gate, under the trees laden with food which would have saved its life, if given in time. I used to take the lantern and go out at night to carry food to it, knowing that if Elihu saw me feeding it he would cease giving the little care which he expended on it.

It struggled on a week and then died. One month before he had been offered $60 for the yoke.

At last he had not an animal left. Then he came to me and said he would like to take service with my neighbor by the month as ploughman, as he would no longer give him work unless he hired to him by the month. I was very sorry, for I let him work there all the time when I had no work for him. He is a splendid boatman, and I always called on him to row me across the river and did not mind wind or waves with Elihu at the oars.

However, I told him he could do so if he paid $1 a month for his house—now he has gone, owing me for eight months rent besides his tax. Several years ago he was double taxed, having neglected to pay at the right time, and since then I have always paid his tax when I paid my own.

He owns some land with timber. When I went to pay the tax, I saw two buildings and twenty-five acres and the tax was $4. I saw Elihu, I showed him the paper, and asked:—

"Have you any buildings on the land?"

"No, miss, I ent build no house, I ruther stay here, en if I sick you ten' me."

"But, Elihu, the tax paper calls for two houses."

"Well, miss, ent you know, look like I ought to had house by now!"

"But if you have none, you should not pay tax on one. Now when February comes, which is the month to make returns, I will make your return without the house."

"Well, miss, if you tink so, but I hate fer tek off de house."

I deprived him of his air castle, but the tax was reduced to $2.70, I believe—I must look over the tax receipts to see.

I always pay Bonaparte's and some others, I am so afraid of their putting off until they are double taxed. I do not see how I am to pay my own taxes this year; they are nearly $200, and there is nothing coming in. I have many, many valuable things which I would like to sell, but I have no gift that way.

After many struggles I made up my mind to accept an offer for my castle in the air, a mountain top in the Sapphire region of North Carolina, but the purchaser withdrew; it is so with everything—no one wants to buy anything. If our valiant, voracious, and vivacious King Stork would only desist from his activities while a few small creatures were left it would be a mercy; but I fear when he gets through, there will be none but sharks, devil-fish, and swordfish left.

November 20, Saturday.

When Green came this morning, I told him I wanted Bonaparte to sow the oats on the land he has been ploughing this week, and he must harrow it in to-day, as the season is already late. He seemed shocked and said the land was quite too rough for him to get through harrowing the acre and a half to-day.

I in turn was shocked and told him that was absurd and that it must be done; that I was distressed to hear he had ploughed it so badly as what he said would indicate; that I would have Dab take Romola and run the cultivator while he ran the harrow, so as to have the oats thoroughly covered. I told Dab to get the horse at once and take the cultivator to the field.

I did a thousand things before following him. I found him in the slough of despond and I had to fix the harness, etc., for him, and then we proceeded to the field. I found Dab had not the faintest idea of how to guide the horse and manage the cultivator, so I told him until he got accustomed to it I would lead Romola, so that he could devote all his attention to the cultivator.

The ground was rough to distraction, and with every polite intention Romola could not help every now and then walking up my skirt, short as it was, and I was nearly dragged down upon the ground, but I could not bear to give up, though I was utterly exhausted, for the cultivator was doing good work.

We had just got through half an acre and I was wondering how I could retreat with my laurels, when Patty came at a full run to say the "lady had come." Never was an arrival more welcome. I told Dab he must take Romola back to the stable and make himself presentable and bring in dinner as soon as possible.

Made my way to the house as quickly as I could, but I was so tired that my feet were like lead. S— was very much surprised to find what I had been doing and proceeded to argue with me, but I only made fun of her arguments, and we had a very gay dinner.

My little brown maid Patty is a new acquisition and a great comfort, for she is very bright and intelligent and not too dignified to run, which is a great blessing.

CHEROKEE, Sunday, November 22.

Drove S— to church in our little pine-land village; she seemed to enjoy the very simple service. Then I took her over to my summer-house which is just across the road from the church. She was amused at the roughness and plainness of the pine-land house as compared to the winter quarters. Drove her then in to Hasty Point, which is named from Marion's hasty escape in a small boat from the British officers during the Revolution, and is a very beautiful point, overlooking the bold Thoroughfare and Peedee River; then home to a dinner of English ducks. I am very stiff from my agricultural efforts.

November 24.

Yesterday just as I was getting into the buckboard to drive S— down to Gregory to take the train Jim arrived. He has come to begin the colts' education and can only stay a month, as his employer in Gregory gave him a month's holiday. I am so glad to have him—told him to get all the harness together and mend things up and see if he could contrive a harness fit to put on Marietta to break her in the road cart.

S— was so anxious to see Casa Bianca that I thought we could drive in there on our way to Gregory, eat our lunch there, and still get down in time for the train, but we failed to do it. She was so delighted with the place and wanted to see everything in the rambling old house, even the garret with its ghostly old oil portrait of a whole family in a row and a broken bust of another member, that we delayed too long. Besides, the train left at 4:10 instead of 4:45, as it has been doing for some years. I had to leave S— to spend the night at the hotel, which I hated to do, but she said she must get off on the 6 A.M. train, and I was equally obliged to come home, so we parted with mutual regret.

It was late for my long, lonely drive. By the time I got to the ferry it was dark, and I wondered how I was to manage. I asked the two old men to lend me their lantern, but they said they could not spare it. However, about half a mile farther on I stopped at a cottage and asked for the loan of a lantern, and the owner, a darky, brought out a bright, well-trimmed lantern and with true courtesy assured me he was happy to lend it, and I made the drive without accident, truly thankful to get into my dear home, with its bright fire of live-oak logs, at 8:30 out of the cold and darkness.

December 8.

To-day Richard Dinny came to say he would undertake to mend the break in the rice-field bank. As it is about two miles round there in a boat, I had him paddle me through the canal to Long field trunk, and I walked from there on the banks. I hurried along because the time was short before hour for luncheon. I had had the bank hoed just in the middle, so that a sportsman could go through unseen by the ducks in the field. Sometimes it was hard for me to get through with my skirt, but the man found it hard to keep up with me. The break looked very alarming, the water rushing over, and every tide that goes over will double the work.

Coming back, my hair caught in a brier and I found it impossible to disentangle it. I had taken off my big hat early in the engagement and left it on the bank near the boat. After trying desperately to get free from the brier I asked Richard, who was just behind, if he had a knife. He said yes.

"Then cut this bramble," I said, holding well up above my head the brier, which was completely wrapped in my hair.

He got out his knife and took a long time about it, sawing and sawing, but finally I was released. As soon as I got home I rushed upstairs to fix my hair for luncheon, for it is curly and was every which way over my head. As I took it down a lock as thick as my finger came off in my hand. Richard had taken so long because he was sawing off my hair instead of the bramble.

December 9.

Yesterday's work at the break was too much for Richard. This morning he sent word he was called off by important business, so could not come.

December 11.

We are having the most delightful springlike weather. It is a joy to wake up morning after morning and find the same balmy, mild air. The effort to keep the house warm in the cold weather got on my nerves very much, and now I am relaxing and expanding to my own natural condition, which is rather optimistic—one of peace and good-will to the world in general, with a firm faith that things must come right in the end, however difficult and crisscross they may seem.

Went to Casa Bianca to-day. The place is too lovely for words. How any one who has the money and wants a winter home can hesitate to give $10,000 for it I do not see. When it is sold, it will break my heart, but either this place or that must go. This place (Cherokee) has nearly 900 acres, and the house is in perfect order. Besides, it has an ever-flowing artesian well 460 feet deep which throws water above the roof when a smaller pipe is put on,—a reducer, the man who bored the well called it. There is a grove of live oak of about 50 acres.

I often wonder that it should have fallen to my lot to have two such beautiful homes. Altogether if I only had a small certain income, I would not envy the King on his throne.

December 12.

All the sashes up this lovely April morning. I have a man called Jimmie trimming up a little. The vista my dear mother had cut out years ago had grown up, and it is a great pleasure to have it open once more. From the front piazza it opens a view down the river, a beautiful bend, the shining, glimmering water framed by the dark oak branches.

Finally I have put Joe, Ruben, and George to work on the break. After lunch went over in the boat to see their work; they had a fine supply of mud cut, some on the bank and some in the flat. Sent Bonaparte to take over some long plank for them to use inside of puncheons to hold the soft mud.

December 13.

Joe, George, and Ruben working on break. They had to be there at daybreak to catch the low tide. This afternoon I went over in boat to look at the work, and to my delight it is really done, and I believe will last, only every day at low water they must put on a little fresh mud to raise it as it settles.

Oh, this heavenly Indian summer! It is too delightful for words!

Bonaparte had Frankie and Green helping him to clean the chimneys. It is a troublesome business.

Bonaparte goes up on a ladder to the top of the house. It always frightens me to see him, for he is an old man, but he minds it less than the younger ones. He ties a stout cedar bough to a long rope about midway in the rope, then drops it down the chimney the three stories to the first floor; there Frankie catches the rope and between them they pull it backward and forward until the chimney is clean and the hearth is filled with soot.

Once I tried getting a chimney-sweep, but he wept and pleaded so not to go up the chimneys again, saying he would suffocate, they were so long, that I returned to the old and primitive way and will never try the sweep again. After this one sweeping we keep the chimneys clean by burning them, when there is a pouring rain, about once a month.

I have always broken my colts myself; no one but myself either rode or drove Ruth until she was thoroughly broken. Of course Jim's stable discipline was of the utmost importance, and he always went along, but he never touched the reins. I did the driving.

This year, however, I had not the spirit to cope with them and have determined to leave it entirely to him. He is now patching up a harness so as to drive Marietta in the road cart.

NOTE

It may be wise to explain a peculiarity of our low-country rice region. From the last week in May until the first week in November it was considered deadly for an Anglo-Saxon to breathe the night air on a rice plantation; the fatal high bilious fever of the past was regarded as a certain consequence, while the African and his descendants were immune. Hence every rice planter had a summer home either in the mountains, or on the seashore, or in the belt of pine woods a few miles from the river, where perfect health was found. In 1845 my father built a large, airy house surrounded with wide piazzas on Pawley's Island, and there he spent the summer, with occasional trips north and abroad, until the war made it unsafe to occupy the island. Then he built a log house in the pineland village of Peaceville: this large house with double shingled roof was built by his plantation carpenters with wooden pins, owing to the blockade there being no nails to be had. After the war my brother owned this, and my mother in spite of great difficulties returned to the beach as a summer home. As the crow flies this island was about three miles east of Cherokee, but for us mortals to reach it, many miles by land and water had to be traversed—all of our belongings, servants, horses, cows, furniture, were loaded on to lighters and propelled seven miles through broad rivers and winding creeks to Waverly Mills where they were disembarked and travelled four miles by land, but when we reached this paradise on the Atlantic Ocean we felt repaid for all the effort. It was here we spent our summers when I began my rice-planting venture. As my mother reached the limit which David places for the span of life, she shrank from the long move and bought a house in Peaceville just opposite the church and here the last beautiful summers of her life were passed in peaceful serenity.