"I sometimes have uninvited guests in my tent. Friday, Nettie saw something on the tray that Eliza was carrying. It had a long tail, and proved to be a stinging scorpion. The citizens pooh-pooh at our fear of scorpions, and insist that they are not so very dangerous; but I was glad to have that particular one killed by Armstrong planting his gun on it. I feel much pleased, and Armstrong is quite proud, that I made myself a riding-habit. You know I lost the waist of mine in the forest. It took me weeks to finish it, being my first attempt. I ripped an old waist, and copied it by drawing lines with a pencil, pinning and basting; but it fits very well. I remember how you both wanted me to learn when I was at home, and I almost wished I had, when I found it took me such ages to do what ought to have been short work."
"Our letters take twenty days in coming, and longer if there are storms in the Gulf. The papers are stale enough, but Armstrong goes through them all. I feel so rich, and am luxuriating in four splint-bottom chairs that we hired an old darkey to make for us. I want to sit in all four at once, it seems so good to get anything in which to rest that has a back."
"Our dogs give us such pleasure, though it took me some time to get used to the din they set up when Armstrong practiced on the horn. They call it 'giving tongue' here, but I call that too mild a word. Their whole bodies seem hollow, they bring forth such wild cries and cavernous howls. We call them Byron, Brandy, Jupiter, Rattler, Sultan, and Tyler."
"Something awful is constantly occurring among the citizens. It is a lawless country. A relative of one of our old army officers, a prominent planter living near here, was shot dead in Houston by a man bearing an old grudge against him. It is a common occurrence to shoot down men here for any offense whatever. Armstrong never goes anywhere except for hunting, and as we have plenty of books and our evening rides, we enjoy life thoroughly. Nettie fell from her horse, and we were frightened for a time, but she was only lamed. Though she weighs 165 pounds, Autie[C] picked her up as if she were a baby, and carried her into their tent."
"Besides visiting at the house of the collector of the port, where there is a houseful of young girls, we have been hospitably treated by some people to whom Armstrong was able to be of use. One day, a gentle well-bred Southern woman came into our tent to see Armstrong, and asked his protection for her boy, telling him that for some childish carelessness the neighboring colored people had threatened his life. Armstrong believed her, and melted. He afterward inquired elsewhere into the matter, and was convinced that the boy had not intentionally erred. The child himself was proof, by his frank manner and his straightforward story, of his innocence."
"I suppose we were the first Yankees these people had ever known, and doubtless nothing but gratitude induced them even to speak with us; yet they conquered prejudice, and asked us to dinner. They had been so well dressed when they called—and were accounted rich, I believe, by the neighbors—that I could scarcely believe we had reached the right house when we halted. It was like the cabins of the 'poor white trash' in the forest, only larger. I thought we had mistaken the negro quarters for the master's. Two large rooms, with extensions at the rear, were divided by an open space roofed over, under which the table was spread. The house was of rough logs, and unpainted. Unless the Texans built with home materials, their houses cost as much as palaces abroad, for the dressed lumber had to be hauled from the seacoast."
"The inside of this queer home was in marked contrast with the exterior. The furniture was modern and handsome, and the piano, on which the accomplished mother, as well as her little son, gave us music, was from one of our best Northern manufactories. The china, glass and linen on the dinner-table were still another surprise."