Peaceville, September 1.
A beautiful morning, though clouds are still flying. Everything is fresh and sparkling after the rain.
Had a terrible temptation—a letter yesterday from A. C. begging me to join her in Columbia to-morrow and make the journey with her to Highlands, where my sisters and their families are. All summer J. has been urging me to spend the hot months with her, and sent the check for my travelling expenses, which I returned, as it seemed to me my duty to stay here.
Now the thought of that wonderful exhilarating climate and beautiful scenery with all my dear ones was too much for me. I determined to go. Drove to Cherokee and gave Bonaparte directions for the conduct of everything during my absence, specially the curing of my precious pea-vine hay. Sent word to the ferryman to have the flat on this side of the river at 3:30 a.m. Had the shafts taken off and pole on the buckboard, so as to drive the pair, as I wished to take my steamer trunk with me.
It would be necessary to leave here at 2:10 a.m. to take the 6 a.m. train, though it is only eighteen miles; but the ferry represents an unknown quantity. After all was done I felt very light-hearted. To turn my back on heat and worry, on discouragement and continual effort, was delightful and I walked down to the barn-yard with light and springy tread.
On my way the gorgeous sunset struck me and I stopped, spellbound by its infinite beauty. Oh, the tenderness of the light, fleecy pink clouds; oh, the passionate red of the darker ones; oh, the golden glow of the horizon! Could anything hold more intense beauty and delight? Could one look at that and shrink from toil and moil and sweat in the path of duty? Was I a coward? Was I a shirk? Had I not chosen my own path and was I too much of a weakling to walk in it? Was I willing to leave the burden and heat of the day for two old darkies to struggle through alone?
I stood there filling my soul with beauty and strength until the last beam faded, then went to old Bonaparte and countermanded all my orders. It was all easily done except to notify the ferryman that he need not be ready for me, and I will send him a little present to make up for that. I have but one distress. I wrote to my sister by to-day's mail to say if it was possible to do it I would go, and I hate to think of her disappointment.
I drove back to the pineland in my little old rattling buckboard, it being too late to have the pole taken off of the other one, and a great peace filled me. Chloe was overjoyed at my change of plan, though she had encouraged my going in every way and had my trunk all packed. As for Goliah, he fairly glittered with joy, which condition was contributed to by the habit he has taken up recently of greasing his broad little black face very thoroughly with the vaseline I provide for keeping the harness soft. He seems to find infinite comfort from rubbing a quantity on his hands and then massaging his face very hard with both hands. It always amuses me, it is such an odd thing for a child to do.
September 4.
A glorious autumn day, really cold. I was very busy all morning bottling some blackberry wine made in 1903. Somehow there was great haste all day. At the plantation got very unhappy over the fear of cockspurs in the hay. It is impossible to make the negroes understand the importance of destroying them. Last year the horses had none of the best hay. It was all kept for the cows because there were a few cockspurs in it.