The older the vine the more luscious the grapes, and the perfume is most exquisite. It is a native of North Carolina, but takes kindly to this State and requires no spraying or care of any kind beyond breaking away the dead twigs and branches during the winter season—and mulching with dead leaves.
September 15.
Had a present of a bushel of grapes from Old Tom's children—such a pleasant surprise! The grapes from my arbor are so enjoyed by the whole plantation that I never get more than a peck at a time, so that it is a great thing to have such a handsome present. Presented the bringer with a dress for herself and shirt and cravat for the brother. That is what a present means with us—good will expressed, and a handsome return.
Peaceville, September 16.
This morning had a delightful present of venison. S. M. killed a deer yesterday.
Sent Chloe, Patty, and Goliah to plantation to pick the last of the grapes, and I tried to refresh myself by reading "Peter." Yesterday when I drove down Ruth behaved in the most unaccountable way. I had S. R. with me and we were driving up the avenue to the barn-yard, which is called the Red Bank—I do not know why, as it is not a bank nor is it red, just an avenue bordered by live oak trees with the fields of corn, peas, potatoes, etc., beyond. The growth is very luxuriant and thick on each side under the trees.
About halfway from the gate Ruth suddenly shied violently, shivered and shook, and though the road is quite too narrow to turn she backed violently right into the ditch, and before I understood what she was doing she had turned the buckboard around most cleverly and was rapidly on her way back to the gate with every sign of terror. As soon as I realized what had happened I drove into the field on one side of the road, turned and drove back up the avenue toward the barn-yard, the road she has travelled all summer every day but Sunday without showing the least fear of anything.
I made Goliah walk ahead until we got near the spot which had so terrified her. When I saw the fit of terror returning I gave the reins to S. who fortunately was with me and is a very good whip, and I got out and led Ruth by with the greatest difficulty. I do not know what to make of it unless there was some one hidden in the ditch who was very obnoxious to her.
The only time I ever knew her to shy so violently before was once when I was driving down to Casa Bianca alone. In a perfectly open, clear road, with a deep ditch on each side, no bushes or underbrush at all, she was trotting along briskly when suddenly she made a terrific shy to the right and bolted. In a few yards I pulled her down, and wondering greatly at her conduct I looked back to see if there were any stumps which I had not noticed, and out of the ditch on the left side of the road rose a most fearful looking head, a white man's, all overgrown with hair, hatless, dishevelled—no doubt a fugitive from justice who had wandered the roads a long time, from his aspect.
Needless to say I did not tarry to ask questions, but let Ruth travel at her very best speed, and that evening returning home I drove as fast as I could, whip in hand, but had no further trouble with Ruth.