December 19.
Both yesterday and to-day I got up very early and went out to the stable to help Bonaparte. It is very provoking of Gibbie to absent himself in this way, for I find he is not waiting on his mother, who has her husband and three other sons and their wives devoted in their services, while Gibbie is just idling along the roads.
December 20.
A perfect day, the air warm and balmy. On my way home from church heard of Eva's death. She was a simple, faithful soul, always diligent, working hard in her large field around her house and giving freely of the produce to her five sons, four of whom have families, but none of them has inherited her working, faithful nature. I will miss her greatly.
I had a good attendance of darkies at Sunday-school this afternoon. I was so pleased to see the children all so clean and nicely dressed, and they behaved so well. There were fourteen girls and fifteen boys, most of them between 10 and 14 years of age. After they have gone over the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments several times, with explanatory remarks from me, they repeat after me a hymn, this time: "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night," preparatory to Christmas. Then I go in to the piano and have the girls in the room, while the boys stand by the window; and they all sing à faire peur.
She was a simple, faithful soul—always diligent.
They enjoy it so that their whole strength is put into sound. In vain I listen for the sweet voices I have heard in times past—this is all volume without sweetness—and I fear I will crack my own throat in my efforts to guide the volume aright. "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," they know pretty well, also "Onward, Christian Soldiers."
After four hymns they stand in order of size in the piazza and I hand around two pounds of candy, which just gives each child a stick, and they depart. But to-day little fellows shot out from the row and four with much serious unwrapping of handkerchiefs handed me each an egg. I was much surprised and thanked them with effusion.