They come every Sunday before I have finished my dinner, greatly to Don's indignation; any arrival at meal-times is displeasing to him, and for fear he will frighten the children I have him chained as soon as I come from church on Sunday. These children are all grandchildren of those who belonged to my father.
December 21.
Bagging rough rice in the barn all day. It is very cold and dusty. I have most unexpectedly sold this rice for a dollar a bushel, and instead of being full of thankfulness, my poor human nature is lamenting over the 600 bushels which I have fed to my creatures all summer, and let the hands have whenever they wanted it for forty cents a bushel, and thinking how rich I would be if I had it here now. I cannot get the rice from this year's crop threshed, little as it is, because it seems impossible to get any one to work the boiler.
December 24.
Very busy putting up a parcel to send to Dab's little brother Rab who is, I hope, being made over into a very good boy by the worthy Jenkins. The parcel contained only a suit of clothes, caps, suspenders, and necessary underclothing, but I wanted it to reach him on Christmas. To my intense regret I could not put even a nickel in the pocket. I generally put a quarter and I know he will search every corner.
The mail brought packages with loving offerings from my dear ones. I had not the heart to accept the many invitations I had to spend Christmas, and so I am alone and have time to realize the one great Christmas gift made to our humanity once for all time. This evening I sent by Gibbie a little package of good things to each darky child on the place.
Christmas Day.
I sat up until 1 o'clock last night rummaging through my possessions to find presents for the servants. I cannot bear to have nothing for them, but my dear father's constant injunction, "Be just before you are generous," is indelibly impressed upon me. I owe money to several and so I have not been willing to spend even a quarter on Christmas preparations.
