Drove Marietta to-day, and though she was nervous at first and it was hard for me to get in the road cart, she soon quieted down and went eight miles without any excitement, so that I had the pleasure of giving her the two quarts of oats mixed with soda and hot water which is the reward of merit.
Friday, January 8.
This morning I told Gibbie that we would drive down the road, as we have been up so often, because the bridge a short distance below has been undergoing repairs. Marietta went very quietly until we got out of the gate and turned her head down the road and I got in—then she wheeled sharp around and reared until I thought she must fall back—she plunged, she squatted until she broke up the harness entirely. Gibbie lost his nerve and instead of holding her by the bit, as he did the last time she fought, he held the end of a six foot halter, so that he had no power over her and was in danger of being pawed.
I held on to the reins, fortunately. She turned herself around in the shafts, having broken girth and crupper, until she faced me, and as I kept my tight grip on the reins she was nearly choked. Purposely I pulled tighter and tighter, and when she found herself entirely tied up in the harness and choking she was quiet and stood without moving while Gibbie and Bonaparte took off the remnants of the harness. Fortunately the head-stall and reins were strong and held. I found there was no hope of putting her back in the cart, as it would take days to patch up the harness, so I told Gibbie I would drive her down the road without any vehicle, he leading and I holding the reins behind. We had a great deal of trouble to get her started down the road, but she went after a while quietly enough until we came to the bridge, where she made a tremendous fight. When I was worn out with her wheeling and fighting I gave the lines to Gibbie and told him to stand perfectly still, not make any effort to get her over, but if she started to go, to follow her. Then I went across and stood a short distance from the bridge and willed her to come over, putting all my strength into the will. She put one foot slowly forward and then the other, apparently with the greatest reluctance, but once started she came straight to me, and then I took the lines and drove her three miles. She was just as quiet and docile as though she had never fought. She walked so rapidly, however, dragging me along at a most unusual pace for me, that I was completely exhausted when we got home.
January 8.
Started on mattress about 10 o'clock and worked steadily until I finished it at midnight. I made the tick on the machine just after breakfast and then had Bonaparte make me a frame just the size of the spring I wanted the mattress to fit. This was not finished until 10 and I was very much afraid I would not be able to finish, but I did by working, with only half an hour for dinner. I get so interested in anything I am doing, it does not matter what it is, for the moment, it is the most engrossing occupation in the world. The wool was beautifully washed, which made it pleasant.
When it came to sticking a needle a foot long through the mattress and tying with twine I had to get Jim's willing and efficient help, but that was not until after 9 to-night. I am so exhilarated by the success of my work that I am neither tired nor sleepy and have to make myself stop working and go to bed, when I hope to sleep serenely "clothed in the light of high duties done."
January 9.
Sewed nearly all day, which is a rare treat to me. The wood we are using burns out so fast, that I have been urging the men to cut enough logs from the live oaks (which I have at last got sawed down), to give each fireplace a back log; that makes such a difference in the permanence and heat of the fire. Joe Keit said the wood was too hard, might as well try to cut iron, and that it would take all day to cut one log, making it very dear wood. I was provoked, but never having sawed any wood at all, I did not know whether what he said was true or not—that always worries me—so I put down my sewing and got the big saw about 4½ feet long with one handle, which is comfortable to grasp, and went out to the four splendid live oaks which were killed in the storm, whether by lightning or otherwise I don't know, but they have stood there in melancholy naked grandeur ever since, till this winter I bought a fine cross-cut saw, and had Jim and Joe Keit to saw them down. It was long and laborious, but they had become a menace to the cattle, as the limbs rotted and fell. I selected a limb of suitable height for me to work on and began very awkwardly to saw. The cattle seeing so unusual a sight gathered round me, and Equinox, the bull, feeling sure I must be fixing food for them, came nearer and nearer in his investigations, so that I was forced to an ignominious retreat, before I had made much progress on my "iron" limb. I was not going to give it up, however. I went into the next lot where there was an even more indestructible oak tree, which various men at various times had refused to tackle, and began afresh with the saw. I was pleased to find myself already a little handier and worked with great satisfaction. I remembered Dickens' "'tis dogged does it" and my spirits rose as I got the knack of drawing back the big saw. Jim, who was engaged in cutting limbs from a green live oak, which is much less tough, and which I disapprove of entirely, some distance off, came and expressed great anxiety lest I overexert myself and said, "Let me finish it, Miss Patience, you'll be here till dark," but I proudly declined, and to his and my amazement I had the back log off in half an hour.
"Now," I said, "if I who have never handled a saw before in my life, can cut that log, seven inches in diameter, which has been here since the storm of '93, and rings like metal when you strike it, in half an hour, you and Joe Keit should be able to cut those logs of the same size from those oaks which are rotting a little, in ten minutes, and by giving a day to it, the house will be supplied with back logs for two months at least."