He says Bonaparte is a child to him, and Bonaparte was born in 1833. I wish the old man's farm was nearer. It is quite a large tract and he has given a part to his son, Kilpatrick, who is a carpenter. If I could get Ancrum to superintend the hoe work here it would make all the difference in the world in the results. But he is greatly interested in his own farm and only comes now and then when he wants something.
My rice is beautiful, contrary to all expectations. It is upland rice and has stood the drought better than any of the other crops. Jean and Florinda have worked it perfectly clean; there is not a spear of grass and it is a rich dark green and growing apace.
I have Goliah at last in whole clothes. I had a very stout piece of sky blue denim, and his first trousers were made of that, and with a blue and white shirt he is quite startling. Then he has two white suits. I choose white because I can see when they are clean, which I could not do if they were dark colored. He is very proud and has redoubled his activity.
He is so small that he has to have a box to stand on to harness the horse, and even with that he cannot get the head-stall on without help. He is very persistent and very gentle with "Root," as he calls her, and I admire the graceful way in which Ruth has yielded to him. She really tries to help him in every way and stands stock-still while he labors with the fastenings of the collar and hames. Goliah has seen a good deal of life and he feels that just now the lines have fallen in pleasant places for him, and he does his little level best all the time.
On Sundays I take him to the church gate in his sky blue suit to carry my music books for me. The first time he went he had a little wistful look, so I said, "Would you like to go to church, Goliah?" "Yes, ma'am," he replied. So I took him in and showed him the pew reserved for his color and told him to watch when people knelt and stood and sat, and to do the same. As I sat in the choir at the other end of the church I had to exercise my faith in his discretion. When I heard him say his little catechism that evening he told me he "'joyed the chutch mutch. Befo' I never cud stand to go to chutch, but I like dis, en I want you, please, ma'am, to le' me go next Sunday." Of course I was very pleased, and ever since he has gone to church and I am told by a most particular member whom I asked to give an eye to him that he behaves perfectly.
I was so pleased with this that it was a shock to me to find that Chloe disapproved intensely of it. When I asked her to leave the dinner for Patty to cook the last Sunday our minister was here she said no, she did not feel like going. I urged her to go, when to my amazement she said, "No, ma'am! You t'ink I'd go en set down by dat chile een chutch? No, ma'am, if I neber go to chutch I wouldn't set down by Goliah!" I retreated before the unknown; you may live near these people all their lives and never understand them. Goliah is preternaturally clean, for I have to take him about in the buggy with me, and that is why I have him wear white entirely; there is no concealing dirt on a white suit. So that the scorn of sitting beside him comes from something different and incomprehensible to me.
Poor Jim is terribly discouraged. The corn is being stolen daily.
After these rains the track of the thief is plainly to be seen, a very big, bare foot. Jim called me to see it and I took a little cane and measured the track and when I came home took my tape measure and found it was fully thirteen inches long. A smaller foot is also visible.
Lizette tells Chloe how grand a time every one in the street has at night with big pots of corn boiling on the fire and even the babies eat it. What hope is there of ever making, or rather getting, a crop of anything? They are as natural and unrestrained in getting at what they want to eat as ants, and just as hard to frustrate and control.
Sunday.