The time for the payment of taxes has come. Mine are over $100 and my little cotton crop cannot cover them after paying my yearly accounts, so I must sell something, and I decided to send some of the things in the portfolio on to New York to be sold. There are a lot of queer old things in it which many would call rubbish, but which I delight in—a map of the city of Charleston in its veriest infancy and engravings of a horse and dog which had won beautiful silver prizes in 1760 or thereabouts. These things are of great interest in the family and especially to me, who live in the past so much.
Then there were some water colors I wanted to keep. Altogether this seems the last straw to a very tired camel. Bonaparte had gone home, it was late Saturday evening, and Jim is to take the box down to Gregory when he goes to-morrow to send off by express Monday, and I just gave up and let them all go. The eternal struggle against contrarieties and difficulties is too much for me.
The time for tax paying has nearly passed and if I do not send the things off to-morrow they will have to wait another week.
December 7.
The pace has been most rapid for some time and I find that when I have pleasant companionship I neglect my faithful dumb confidant.
Bonaparte's wedding preparations have caused me much anxiety. I promised him some money for the occasion and sold two of my precious young heifers to be sure to have it, but there has been some hitch and the money has not reached me, and when he came for it yesterday I had to tell him I did not have it, which hurt me.
To-day by mail arrived two large packages, both with special delivery stamps on them, a beautiful frock-coat and waistcoat. My dearest L. had sent them to Bonaparte. I hurried out to his house with them. He was out, but I put them in his daughter's hands. He had confided to me his anxiety as to his wedding garments, as he said the wedding being in town he wished to be suitably dressed. I wrote all this to L. and she truly did the impossible in getting them here in time, as she only returned to Washington from the mountains two days ago.
Just before dinner D. arrived, having brought a present of two mallard ducks. I was so charmed to have them, for C. leaves, to my regret, to-morrow. Later I received the check I had been expecting, so that I had the satisfaction and relief of sending for Bonaparte, who had not yet started for Gregory, and fulfilling my promise.
He was radiant. All's well that ends well, I suppose, but I have really suffered from the tension of fearing that the faithful old man was going to be disappointed.
December 9.