November 7.
The time for paying the taxes will soon be passed, and all the negroes on the place have asked me to pay their taxes in addition to my own, so that I must sell some rice. Took samples to our county town; I was told they were very good rice, but no one wished to buy. I was offered, however, 82½ cents a bushel for one and 85 cents for the other! I sold the smaller lot for 82½ and determined to hold the larger part, for I feel confident rice must go up by February, and I do so want to get $1 a bushel for it, for then I will pay out, but otherwise not, after all my work.
November 12.
Peaceville has been wrought up to a state of wild excitement. On Sunday afternoon, when I was expecting my little class, only Kitty and the Philosopher and Squeaky came, and before I could ask where the others were they burst out:—
"All the others have gone to hear the lion roar, and to see if they could get a peep at him."
"A lion? Here?" My tone was suitable to the subject.
"Yes, ma'am; they put up three big tents while we were in church this morning, right in front of the post-office."
I praised them for coming under such heavy temptations, but they exclaimed in chorus: "We didn't want to come—mamma made us; we wanted to hear the lion roar, too." At which I was more pleased than ever, and was as rapid as possible with the lessons and told no story, though I thought Daniel in the lions' den might suit the occasion; but I soon saw that they could listen to nothing under such phenomenal circumstances. A very feeble Punch and Judy is the greatest show seen here before.
We sang the hymns, I gave each one an apple, and said I would walk down with them to the tents. A most delightful progress we made, every one having turned out to see the unwonted sight.
Before we got to my gate the King of the Forest began to roar tremendously and kept it up, to the awe and delight of the humans and the dismay of the animals. Cows refused to come up to be milked, but fled to the swamp, and horses cowered in their stalls.