A Woman Rice Planter

by Elizabeth W. Allston Pringle

"He that regardeth the clouds shall neither sow nor reap." This text is my great stand-by when things look stormy and I am discouraged. I suppose the rushing river may be considered as in some sort a relation, or at any rate a remote descendant, of the clouds, and I will not regard it, but give Marcus an order to go to work on the bank as soon as possible.

The week after this visit I was sent for by the foreman at Casa Bianca. When I went down, I found every one in a state of unrest and ferment. Nat, one of the renters, had told the others that he had made a special arrangement with me by which he was to do only what he wished to do. Now, one would suppose that no sane person would believe such a statement as this, but I had been seen talking to Nat apart, and they were all prepared to throw up their agreement and go—"contraak" hands and all. It was some time before I found out what the matter was, for even Marcus was entirely upset and talked mysterious nonsense before he finally gave me the key to the situation. I then assembled all the men and told Nat to recount what he had said to me on that occasion and what I had said to him. He pretended to have forgotten. So I related: "You told me your mother wanted to move to town and take your three sisters with her, so that your working force would be diminished, and you would not be able to rent as much this year as you had done, and you would want only eight instead of twelve acres. I told you I was sorry your mother was going, for though she herself no longer worked the girls were good hands. Then I asked you if you remembered when your mother first came to me. You were a very little boy; she was in great distress, having been turned away from the place where she was living, with her large family of little children. All her things had been put out in the road because she had been fighting, and she entreated me to give her a house to stay in. I told her I heard that she was a 'mighty warrior' and stirred up strife wherever she went. But she promised not to 'war' any more, so I gave her a house and she kept her promise, prospered, brought up her large family respectably, and now owned much 'proppity,' cows, oxen, and pigs, and everything she wanted; and the children had all grown up healthy and happy, and I only hoped they might retain their health of soul and body in town."

They all listened attentively while Nat punctuated my narration with "Yes, ma'am," at every comma. Then I said: "Did I say anything more to you, Nat?" "No, ma'am; dat's all." Then indignation broke out on Nat from the assembled hands. "En yo' tole all dem lie fo' mek we fool! I mos' bin gone way," and much more, all talking at once. Nat only looked foolish and said: "I jes' bin a fun." I gave him a serious talk, and the hands scattered in high good humor; but if I had not gone down that day, in all probability the whole party would have packed up their household goods in their ox-carts and left, "contraak" hands and all! Marcus said, with his usual dignity: "Myself, ma'am, bin most turn stupid"—as though no words could express more fully the seriousness of the situation.

She promised not to war any more.

March 12.

Since then things have gone very comfortably and quietly at Casa Bianca. The field I am to plant in April has been well ploughed, the ditches cleaned, and finally the division bank made up splendidly. Across the canal and down to the river it is one foot above "full moon tide." I have twenty-six fine lambs, born in January. At Cherokee, also, I have had some good work done. My "wages field" there was ploughed early in February, so that the frost has had a chance to mellow it. I have ten acres of fine oats growing and ten acres prepared for corn; pigs, cows, and everything doing well, except the lambs. Nine were born in January, but some "varmint," Bonaparte reports, has killed seven. I know the "varmint" is a dog, somebody's treasure, so that it cannot be convicted, and every other animal is suspected,—fox, wildcat; and many strange tracks are talked of.

At Cherokee I had to put down a new trunk, which is quite a business. It requires knowledge of a certain kind, but is very simple, like most things, to those who know. To me it seems a terrible undertaking, for if it is badly done, the trunk may blow out when the field is planted, and ruin the crop. Knowing so little as I do, I thought it best to leave it to Bonaparte, so I did not go over to the place, which is about a mile away through winding creeks.

The tide suited the morning, January 12, and the weather was mild. I waited with great anxiety for the return of the hands in the evening. I rushed down to the barnyard when I heard the boat, and asked if the trunk was well down. Bonaparte smiled in his superior way.