A Woman Rice Planter

by Elizabeth W. Allston Pringle

The company which planted the places next to Cherokee has broken up. One of the principal investors told me that he had had his money in it for seven years, and never got a cent of interest, and he was thankful to get out of it. They have taken all my best hands, one by one, but they have not succeeded—did not make money for all that. And this year the price of rice has gone down, so that what has been made brings only half of what was hoped for.

I believe these lands would make a great deal if we understood the cutting and curing of hay, for the grass grows most luxuriantly if the land is ploughed and left, but the curing of hay is unknown to the rice-field darky.

Our uplands are very fertile and adapted to any crop, it seems. Last year a few tried cotton and did very well without any commercial fertilizer. The only trouble is the nice cultivation cotton requires. I had a little planted. We did very well and sold at 15½, but I am afraid to plant more than an acre or two, as I cannot get it kept clean, which is essential to cotton.

The freshet, which we always look for after the melting of the snows in the mountains, has not yet come. We had one a month ago, but now it has subsided, and the rush of preparation for planting should go on; but I find it impossible to enthuse my renters. A lethargy seems to have fallen upon them, and if I only had the money, I would plant all the available land myself. But that is a very big if, and I must just have patience and try to rouse their energy. Above me there are only a very few acres planted, as the freshet is more disastrous the higher up the river you go. About two miles above me is a historic plantation, where Marion made a very narrow escape from his British pursuers by jumping into a canoe and pushing up a small creek, while the British, after some delay in getting a boat, rowed, as they thought, after him, but followed the bold, wide stream of the Thoroughfare, which took them rapidly away from him.

This is the home of a very remarkable woman, who has, by her own exertions, educated her sisters and brothers and paid off the mortgage on the plantation. The family was wealthy and accustomed to the liberal use of money, but when the end of the war came, they found themselves with nothing but the land, not a cent to plant or to buy food. This young girl received a present of a small sum of money from a relative in England, which she invested in supplies that every one was in need of, opened a small store, and as fast as she sold out reinvested the money; showing wonderful cleverness and strength and perseverance. She has been the only stay of a large family, always ready to throw herself in the breach and pay anything that was needed. After buying the place in, she planted successfully for one or two years. Then the freshets began, and, after two or three very disastrous years of loss, she showed her good judgment by giving up planting altogether, and all that splendid rice land, under the finest, heaviest banks, is just returning to its original condition of swamp, growing up in cypress. She has land also covered with splendid timber, which must eventually be of great value, but as yet the money value of such things has not reached us, and the little shop continues to support a large family in their beautiful historic home, where with lovely flowers and beautiful oaks, every fence and hedge covered at this season with the glowing, sweet-smelling yellow jessamine, she leads a useful, contented, beautiful life, a blessing to all around.

I mentioned in my last letter that I had lost my good Jim, who had been with me fifteen years. I tried in vain to fill his place, but there was no one to be had that was reliable; so I got a mountaineer in August, paying his way down from the Blue Ridge. He promised well, but on the fifth day he was seized with nostalgia, and I had to drive him the eighteen miles to the railroad and put him on a train to return to his beloved mountains.

I would have had to return the eighteen miles alone on the road had I not met Jim, who was as pleased to see me as I was to see him; for the town life which his wife so loves is odious to Jim, and he asked permission to return to me until I got some one.

Being a person not easily daunted, I again engaged a mountaineer, not finding it possible to get a good darky, paid his way down and had Jim show him all his duties, the roads, etc., and he seemed a very hopeful person; and Jim returned to the hated town, satisfied as to my having competent help. Mountaineer number two showed no trace of homesickness for four months; but then suddenly, one day, it took him. It was no surprise to me. I knew it would come, and had got a black boy as help in case of emergency; so that when the attack came, I had Jake get the wagon and drive us to town, and I put mountaineer number two on the train. Then I increased Jake's wages and put him in charge of the stable.