Last week when I went to Casa Bianca to pay off, I took a niece and her two children, who were staying with me, and we had a very pleasant picnic dinner. The four-year-old children had never been in the country, and enjoyed everything, especially the lambs. Jake's home is about 300 yards from Casa Bianca avenue, and at 12 o'clock I told him that he could go and see his mother for two hours, and that I wanted to leave at 3:30 o'clock. Jake, however, did not return till 5:30 o'clock, though I sent after him; and, in his hurry, instead of calling the horses, which had been turned out on the lawn to enjoy the beautiful pasture, he ran them. Some one had left the gate open, and they dashed through it and never stopped running till they reached the gate at Cherokee, eight miles away, leaving me with my party of city friends, the sun setting and no horses to take us home!
Two men on the place owned horses, but they were turned out and could not be got up for some time. Besides, one was a terrible kicker and the other a runaway. I had to act quickly. I said to the old watchman: "Go and tell the man with the fastest ox-team on the place to come here with his cart at once." In a very short time Nat appeared with a large black ox in a little cart of wonderful construction. I did not see how it was possible for a lady, two children, and a maid to get into it; but, apparently, it was the best that could be done. They had walked on, and I told Nat to go as fast as possible and pick up as many of the party as he could carry, and I would follow, as soon as the kicking horse could be put into a buggy, and take the rest. He assured me his cart could carry all, and went off at a rapid trot. After what seemed an age, Marcus came with his kicker, and with the wraps, lunch basket, and other encumbrances I got in and drove rapidly after the party, which was the funniest looking in the world; Nat running alongside and flourishing an immense cowhide lash, A. and the maid seated on a board which was balanced on the sides of the little structure so as to make a seat, the little boy sitting behind with his feet dangling and the little girl tightly clasped in her mother's arms. They had gone four miles in this wonderful fashion. As soon as we caught them, I made A. get out and take the children in the buggy, while I climbed into the ox jumper with the maid and told Marcus to drive home as quickly as possible, as the children should not have been out so late. I had been utterly wretched till I came up with them and found them all unharmed. Then my spirits rose and bubbled over. It struck me that the others were a little quiet, but I never knew the reason until we were all safely enjoying our evening meal. The maid was supposed to be driving, while A. held the little girl and Nat goaded on the ox, and at a very rough bridge the ox stumbled, the maid fell out, and the wheel ran over her, leaving the rest of the party without any hold on the big black ox! A most tragic situation, and such a mercy no one was hurt. It was very good of them not to tell me until afterward, and it was truly magnanimous of the maid to remark to Nat as she extricated herself from the ingenious contrivance, which he had constructed himself: "It surely is the handiest little vehicle I ever did see."
A rice field "flowed."
Saturday. I suddenly awoke to the fact after breakfast this morning that I had a note which was due at the bank to-day. It was pouring, and if I sent a check by mail, it would not be received until Monday, as the mail gets in after business hours. I called Dab and asked him if he thought he could walk down to Gregory and take an important letter to the bank before 2 o'clock. He answered promptly that he could. I got the letter ready and told him he could spend the night with his sisters and return by 1 o'clock to-morrow. He started armed with a large package of lunch and with my best umbrella and a dollar to spend. While I was taking my tea at 6 o'clock, to my surprise Dab walked in with a letter. He said Mr. S— gave him the answer and he thought he had better not go anywhere with that important letter, and so he had come straight back home! I was so pleased and cheered by this evidence of his sense of responsibility and fidelity to a trust. I had felt ill and miserable all day. I told him how pleased I was and thanked him heartily and told Chloe to give him a very fine supper after his walk of twenty-eight miles.
Sunday. I went to church this morning feeling very down, which was wicked, for God's goodness is always there. When I looked around our little church, where a literal Scriptural quorum of two or three was gathered together, my eye was gladdened by the sight of a charming new suit of reseda cloth with a heliotrope toque! Then across the aisle I saw a cinnamon brown suit with a hat to match! Positively my spirits rose at once.
We are so accustomed to our mourning-clad congregation, nearly every one of us wearing black, we all know each other's very respectable costumes from year to year and watch with interest the successful and often ingenious remodelling of sleeves—I being the only recalcitrant who will not cut over sleeves, feeling sure that they will come back into vogue (which they always do before the faithful garment is laid to rest)—we never expect anything so astonishing as a brand-new tailor-made suit, and in colors too, and now to have the eye refreshed by two, is cause for rejoicing.
On Monday, April 18, I planted the wages field at Cherokee. Here we cannot so well use the machines, so I have the field sown by hand. I am planting mill-threshed rice in this field, which is an experiment on my part. In the autumn a buyer for a large rice mill in North Carolina came to make an offer for my rice; and he spoke of the "superstition," as he called it, of planters in this state that only hand-whipped rice could be planted to make good crops. He said the large crops made in Texas and Louisiana, which are practically ruining the rice industry in this section by keeping down the price, are the result of mill-threshed rice—none other is known or thought of. This made a great impression on me, for the whipping by hand is a very expensive process, more so than the actual cost of the work, because it gives such unlimited opportunity for stealing.
I had the habit formerly of planting twenty-five acres and dividing the rice; twelve and a half acres I sent to the threshing mill in a lighter, the other twelve and a half I had taken into the barnyard, stacked, and when thoroughly cured, had it whipped out for seed. The half sent to mill always turned out from twenty-five to thirty-five bushels to the acre; the part saved for seed turned out from fifteen to twenty bushels to the acre.