"It is tied into sheaves, which the negroes do very skilfully, with a wisp of the rice itself."
November 4.
Reports from Casa Bianca are terrible. The gale of east wind we have had forced in the sea water till it swept over the banks, and only the tops of the stacks are to be seen above the water and it is still raining. Marcus had to put a boat in the fields and he paddled down over all the banks to examine the condition of the rice in Marshfield.
November 7.
To-day I moved from the pineland to the plantation (Cherokee). There has been no ice, but we have had three heavy frosts and I think the vegetation sufficiently killed to make it safe.
November 10.
A glorious day after all the rain. I have not written for some days because things are too depressing all around me. When they get very bad I cannot bear to write them down. Saturday I paid out $75, the amount it usually takes to put Marshfield in the barn-yard, and it is still in the field. The turning and drying of the rice have been very expensive. To-day I went down and was much relieved to see it in such good condition. Marcus greeted me with that subtle flattery of which the darkies are masters, a cheerful, respectful, hearty greeting and then, "Miss, de Laud mus' be love yer, ma'am! I neber see sech ting, I was shock wen I see de rice, fu' it ain't damage none tall, yes, ma'am de Laud must sho'ly love yer!" I expressed my gratitude for the great mercy, for indeed it looks wonderfully well. One flat, the Sarah, was loaded to-day. She was to have had eight acres put in, but when they got seven on she began to leak and no more could be put on. I have ordered hands down from Cherokee to bring her up the river by hand, for she is leaking too much to be left loaded until Saturday, when I have ordered the tug to tow the others up.
