Late
It has been difficult to find a few hours alone. To sit in my chair by the fireplace...that privilege comes only now and then. I think I will write an item for the papers, to increase morale, to lessen the influence of detractors. I will begin it...
Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith dare to do our duty...
White House
December 5
Tonight I wish I could eat an apple but there does not seem to be one in the White House. Peaches and apples—they are my favorites, eaten in front of a fireplace. What an appetite I used to have. I used to think that the best food in the world was bread and honey—honey in the comb on plain bread.
I rang the kitchen for a bowl of popcorn.
Pretty soon that Greek goddess of the Potomac, little Miss Rosie, who is the perfect mulatto, traipsed in, holding the green bowl she loves, balancing it on a silver tray, the tray she thinks belonged to George Washington.
“Heah you is, Mistaaaa President...popcohnnnn, wid plenty a fresh-churned buttaaaah.”