I think I shall accept Mr. Philbrick's offer. I wish to stay down here, and I see no satisfactory way of so doing, except by this arrangement. It may turn out disastrously,—so be it; the Government will probably refund the purchase-money in case the lands return to the Confederate States either by capture or compromise. But with success, I doubt if I should realize the amount of my present salary and support. If the lands sell at a nominal price, however, they are worth that risk. To stay in the work is my object.
I am having a pretty hard time at present. The people are very wayward,—now they work and then they stop,—and some stop before they begin. Several men have been acting badly, too; I actually knocked a man down the other day,—and think I did right,—for the first time in my life. It very much hurts one's popularity to be often severe,—and one's reputation with higher authorities also, I fear. My places have the disadvantage—to me—of being very near headquarters, and my people have learned through a very unwise act—the removal of a superintendent on the complaint of the negroes—the benefit of appealing from me. I have always been sustained—otherwise I should probably have resigned; but it very much weakens my authority, and, as I said, probably my reputation. But the worst is that it discourages and dulls one for the work.
FROM H. W.
Jan. 7. I went into Ellen's house to see her sick children. It was her children who were so sick last summer, and Nancy died. They had swollen throats and I promised red flannel—then went all through the quarters talking and giving to all the old women some of our ration coffee and sugar. The women went on talking, Louisa winding up with an attempt to solve the to them great mystery—"Miss Hayiat, you not married? when you going to be married? What, and you so smairt?" C. says they are constantly asking him the same question. "Oh, Mass' Charlie," said a woman to him the other day, "if I was as pretty a woman as you are a man I should be so glad!" I find I shall have to give up going to the quarters if they insist upon giving me so many eggs—I had two dozen and a half given to-day—I can't use them up so fast! I found C. in colloquy with a man who came down to see if he could not move here so as to be under him. "But how do you know you shall like me?" said C., "and get along with me?" "See it in your countenance, sar, first time I eber see you!" Nat talked some time (he was a sort of Major Domo here and kept the keys) about the necessity of some white people's staying here, and of the people's confidence in Mr. Philbrick and C. They are very desirous that Mr. Philbrick should buy. "You see, sar; you won't have no trouble 'bout cotton dis year—Mr. Philbrick pay more money than any other man—de people know now you here to see justice. People all work cotton dis year. I don't care if you neber go 'way—like you much."
Jan. 8. General Saxton said he was here on the Coast Survey seven years ago, cut that gap through the trees for his triangles, which caused us so much speculation last spring,[96] and landing at the Point one day dined here with Mr. Coffin.
Jan. 12. Just as we were going to sit down to lunch, Tim came running up with a line from C. for his revolver, which I sent. Tim said two of the men were fighting, so Mr. Philbrick[97] took his pistol and went to see what was the row, and soon came back to say that a former husband of the woman who had been married the day before at church had turned up, and C. had ordered him off the place. It is a complicated story and I do not know its merits and demerits. I wish C. would write it out as a specimen of that part of his business. It is equal to Indian Cutchery.
Jan 16. Woke to find it very blowy and cold. The changes seem to be as great here as in New England, of their kind. It is funny to see how the people feel the cold. I got no milk, because they could not milk in such weather, and it was so warm the day before that all we had soured. The children wore sheets over their shoulders and handkerchiefs on their heads to school.
Jan 17. Went to the quarters to see the people, who wondered to see me out such a cold day! Found those who were out of doors on the sunny side of the street against the houses to keep warm.
This afternoon I had to sew up a bad cut in Hester's arm. She sat all through school without a word to me, and then I could not close the wound with sticking-plaster, so there was no alternative. She behaved like a Spartan—her black skin made it easier for me, but not for her, I fancy. So much for my first attempt at surgery. It was an ugly job.