ex 
 
 
 - 
 
This book is made and sold to benefit the Scholar- 
 ship founded by 
 The Springfield Hampton Club 
 in memory of 
 ELIZABETH MITCHELL AMES 
 
 FOR SALE AT 
 
 JOHNSON'S BOOKSTORE 
 
 Main Street 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/fromnewenglandwoames 
 
From A NEW ENGLAND 
 WOMAN'S DIARY in DIXIE 
 
 in 1865 
 
 By 
 
 MARY AMES 
 
 SPRINGFIELD 
 
 1906 
 
Copyright, 1906 
 By Mary Ames 
 
 The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U. S. A. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Some of Miss Ames's friends, who 
 have enjoyed listening to the stories 
 of her southern school life, have fre- 
 quently begged her to print them. 
 
 This opportunity of helping to edu- 
 cate a pupil in that wonderful school, 
 which is so great a contrast to the scene 
 of her early efforts, has decided her to 
 allow the diary to be prepared for 
 publication. 
 
 In making this gift to Hampton, she 
 emphasizes her first gift to the negro 
 of eighteen months' service, and per- 
 petuates the memory of the sister who 
 was her closest friend and dearest com- 
 
Introduction 
 
 panion, and whom Springfield will long 
 remember as strong and brave and 
 helpful; but especially will she be re- 
 membered for "her wit that woke their 
 laughter and left a kindly glow." 
 Even the boy who left the daily paper 
 at her door felt her kindness and 
 "caught the secret of her character." 
 
 On the day of her funeral, in June, 
 1903, he left three roses at the house, 
 with the following words: 
 
 " ' She doeth little kindnesses 
 
 Which most leave undone or despise; 
 For naught that sets one heart at ease 
 And giveth happiness and peace 
 Is low esteemed in her eyes.' 
 
 From the morning newsboy, for whom she 
 placed out such splendid apples." 
 
 June, 1906. E. L. C. 
 
 VI 
 
FROM A NEW ENGLAND 
 WOMAN'S DIARY IN 
 
 DIXIE IN 1865 
 
 Miss Ware, of Cambridge, came to 
 Springfield to visit Mrs. Farrar. The 
 story of her experiences with the col- 
 ored people in the South was so in- 
 teresting that my friend Emily Bliss 
 and I became enthusiastic to follow 
 her example. 
 
 We went to Boston, saw the chief of 
 the Freedmen's Bureau, were exam- 
 ined, and enrolled as teachers. 
 
 We were ordered to leave at once for 
 Hilton Head, and report to Mr. Dodge, 
 the agent there. Our families ridi- 
 
A New England TVoman* s 
 
 culed our going and tried to stop us, 
 prophesying our return in less than a 
 month. We made our preparations, 
 which were not elaborate, — a chair, a 
 plate, knife, fork and spoon; cup and 
 saucer, blanket, sheets and pillow- 
 cases, and sacking for a bed of hay or 
 straw to be found wherever we should 
 be situated, and we added some crack- 
 ers, tea, and a teapot. 
 
 We sailed from New York on the 
 steamer Fulton, May i, 1865, and after 
 a pleasant sail reached Hilton Head 
 on the morning of the fourth day. 
 
 We landed after breakfast, and 
 walked to the place where we took the 
 oath of allegiance to the United States. 
 We called upon Mr. Dodge, and found 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 with him five or six teachers. We 
 were not cordially received, and evi- 
 dently were not wanted, and were ad- 
 vised to proceed to Charleston and 
 report to Mr. Redpath, who was in 
 charge of the Freedmen's Bureau there. 
 
 We met a Mr. Blake from New 
 Haven, a pleasant young man, who 
 offered to escort us to Charleston. He 
 is employed by the Boston society to 
 look after forlorn females who come 
 as teachers. 
 
 At eight in the evening, we left Hil- 
 ton Head on a small steamer loaded 
 with soldiers on their way to Charles- 
 ton, to be discharged from service. 
 There was no place for us. We had 
 to sit the long night through, on a 
 3 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 bench with no back, surrounded by 
 soldiers smoking, playing cards, and 
 telling stories — the longest night I 
 ever knew. 
 
 Arriving at Charleston early in the 
 morning, we were taken to Mr. Red- 
 path's office. He being absent, Mr. 
 Pillsbury, of Massachusetts, came to 
 meet us. He gave us a most cordial 
 greeting. 
 
 Emily, weary, discouraged, and 
 homesick, threw herself sobbing into 
 his arms, saying, "Oh! sir, have you 
 a wife?" 
 
 At once, he took in the situation, 
 called an ambulance, and put us in 
 charge of a sergeant with a note to his 
 
 wife. 
 
 4 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 Mrs. Pillsbury, a lovely, motherly 
 woman, took us in and made us com- 
 fortable. They were living in one of 
 the most elegant mansions in Charles- 
 ton; the furniture, pictures, and orna- 
 ments were all as their owner had left 
 them. The garden was a delight; I 
 never saw finer roses. 
 
 Mr. Redpath came to see us in the 
 evening, wished us to remain in the 
 city and teach in the public schools, 
 and was quite disturbed and disap- 
 pointed that we objected. We felt 
 that we were not fitted for regular 
 teaching. We were then offered a 
 position on one of the islands where 
 several thousand negroes were sent 
 after Sherman's march. That suited 
 5 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 us, and we were ordered to leave in 
 two days. 
 
 Meanwhile, we visited different 
 schools, and saw how un fitted we were 
 for teachers. 
 
 May io, 1865. 
 
 At one o'clock we left Charleston 
 on the propeller Hudson, for Edisto 
 Island. Sailing along the shore and 
 up Edisto River, we reached the land- 
 ing-place just at sunset. 
 
 It seemed like fairy land — every- 
 thing so fresh and green — the air so 
 soft. 
 
 We brought on the boat a hundred 
 and fifty negroes, who, as soon as they 
 landed, built fires to cook their supper; 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 the live-oaks in the background, with 
 their hanging moss, had a very pictur- 
 esque effect. 
 
 We spent the night on the boat, the 
 captain giving us his stateroom. We 
 had a visit from a Mrs. Webb and one 
 of the officers of the 32d Regulars, 
 colored infantry, two companies of 
 which are stationed here to protect the 
 island from guerrillas. We were asked 
 to breakfast at headquarters, about 
 half a mile from the landing. 
 
 May ii. 
 
 At seven we started for camp, which 
 was on the plantation formerly owned 
 by William Seabrook. They gave us a 
 good breakfast; then the Colonel placed 
 
 7 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 at our disposal a large army wagon, 
 drawn by four horses, to take us with 
 our trunks and boxes to find a place to 
 live. The drive was delightful, the 
 road shaded and cool, winding under 
 immense live-oak trees covered with 
 moss; the wild grape was in bloom, 
 and the air filled with its perfume. 
 We passed several houses crowded with 
 negroes, and could not make up our 
 minds to stop at any. We drove on 
 some three or four miles further and, 
 as it began to be very warm and un- 
 comfortable, we decided to stop at the 
 very next house, negroes or no negroes. 
 Soon we reached what must have once 
 been a pretty avenue, now rather for- 
 lorn. Driving in, we found negro 
 8 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 cabins on either side, and a large house 
 at the end. 
 
 The inhabitants of the cabins came 
 flocking out to welcome us with how- 
 dys, and offers of service to the 
 missis. The former owner of the 
 plantation was Dr. Whaley, the pos- 
 sessor of a hundred slaves, many of 
 whom were now returned and living 
 in the cabins. He deserted the place 
 four years before, and the house had 
 a desolate appearance — the windows 
 gone, and shutters hanging by one 
 hinge. Our trunks, box, and chairs 
 were placed on the piazza and the 
 army wagon was driven away. We 
 looked at each other; our hearts were 
 full, and if we could have seen any 
 9 
 
A New England JV^omari* s 
 
 honorable way to escape and go home 
 we certainly should have gone. 
 
 However, we choked down our feel- 
 ings, and the front door being opened 
 by a black man and a woman, with 
 half a dozen children hanging to her 
 skirts, we entered our home to be. 
 The rooms were large and airy (minus 
 windows), but filled with sticks, plaster 
 from the ceilings, and dirt of all kinds. 
 We selected two rooms and asked if 
 they could be cleared and cleaned. 
 Uncle Jack and Aunt Phoebe, who lived 
 in one of the cabins, came to our as- 
 sistance, and having no brooms, mops, 
 or any conveniences for cleaning, man- 
 aged with the gray moss to wipe off 
 
 the upper dust from the floors; then 
 10 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 dashing on cold water, and with their 
 feet shuffling the moss, contrived to 
 wash the floors decently clean. 
 
 Meanwhile, the woman, Sarah, made 
 the tea, which, with some crackers, we 
 took out of our trunk; — and this, the 
 first meal in our new home, we ate on 
 the piazza. It was fortunate that we 
 had chairs. The bedsteads were acci- 
 dentally left behind in New York, but 
 were to be sent on the next steamer. 
 We spread our bed-sacks on the floor 
 after it was dry, for we soon learned 
 there was neither hay nor straw to be 
 had to fill them, covered them with 
 our waterproofs, and, as we had blan- 
 kets and pillows, our beds were soon 
 
 ready. 
 
 ii 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 About sundown Mr. Blake appeared, 
 and with him two young women teach- 
 ers, also members of the Freedmen's 
 Bureau. They brought a few black- 
 berries, picked by the roadside, which 
 were a welcome addition to our crackers 
 and tea. On our way up-stairs to bed, 
 we were met by an angry old woman, 
 who said we had taken possession of 
 her quarters, and must pay her for 
 them. We were frightened, and ex- 
 plained that we were sent by the United 
 States Government, and must be re- 
 spected accordingly. She went away, 
 but soon began to throw stones and 
 pieces of crockery into our open win- 
 dows. We were alarmed, for we did 
 
 not know how many were leagued with 
 12 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 her. It began to rain and a heavy 
 thunder shower soon dispersed our 
 assailants. But sleep was impossible. 
 Having no doors to close, we did not 
 know what might happen in a strange 
 land among strange people. I got out 
 the hammer we had brought in our 
 box and kept it in my hand all night, 
 ready to beat out the brains of any one 
 attacking us. 
 
 May 12. 
 
 The first thing we did this morn- 
 ing was to get our flag hung out in 
 front of the house. It is quite large 
 and floated out finely. The ne- 
 groes appeared glad to see it. We 
 unpacked the big box, turning it on 
 J 3 
 
A New England TVomari ' s 
 
 its side to serve for a table and wash- 
 stand. 
 
 Jim and Sarah, with six children, 
 are living in the back part of this house. 
 We are glad to have them for protec- 
 tion, and find them useful. 
 
 Sarah is a fine-looking woman, quiet 
 and sensible. She has always been 
 a house-servant, was born and reared 
 in Richmond, was sold with three 
 children to Dr. Leavitt of Charleston, 
 leaving the father of her children in 
 Richmond. Since that, she has had six 
 children, having had five husbands, or 
 men with whom she was obliged to live, 
 as she was sold from one master to 
 another. Jim was the last one. At 
 the beginning of the war, Sarah and 
 H 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 her children were sent with her mis- 
 tress to Sumterville. 
 
 When Sherman and his army came 
 along, Sarah was told by her mistress 
 that if she followed the army she must 
 take all her children, not thinking she 
 would go. 
 
 When the mistress found that Jim 
 and Sarah were actually going, she 
 asked one of the Union officers to make 
 Sarah stay behind. He told her he 
 had no power to do that; the woman 
 was free and could act her own pleasure. 
 
 Sarah had a mind to stay on, as her 
 mistress had always treated her kindly, 
 but Jim insisted on joining Sherman's 
 train. Just before they left, one Sat- 
 urday Campbell, who had been one of 
 15 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 Sarah's five husbands, and was the 
 father of her child Anne, came and 
 claimed Sarah. Jim fought and con- 
 quered him, thus winning Sarah and 
 her children. They walked nearly a 
 hundred miles, Sarah carrying Mar- 
 gery, a two-year-old child, in her arms. 
 She kept the other children in front of 
 her, for many lost their children. 
 
 After dinner of tea and crackers, 
 which was our breakfast and supper 
 also for nearly three weeks, we visited 
 our neighbors. Their faces shone when 
 we told them why we had come. They 
 all seemed decent and sensible crea- 
 tures. 
 
 We learn that there are ten thousand 
 16 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 negroes here. The officers and the 
 teachers are the only white people 
 allowed on the island, except the com- 
 missary, who is four miles away. 
 
 The negroes go to him once a month 
 for rations. Sherman's plan is to 
 have the negroes take care of them- 
 selves; they have planted corn, 
 beans, and cotton, and are to repay 
 the Government when their crops are 
 gathered. This seems to be under- 
 stood by all. 
 
 We walked down the road to a 
 church, which bore marks of destruc- 
 tion similar to those of our house. 
 The frame of the organ remains, the 
 windows are gone, doors off their 
 hinges, and pews mutilated, but we 
 17 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 decided that it would serve our pur- 
 pose well as a school-house. 
 
 We have announced that we will 
 open school Monday. Many of the 
 older blacks ask if they are too old to 
 learn to read. They cannot come to 
 school during the day as it is planting 
 time, so we have promised to have an 
 evening school at the house twice a 
 week. 
 
 We have engaged Sarah, for five or 
 six dollars a month, to wash, iron, and 
 do the little cooking we shall have. 
 
 Her second son, Zack, about four- 
 teen, is to wait upon us. He was 
 with Dr. Leavitt, at Fort Sumter, and 
 one day a horse on which he was rid- 
 ing was killed by a Union shell. 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 At the sutler's we found a man 
 who is both baker and carpenter. He 
 is to put locks or bolts on our doors, 
 and to set some window glass. 
 
 All the negroes we have seen are 
 industrious, and their cabins look neat. 
 We found plum trees loaded with fruit 
 all along the way, and plenty of black- 
 berries. 
 
 May 13. 
 
 Mr. Blake came to see if he could be 
 of service. He, with the aid of Jim, 
 took our big packing-box and made us 
 a table to eat from, and a bench to sit 
 upon at meal time, so that we need 
 not bring our chairs down from the 
 bedrooms. Chairs are a great luxury. 
 19 
 
A New England W r oman > s 
 
 In the afternoon, we walked to the 
 "Mikell Place," two miles away, where 
 live two teachers, also belonging to 
 the Freedmen's Bureau, — Miss Kemp- 
 ton, from New Bedford, and Miss 
 Stanton, from Framingham. Their 
 house was large, dirty, and dilapidated. 
 About a well in a large courtyard in 
 front of the house, several blacks 
 with tubs were doing their week's 
 washing. 
 
 Returning, we met many people com- 
 ing from the commissary with their 
 rations. Some had sacks, others boxes 
 or tubs on their heads. They asked 
 if we had rations, and being told that 
 we had not yet been supplied, they 
 
 lowered their tubs and offered to give 
 20 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 us some of theirs. We thought them 
 very generous. 
 
 Sunday, May 14. 
 
 A beautiful day, though rather warm. 
 We started for church, but to our sur- 
 prise met the congregation coming 
 away. There was to be a funeral at 
 a distance, and the minister had to 
 omit the church service. Later we 
 saw the procession, a long one. They 
 were singing a melancholy dirge as 
 they walked. As they passed, they 
 spoke to us, the men touching their 
 hats, and the women curtsying. 
 
 Seating ourselves on the steps of a 
 
 deserted house, we soon had a crowd 
 
 about us. One girl amused us — a 
 21 
 
A New England JVornari* s 
 
 regular Topsy, who had come from 
 Georgia with Sherman. She exam- 
 ined our clothes, got behind Emily, 
 felt of her dress, and said, "Big plaits 
 in skirts are just coming into style." 
 The fashion had reached the South, 
 and all the ladies had been changing 
 their skirts. 
 
 Then catching sight of the "water- 
 fall" on my head, she was amazed, 
 and said, "Rebel ladies don't know 
 how to make them." 
 
 Monday, May 15. 
 
 The weather is much the same that 
 we have in June, cool mornings and 
 evenings, warm in the middle of the 
 
 day. 
 
 22 
 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 We opened school at nine o'clock, 
 with fifteen scholars, nine boys, and 
 six girls. Some were decently clad, 
 others filthy and nearly naked. One 
 or two knew their letters. None could 
 read. We dismissed early, as the chil- 
 dren seemed tired and we were de- 
 cidedly weary. 
 
 On the way home we met the old 
 woman who threw crockery at our 
 windows the night of our arrival. She 
 told us she was "great on religion," 
 and read us a long sermon — how to 
 live that we might die when called — 
 and ended by saying she was "as poor 
 as Job's turkey." When asked how 
 poor that was, she said he had but 
 one feather, and that all she had 
 23 
 
A New England JVomarfs 
 
 was on her back, and mighty little of 
 that. 
 
 We have hired boys to collect and 
 cure the gray moss for our bed-sacks. 
 At any rate, it will be better than the 
 bare boards, on which we are now 
 lying. 
 
 May i 6. 
 
 Passing a tumbled-down house on 
 
 our way to school, we heard hammers, 
 
 and going in, found some men making 
 
 a coffin out of the boards. During 
 
 school, we saw them back of the church 
 
 digging the grave, hoeing out the dirt 
 
 with their large cotton hoes (their only 
 
 implement). 
 
 We had twenty-eight scholars. Two 
 24 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 of the new ones can read. This is 
 pleasanter than teaching ABC. Two 
 children, John and Eliza, came five 
 miles to school. John was fourteen 
 and a bright boy. He was nearly 
 naked, and so filthy that I did not 
 think I could have him near me, and 
 advised him to go into the creek to 
 bathe. 
 
 Every noon I take home with me a 
 troop of children, to whom I give 
 thread, needles, and pieces of cloth, 
 that they may have their garments 
 patched at home. We are trying to 
 teach cleanliness as well as reading 
 and spelling, but it is a tough job, for 
 the poor creatures have lived so long 
 in a filthy condition that they don't 
 25 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 know what it is to be clean. Soon 
 after we reached home, Eliza came run- 
 ning to tell us that her brother John 
 had been drowned in the creek. He 
 went in with several others, got be- 
 yond his depth and did not know how 
 to swim. The tide, which was coming 
 in, is very strong just at that point, 
 and John was carried beyond the 
 reach of those with him. It was a 
 terrible shock to us, and I felt partly 
 responsible. 
 
 Our dinner was excellent. We had 
 hominy, brought by a man we met on 
 the road one day, and one of our chil- 
 dren caught some crabs, which Sarah 
 
 boiled. We feel as if we had had a 
 
 26 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 _v 
 
 sumptuous feast — such a change from 
 tea and crackers! 
 
 There is an open fireplace in Sarah's 
 room, where she makes our tea in a 
 small tin cup, which we brought from 
 home, and boils hominy in — I don't 
 know what, — nor do I ask. At night 
 all the family (six children) stretch 
 themselves on the floor in front of the 
 fire, and so sleep. They have no 
 bedding of any kind, neither chairs 
 nor tables. They have a bowl, one 
 plate, and one spoon. At meal-times 
 they take turns in using these. They 
 sit on the floor of the piazza; a portion 
 is put into the bowl, — hominy or 
 beans with a tiny bit of salt pork, — 
 
 and they eat by turns. The children 
 
 27 
 
A New England JVoman's 
 
 are well behaved. George, the eldest 
 boy, is religious and dull; Zack, our 
 waiter boy, is a high-flier; Charlotte, 
 quiet and not well; Ann, a pert piece, 
 bright-eyed and devoted to us. Ben 
 is a nice, chubby little fellow, who will 
 go to school and can't keep awake. 
 Ann flies at him every few minutes, 
 and shakes him up. Margery, two 
 years old, is a pretty little creature. 
 
 To-day I found a singular insect on 
 my neck. We have been warned we 
 should meet with such enemies, but 
 this is the first of this kind. Wood- 
 ticks we have already had, mosquitoes 
 and fleas are yet to come. 
 
 28 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 May 17. 
 
 A very warm morning. We find 
 our half-mile walk to school tiresome. 
 A large school, sixty-six scholars, and 
 rather unruly. Poor Emily is not 
 adapted to deal with rough boys. I 
 am obliged to go to her aid and, stamp- 
 ing my feet and shouting my commands, 
 bring them to order. We are teaching 
 the children the days of the week, the 
 months, and also to count. 
 
 Mr. Blake visited the school, and 
 we had a call also from the colored 
 Baptist minister, who has a school 
 somewhere on the island. 
 
 He asked to what denomination we 
 
 belonged. He had never heard of 
 
 Unitarians and asked what was our 
 29 
 
A New England IVomatfs 
 
 belief. We told him, and then he 
 asked us to teach in his Sunday school, 
 which we agreed to do in the fall when 
 it is cooler. 
 
 Mr. Redpath has issued a mandate 
 forbidding the reading of the Bible in 
 school — no religious exercise except 
 saying the Lord's Prayer. 
 
 John's body has been washed up 
 by the tide and recovered. 
 
 May i 8. 
 
 Mr. Blake made a blackboard for 
 us, wasting several eggs and nearly all 
 our ink before he succeeded. 
 
 Jim killed a snake, which he called 
 a chicken snake, as they come where 
 there are chickens. Our neighbors 
 30 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 have many chickens so tame that they 
 are in our house constantly. Last 
 week a big rattlesnake was killed in 
 our garden, and a huge black snake in 
 our yard. We have seen only one, 
 and that the children called a glass 
 snake, for when struck it flew into 
 many pieces all wriggling and alive. 
 We see lizards everywhere. 
 
 Six new scholars. A woman came 
 with a prayer-book, asking to be taught 
 to read it. We told her we would 
 teach her willingly, but it would be 
 some time before she could read that. 
 She was satisfied, and as she was leav- 
 ing, put her hand under her apron 
 and brought out two eggs — one she 
 put in Emily's lap, the other in mine. 
 3 1 
 
A New England W^omarfs 
 
 Our first rations came to-day, brought 
 by the men from headquarters. A 
 large box — a soap-box — with beans 
 at the bottom, covered by a piece of 
 dirty paper, then a layer of brown 
 sugar, and on top of all a bar of soap 
 and six candles. Some ground coffee 
 in a paper, a smaller bag with fat 
 bacon and salt pork, and a half barrel 
 of flour. 
 
 Emily came down and viewed the 
 
 lot, burst into tears and wished that 
 
 the grave we had seen hoed out at the 
 
 church was to lay her in. Poor Emily! 
 
 I was disheartened, but knew we must 
 
 make the best of it. We walked up to 
 
 the sutler's, who said he would take 
 
 all we did not want, and give us in 
 32 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 exchange from his stores. We got 
 condensed milk, butter, cornmeal, 
 and other things, and Sarah cooked 
 us a royal supper. We felt better 
 after a decent meal, and Emily con- 
 cluded to live a while longer. 
 
 Later a woman came in suffering 
 severe pain. We administered cay- 
 enne tea sweetened with brown sugar, 
 and she was relieved. 
 
 The evening was delightfully cool. 
 We had our first evening school for 
 men and women on our piazza. It 
 was well attended, all sitting on the 
 floor and steps. One woman, who 
 was much bent with rheumatism, and 
 seemed very old, said she was "Mighty 
 anxious to know something." 
 33 
 
A New England IVomari* s 
 
 Late in the evening Dr. Mason 
 came to tell us that Jefferson Davis, 
 Stevens, and Clay had been taken 
 prisoners in Georgia and sent North. 
 
 May 19. 
 
 School went off very well — boys 
 less noisy. A man came in and sat 
 at the back of the church to listen to 
 our teaching, and the boys thought 
 we had engaged him to whip them if 
 they misbehaved. We have found out 
 that the boys are afraid of their fathers, 
 who are "Great on licking," so we shall 
 threaten to report them if they are 
 unruly. 
 
 The ivy round our house is beauti- 
 ful; the lower part of the building is 
 34 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 covered. We have got the men to 
 trim up the trees in our avenue, and 
 to hoe out the road. On either side 
 of our door are clove trees, full of fruit, 
 and in the yard we have found a 
 Cape Jessamine in full flower and a 
 white Crepe Myrtle. We are trying 
 to get more sun on the house. 
 
 May 20, Saturday. 
 
 No school, and we devote the day 
 to house-cleaning. We feel so much 
 better for having more food. Crackers 
 and tea are not strength-giving. Dr. 
 Mason came in the large army wagon, 
 bringing us from Beaufort a stove, tea- 
 kettle, and coffee-pot. We cannot have 
 our stove put up, as Jim, our Prime 
 35 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 Minister, is having toothache and can- 
 not attend to matters. We already 
 see a change in the appearance of 
 our scholars. They are cleaner, and 
 though wearing the same garments 
 the rents are sewed up and patches 
 are put on. 
 
 May 21. 
 
 Lieutenant Jenkins, who with Mrs. 
 Webb had invited us to spend the day 
 in the camp, came for us in his car- 
 riage. The three-mile drive was 
 beautiful. We did not half appreciate 
 it the day we came. The six officers, 
 who were smoking on the piazza, gave 
 us a cordial greeting. 
 
 At the end of a shady walk back of 
 
 3 6 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 the house are the fish and terrapin 
 ponds. Around the fish pond is a 
 broad carriage drive shaded by im- 
 mense oak trees. A lovely grove of 
 large trees beyond was approached by 
 an avenue of tall laurels, planted so 
 closely that they formed a thick hedge 
 on either side, and met over our heads, 
 shutting out completely the rays of the 
 sun. At four o'clock we went out to see 
 the dress parade of the colored soldiers. 
 
 May 23. 
 
 Nearly the whole school escorted us 
 home to-day. 
 
 We sat on the piazza, and dealt out 
 needles, thread, combs, and dresses 
 from Mrs. Pillsbury's store. 
 37 
 
A New England JVomari* s 
 
 One girl brought back a dress she 
 had taken home, for "Ma says it don't 
 fit, and she don't want it." It was 
 rather large and rather short, but she 
 was very dirty and ragged, and we told 
 her she must keep it. Another girl 
 promised to bring us a chicken if she 
 could have a dress. We gave her one, 
 and she soon came back with six eggs. 
 
 We live with hens, pigs, and quan- 
 tities of rabbits, which the children 
 have for pets. Occasionally, a rabbit 
 is killed and eaten. 
 
 Jim has put up our stove; the pipe 
 being too short for the chimney, he 
 has put it out a window. 
 
 38 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 May 24. 
 
 It was one o'clock when school 
 closed. We have so many grades that 
 we cannot put them in classes, and it 
 takes longer. The big boys are un- 
 ruly. Emily is a good singer, and 
 when the school is too much for us, 
 we start singing, and that calms them 
 down. 
 
 Several children came and demanded 
 clothing as a right. A girl brought 
 back a dress, saying it was "scant." 
 She wanted a fuller skirt and a hoop- 
 skirt. 
 
 May 25. 
 
 School was getting pretty unruly 
 when a big man appeared to ask for 
 39 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 "learning." The boys quieted down. 
 I had threatened to get a man to help 
 me whip the bad boys, and evidently 
 they thought he had come for that 
 purpose. 
 
 We paid Sarah her wages; the first 
 money she ever earned or handled. 
 
 We found, growing in great quanti- 
 ties beside the road, the Passion flower, 
 in full bloom. 
 
 Some men brought the dried moss 
 for our beds. It is cured by soaking 
 it five days in salt water, then drying 
 it in the sun. It is jet black and very 
 dry. We have paid Uncle Jack for it. 
 Jim will pick it over, and fill our bed- 
 sacks. We shall have soft beds to lie 
 
 upon to-night. 
 
 40 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 Dr. Mason advises us to go to the 
 bay soon. It will not be safe to stay 
 on the island after the weather be- 
 comes hot. There is danger of fever. 
 
 Saturday, May 27. 
 
 No school. The morning being fine 
 and the roar of the ocean plainly heard, 
 we decided to drive to the bay. I can- 
 not describe our conveyance. There 
 were large spaces between the floor 
 boards of the cart; both horses were 
 skeletons, one large and the other 
 small. The harness was of ropes and 
 small cords, with twine for reins. 
 
 The road was much overgrown, 
 flowers of all kinds lined the way, and 
 turkey buzzards were sitting in solemn 
 41 
 
A New England JVoman*s 
 
 conference. Within a quarter of a 
 mile of Edingsville — as the bay is 
 called — we reached a creek, which 
 we crossed on a flat-bottomed raft and 
 walked to the long row of houses on 
 the beach. Once this was a famous 
 summer resort, and some of the houses 
 are very pretty. The beach is broad 
 and hard, and the surf was grand. 
 We went to several houses, looking 
 for one that suited us for a summer 
 home. 
 
 Meeting Mr. Everett and the two 
 ladies, they invited us to share with 
 them a pleasant house they had found. 
 We will decide later. 
 
 After we had gone to bed we heard 
 
 a clatter of horses' feet, and Dr. Mason 
 
 42 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 and Captain Crissy appeared with our 
 mail. Fatigue and headaches were 
 forgotten; we sat up half the night 
 reading our letters and talking of home. 
 
 May 28. 
 
 The army wagon brought our long- 
 delayed and much-needed bedsteads. 
 With them and our moss beds we shall 
 not want to get up at five every morn- 
 ing. We have lain on the bare floor 
 nearly three weeks. 
 
 Our shutters and blinds have been 
 mended, and we sent to Charleston for 
 glass for the windows. 
 
 Uncle Jack's pig was stolen last 
 night, the second within a few weeks. 
 He says he is going to Charleston to 
 43 
 
A New England JVoman^s 
 
 consult a fortune-teller to find out the 
 thief. We advise him to stay at home 
 and to watch for the guilty person. 
 
 May 29. 
 
 Walker has made us a chair and 
 table, for which we paid a good price. 
 Some coarse straw hats, suitable only 
 for bathing, cost us a dollar and a half 
 apiece. 
 
 In our walk this afternoon, we saw 
 a man and woman who seemed well- 
 informed. They hope to prove to the 
 "Secesh" that colored folks can work 
 and accomplish something without mas- 
 ters or overseers; for it has always been 
 said that "Niggers wouldn't work un- 
 less compelled." The woman's name 
 44 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 is Lydia Polite. She gave us cucum- 
 bers and peanuts. 
 
 We asked another woman if she 
 is contented. She answered, "God 
 bless you, I reckon I am — I heard for 
 a long time of war and the coming of 
 the Yankees, and I spects my bones 
 be white before I see that time, but I 
 did live to see them, bress de Lord." 
 She said she had raised "Ten head of 
 childen." Three little ones were with 
 her. 
 
 Mr. Everett brought us some school 
 books, for which we are thankful. 
 
 May 31. 
 
 We walked across the fields to the 
 Baptist Church, where the colored 
 
 45 
 
A New England TVoman" s 
 
 minister has his school. He came to 
 meet us — said his mother was up- 
 stairs sick with smallpox, so we only 
 went through the lower floor, and out 
 the back door into the pretty garden. 
 In the evening the family sang for us, 
 "Heaven's bell ringing — won't turn 
 back heaven's bell ringing for believ- 
 ers." Another was, "Sister, you come 
 too late, the Devil been and shut the 
 gate and carried off the keys"; then 
 "Don't judge me, Lord, O Lord — 
 don't be offended," and "Thar's re- 
 joicing ober yander"; "Let me go, 
 Jacob will not let me go," this repeated 
 over and over, and "Oh, my Lord, 
 help us." 
 
 46 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 June i. 
 
 President's Fast — no school. Zack 
 is in trouble again; he did not go to 
 church as ordered. We have told 
 Sarah we cannot have so much "lick- 
 ing"; it is too much for our nerves, 
 to say nothing of Zack's back. 
 
 Mr. Everett arrived, sick. We 
 have cleared out one of our back rooms 
 making it as comfortable as possible, 
 and have put it at his disposal. He 
 has overworked, and walked too much 
 in the hot sun. 
 
 A rattlesnake was killed in the yard. 
 It had wound itself round a hen, that 
 was sitting on her nest under a laurel. 
 
 At the store we met the captain of 
 the little boat that brought us to the 
 47 
 
A New England W^omari* s 
 
 island, and the boat agent. They are 
 surprised that we have stayed, thought 
 we were "too fine." As our rations 
 seem to have been overlooked, they 
 offered to get them for us. 
 
 Mrs. Pillsbury sent us a bag of rice, 
 and we have been living on that, with 
 the few eggs and vegetables we could 
 get. 
 
 June 2. 
 
 Mr. Everett is quite sick. We sent 
 
 to the commissary for the Government 
 
 doctor, who had gone to Beaufort. 
 
 Then we sent to headquarters for Dr. 
 
 Mason. He says Mr. Everett has 
 
 typhoid symptoms. 
 
 At school there were seventy schol- 
 48 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 ars, who behaved pretty well. A girl 
 came just recovering from smallpox. 
 She was indignant when we sent her 
 away, but we pacified her by telling 
 her she could come back in a few 
 weeks. Going up to our bedroom we 
 met on the stairs a rattlesnake. We 
 screamed lustily, and Uncle Jack, 
 Jim, George, and Zack appeared. I 
 jumped over it, and it fell through the 
 balusters to the hall, where the men 
 killed it. We find in our room many 
 holes where it could have come up in 
 the walls from the cellar. To-morrow 
 we shall paper our walls with news- 
 papers. 
 
 49 
 
A New England JVomatf s 
 
 June 3. 
 
 Our regular cleaning day. Phoebe 
 came to scour the floors. She was much 
 pleased with a pink calico apron I 
 made for her. Uncle Jack brought 
 us a ripe fig. Never saw one before. 
 We shall have plenty if the children 
 don't steal all that are on the tree. 
 
 Mr. Everett has been telling us the 
 amount of rations the Government 
 allows each person. It is ample, and 
 we are sure we have never had our full 
 allowance. 
 
 We have papered part of our cham- 
 ber with newspapers, covering the 
 places where the plastering is broken, 
 where the snake may have come up. 
 
 Little Ben went to walk with us. 
 50 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 Passing Sandy's house, he said, "When 
 Sandy no at school, me make no piece 
 of noise." Passed the evening listen- 
 ing to George and Zack. Their owner 
 rented them out to a hotel-keeper in 
 Sumterville. They were worked day 
 and night, never going to bed until 
 after one o'clock, and getting up at 
 four to go to the station on arrival of 
 trains. Sundays they were allowed 
 one hour to go home, three miles 
 away, for clean clothes. The hotel- 
 keeper paid their master twenty dollars 
 a month for each. 
 
 Sunday, June 4. 
 
 No churchgoing — too warm, and 
 the walk too long for Sundays, as we 
 5 1 
 
A New England TVomatfs 
 
 are obliged to take it every week-day. 
 We seated ourselves on the piazza to 
 write letters. Soon a crowd of chil- 
 dren were around us, all wanting 
 books, and before we knew it we were 
 teaching school. George and Zack 
 came with the others. George is pa- 
 tient and promising. We are surprised 
 at the ease with which he acquires the 
 sound of words. He teaches his father 
 after leaving us. 
 
 Dr. Mason does not think Mr. 
 Everett will be sick long. He needs 
 rest and nourishing food. 
 
 The captain of the Hudson offered 
 
 to get our rations in the city. We 
 
 gave him our bags and trust they will 
 
 be returned well filled. At bedtime 
 
 52 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 we heard a boat whistle. We may 
 have letters to-morrow. 
 
 June 6. 
 
 The store-keeper brought two stools 
 for our use in school; we found it so 
 hard to stand all the time. At eleven, 
 Mr. Blake brought our letters, papers 
 and rations. Emily left for home. 
 Four letters for me, and sixty scholars 
 to attend to before I could open them! 
 We forgot our dinner and spent the 
 afternoon reading each other's letters 
 and talking of home. The rations 
 were ample; we made exchanges at 
 the store. 
 
 53 
 
A New England TVoman ' s 
 
 June 7. 
 
 Coming home I met Lieutenant Jen- 
 kins, who told me twenty rebels had 
 been caught on the island. They 
 landed at a place, three or four miles 
 away, called Upper Landing. The 
 object of their coming is not known. 
 
 June 9. 
 
 School over for the week. Very, 
 very hot weather. Emily has much 
 headache from the long walk and ex- 
 posure to the sun. School and waiting 
 on Mr. Everett take so much time that 
 I cannot write. He is better, but not 
 able to leave his room. Mr. Blake, 
 who came to see him, was surprised 
 and delighted with our school; he said 
 54 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 Miss K.'s and Miss S.'s school bore no 
 comparison, — and they " certified" 
 schoolma'ams! We are quite elated. 
 Our books number a hundred and 
 forty scholars, and from sixty to seventy 
 are in daily attendance. Our evening 
 school on the piazza is well attended, 
 and we enjoy our labors. All are re- 
 spectful and eager to learn. We notice 
 that all the children and grown-ups 
 also hold their books sidewise; when 
 we asked why, a man answered "We 
 wish to learn to read on all sides." 
 
 June io. 
 
 Phoebe came to wash the floors, and 
 Julia, the windows. I gave the latter 
 a pink calico apron, and Phoebe some 
 55 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 flour and coffee, which satisfied her. 
 She said she would give herself to us 
 every Saturday. To Uncle Jack, who 
 cleaned up the yard, I gave a hat. He 
 was tickled, never having owned a 
 covering for his head before. We had 
 a good dinner, — some ham, salad of 
 lettuce, which Henry's grandmother 
 sent us, and some biscuits without 
 butter. Dr. Mason took supper with 
 us. He was much amused with our 
 rooms neatly papered with Springfield 
 and New York papers. 
 
 Sunday, June ii. 
 
 Hottest morning we have had — not 
 a breath of air. Dr. Mason advises 
 us to leave the island as soon as pos- 
 
 56 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 sible — not safe for us to stay much 
 longer. A woman who brought some 
 cucumbers said she would make any 
 sacrifice to serve us, who were doing 
 so much to teach her children, who 
 knew nothing but how to handle a hoe. 
 George killed another rattlesnake under 
 the plum tree, — they are after the 
 figs — horrid creatures! 
 
 June 12. 
 
 Three colored clergymen visited our 
 school. They told the scholars to be 
 neat and clean, and to heed all that 
 was taught them. 
 
 June 13 and 14. 
 
 Intolerably hot days — rather cooler 
 at night. Had a very large school, 
 
 57 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 one hundred and one scholars — too 
 many — cannot keep order with so 
 many. I am well worn out before 
 noon with shouting and stamping, for 
 I am obliged to help Emily when she 
 gets into difficulty. We stayed after 
 school closed with three unruly boys, 
 rough and tough customers, who con- 
 fessed that they liked to tease us; but 
 they were ashamed and promised to 
 do better in the future. 
 
 Captain Storrs called. He told us 
 there were five guerrillas at camp; 
 they had been caught on the island, 
 but there is no evidence to convict 
 them and they will probably be set 
 at liberty. 
 
 58 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 June 15. 
 
 Hot, hotter, hottest! Impossible to 
 go up to the church for school. The 
 children came down to see why we 
 did not appear. We kept them and 
 had school on the piazza; Emily 
 there, and I down in the yard. 
 
 Mr. Blake brought whisky and rem- 
 edies for Mr. Everett. He went to 
 Beaufort for them, and nearly lost his 
 life coming back. A storm arose, and 
 the high wind blew their little boat 
 thirty miles out to sea; if he had not 
 had a small compass, he could not have 
 got back. Mr. Blake gave us liberty 
 to stop teaching when we like, and 
 we have decided, as it is so fearfully 
 hot and Emily's head troubles her so 
 59 
 
A New England JVomari ' s 
 
 much, to have school in our house 
 until we can go to the bay for our 
 vacation. Mr. Blake has left his poor, 
 half-starved white horse for Mr. Everett 
 to ride to his home. It is in our shed, 
 tormented by mosquitoes and flies. 
 
 June 16. 
 
 Jim and Uncle Jerry have cleared 
 out our big front room and arranged 
 some boards on blocks for seats for the 
 older children. The little ones can sit 
 on the floor. Fifty came this morning. 
 They are to bring stools — as many 
 as have them — so we shall get on well. 
 
 Mr. Everett bade us farewell, riding 
 
 off on his white beast; he seemed 
 
 pretty weak. Mr. Redpath writes that 
 60 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 we are to report to Mr. Pillsbury, as 
 he himself goes North on the next 
 steamer, and advises us to close our 
 school. All the Charleston schools are 
 closed, as there is much sickness; one 
 northern teacher having died. He 
 thinks we had better go North for our 
 vacation. We cannot do that, for we 
 should never return. 
 
 If our friends at home could only 
 see our flowers! Cloth of gold roses 
 and lovely Cape Jessamines. The 
 evening was pleasant; the children 
 sang to us and we told them stories, 
 — Red Riding Hood, etc. They had 
 never listened before to stories of any 
 kind, and were most attentive. 
 
 61 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 June 18. 
 
 Still close and hot. A shower at 
 noon with lightning and terrible thun- 
 der, as we never heard it before. 
 Spent the day writing letters home 
 and had Sunday school in the even- 
 ing. 
 
 June 19. 
 
 We like the new school arrangement, 
 for we do not get so warm, can wear 
 loose sacks, and can spare our lungs. 
 
 When we feel tired, we sing, which 
 they all enjoy. They particularly de- 
 light in singing "Hang Jeff Davis to a 
 sour apple tree.' , 
 
 The children told us some of their 
 
 experiences in slave life. One boy, 
 
 62 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 Tom, showed us deep scars on his 
 arms; said they were from severe 
 whippings. When about eight years 
 old, he rode a horse to a distant place, 
 and lost the colt that was following; 
 and of course was whipped. Many 
 of the negroes were born on the island, 
 and are glad to get back to their old 
 homes. 
 
 June 20 and 21. 
 
 Rain for two days. No children 
 came, and we enjoyed the holiday. 
 Heard a boat whistle, but the rain will 
 prevent our sending the boys to camp 
 for our letters. Sarah came to our 
 room after dinner, and we had a nice 
 talk. She is very quiet and never 
 
 63 
 
A New England TVomarfs 
 
 talks of her experiences unless ques- 
 tioned; then she speaks with reluc- 
 tance and much feeling. She says " It's 
 time slaves were free, they've suffered 
 enough. Only Jesus knows what 
 they've endured." The song, "No- 
 body knows but Jesus," tells the story. 
 She said no slave mother could have 
 her children after they were old enough 
 to be of use ; they were sold or hired 
 out. She had often seen her children 
 abused — punished severely for small 
 faults. 
 
 She had prayed and prayed that one 
 child — her oldest — might die. The 
 girl was not very strong, and had the 
 care of a fretful baby, when little more 
 
 than a baby herself. At last God 
 
 64 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 heard her prayer, and her child died. 
 No one could tell how thankful she 
 was. Talk of the happiness of slaves! 
 None were ever happy. They became 
 hardened to their lot and were cheerful, 
 but mothers were always anxious, 
 dreading separation from their chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Walter, one of our scholars, told us 
 that he saw a box addressed to us on 
 the Charleston boat. He sat on it all 
 the way. What news! probably it is 
 on the wharf soaking in this rain. 
 
 June 22. 
 
 Rain still coming down in torrents, 
 but we must have our box, so we 
 started off some boys with umbrellas 
 
 65 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 to find out about it and bring our letters. 
 They brought a big packet of letters, 
 and the camp wagon brought our box 
 from home, and three barrels from 
 the Pillsburys in Charleston. We 
 worked hard all the evening unpack- 
 ing and looking over our treasures. 
 Oh! such gingerbread was never before 
 made and eaten. We did not care 
 for supper. Phcebe was transformed 
 by her new dress. Uncle Jack says 
 "She will be getting a new man now 
 she is so fine." Uncle Jack and Jim 
 are resplendent in new coats and 
 trousers. Zack is a picture in a 
 Zouave suit of Jack King's. 
 
 66 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 June 23 and 24. 
 
 The rain continues and everything 
 is damp and sticky. The roof leaks 
 badly and our chamber is in a sad 
 state. George and Watson arrived 
 early, having heard of our box of 
 clothing. They will mend the roof, 
 and we shall pay them with cloth- 
 ing. Watson demanded a whole suit. 
 We thought that a large order, but 
 found we could fill it, even to the hat 
 and boots. We first dressed up our 
 immediate family, Sarah and the chil- 
 dren. Ann is fine in a blue Garibaldi 
 of Jeannie G.'s, and Abby in white 
 pantalettes and a blue poplin, once 
 Jeannie's. George wears a suit of 
 Henry Freeman's and Fred Harris's hat. 
 
 67 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 Mr. Blake came to say good-by 
 for two months. 
 
 Sunday, June 25. 
 
 The sun came out and we had Sun- 
 day school in the school-room. I do 
 the preaching and Emily attends to 
 the singing. She is highly amused at 
 my teachings. What surprises me is 
 that they know so little of the life of 
 Christ; not knowing even of his birth, 
 but they all are familiar with his say- 
 ings. They all believe in a hell! I 
 asked the children whom they love 
 best. Some answered "God"; Zack 
 said, "Ma; she loves me and feeds me." 
 After school, George came and re- 
 proved me for telling stories to the 
 68 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 children on Sunday. He considers it 
 sinful. 
 
 Lydia Polite came to tell us that her 
 baby had died. She is a very good, 
 sensible woman. 
 
 June 26. 
 
 Eighty children, and not enough 
 room for them. We heard the alpha- 
 bet classes and turned them out in the 
 yard to play. A thunder shower fresh- 
 ened the air so we could walk to the 
 store to inquire how we could get to 
 the bay. 
 
 Since the boxes of clothing came, 
 we have been besieged by half the 
 island. Some, whom we do not know, 
 and who live miles away, demand 
 
 69 
 
A New England TVomatfs 
 
 clothing and say they have a right to 
 it. I have called Uncle Jack to the 
 rescue. He knows how to deal with 
 them, and explains that the clothing 
 does not come from the Government, 
 and that they must pay for it with 
 vegetables, eggs, chickens, or what- 
 ever they can bring in exchange. Be- 
 fore we were up this morning, Phoebe 
 appeared with a live rooster some one 
 had brought. She said she would 
 make a pen for it, as we were provided 
 with food for the day. Before night 
 two more were brought. Soon we 
 shall have a rooster house. 
 
 A girl came to school with traces of 
 smallpox on her face. When ques- 
 tioned, she said her baby had died 
 70 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 recently. We sent her off, indignant 
 that she came, and she was equally 
 indignant that she was dismissed. 
 
 Uncle Jack has heard of a man who 
 owns a horse and cart, and we have 
 told him to find out what day he will 
 take us to the bay. Uncle Jack says 
 we have "Done spile the people here." 
 Well! we can soon un-spile them. 
 
 June 28. 
 
 Clear, and a refreshing west wind. 
 We had a sumptuous dinner, — fried 
 chicken, new potatoes, green corn, and 
 watermelons for dessert. Sounds well, 
 our menu, but the corn was so dry it 
 could not be eaten. Phoebe brought 
 the live chicken in her arms "For 
 7i 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 Missis' dinner, Mum." The potatoes 
 came from a man who brought a 
 cracked looking-glass and asked for 
 a gun in exchange. We took the glass 
 and gave him coat, trousers, and a hat. 
 The holes in our bedroom were filled 
 with plaster made of mud and dried 
 moss. 
 
 June 30. 
 
 We told the children when we dis- 
 missed them, that this is the last day of 
 school, but as we do not mean to leave 
 the island immediately, we will teach 
 a few if they will come to us. 
 
 July 2. 
 A visit from a Mr. Curtis who keeps 
 
 a store at Peters Point, seven miles 
 
 72 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 from here. He brought the news that 
 the soldiers stationed here are ordered 
 to leave at once for Beaufort, to join 
 the rest of the regiment. We are 
 troubled because we depend upon them 
 for our mail and packages. All the 
 afternoon we wrote, that our letters 
 might be ready for to-night's steamer. 
 George, Zack, and Uncle Jack took 
 them to the landing and gave them 
 into the hands of Captain Storrs, who 
 sent us a good-by. 
 
 July 3. 
 
 It is a great relief to have no school. 
 Got out the materials sent from 
 home and cut and fitted our bathing 
 suits. 
 
 73 
 
A New England JVomatf s 
 
 We took a walk through the fields, 
 and saw Lydia Polite hoeing her cot- 
 ton, which looks well, full of blossoms. 
 Next we saw our friends, Jerry and 
 Louisa Pious, with the children, Abby 
 and Ellen. They were setting out 
 slips of the sweet potato vine. Abby 
 handled the hoe as well as a man. 
 The baby, on its back between the 
 ridges was happy. 
 
 From a row of cabins that we passed 
 many of our scholars ran out to meet 
 us; their nakedness was barely covered, 
 but we are used to that. They asked 
 us to go into their homes, which were 
 miserable, dark, and dirty. Another 
 friend showed us a cotton-gin soon to 
 be put in order and worked. We 
 74 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 walked by a rice field; the blades 
 were just above the ground, fresh and 
 green. 
 
 We had a call from Mr. Everett, 
 who is quite well again. He offered 
 to go down to the bay to select a house 
 for us; we have agreed to go next week 
 if we can find a conveyance. 
 
 July 4. 
 
 Independence Day. Perfect quiet 
 reigns. We imagine we hear the can- 
 non and firecrackers at home. It is 
 so very warm that we have no life, and 
 lay on the bed all the morning. James 
 Russell offered us his horse and cart 
 for the day for two dollars and a half. 
 
 75 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 July 5. 
 
 Up early. James Russell came with 
 horse and cart, and at nine we set off 
 with Zack, Ben, and our luncheon. 
 The cart is what we call a dump-cart. 
 We seated ourselves in the middle to 
 balance, but when the horse went 
 faster than a walk we were so thrown 
 about that we had to sit on the floor. 
 The harness was of rope — mostly 
 twine; the shafts fell to the ground 
 every few minutes, and Zack, who 
 drove, was on the continual jump to 
 replace them. We were nearly two 
 hours going the three miles. When 
 we reached the creek back of the bay, 
 the bridge was gone, but the tide being 
 low we were able to cross. Such a 
 
 76 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 delicious cool breeze welcomed us, 
 and such a beautiful, broad, hard beach. 
 We enjoyed the day, eating lunch on 
 the piazza of one of the most imposing 
 houses. We visited a dozen or more 
 houses, looking for one suitable for 
 our summer abode. The only one 
 that pleased us is that selected by Mr. 
 Everett for himself and the other 
 teachers; as it is large enough to 
 accommodate us all, we shall ask our 
 friends to let us have one half the house. 
 Because of the tide we had to wait 
 until after sunset, starting for home 
 about seven o'clock. Our horse re- 
 fused to enter the creek; one of the 
 men led him in, the water being only 
 a little above the man's knees. Half 
 77 
 
A New England JVoman*s 
 
 way across, the horse stopped and re- 
 fused to move. Suddenly he started 
 down the creek and lay down, the 
 water nearly covering the cart. I 
 wanted to jump out, but Emily held 
 on to my dress. The men came out 
 and carried us over to the land, then 
 unharnessed the horse and led him 
 back. 
 
 The fright and lateness of the hour 
 (for our three miles drive was through 
 thick woods) decided us to remain all 
 night on the beach. We went back to 
 the piazza; Zack and Ben were soon 
 asleep; Emily and I were not so for- 
 tunate. We were heated by our long 
 walk, and disturbed in mind. The 
 night was glorious. A bright moon 
 
 78 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 made it as light as day. We walked 
 the beach and watched the waves. 
 
 July 6. 
 
 A cool and refreshing morning after 
 our uneasy night. The water's edge 
 is only a few feet from the house. All 
 the houses, sixty or more, are built 
 close down on the beach. After we 
 made our toilets, Zack built a fire and 
 boiled some eggs. Before we had 
 eaten them, we heard voices, and soon 
 Jim and Uncle Jack appeared. All 
 the people in our yard had been greatly 
 worried and unable to sleep, fearing 
 we had been drowned. At daybreak, 
 Sarah had sent Jim and Uncle Jack 
 in search of us. Soon George arrived 
 79 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 He could not wait for the others 
 to return. We had a fine escort as 
 we went back to the place where we 
 had left the horse and cart. A little 
 higher up the creek was a raft on which 
 we crossed. 
 
 July 7. 
 
 Robert came to borrow money to 
 buy a "shoat." Three dollars for the 
 pig and "a little more," if we could 
 spare it. As Rhoda, his woman, is to 
 work for us this summer, we lent him 
 five dollars. 
 
 July 9. 
 
 Phoebe said Louisa was going to 
 
 have some friends for tea — would we 
 80 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 contribute the sugar ? They were go- 
 ing to have a Praise Meeting in the 
 yard, but Jim asked permission to 
 have it on the back piazza if it would 
 not disturb us. We consented, and 
 told him we should like to be present. 
 An Elder who could read, led the sing- 
 ing. George held for him a lighted 
 candle, which we supplied. The leader 
 read one or two lines from the hymn- 
 book; then they all sang, each man for 
 himself. After the singing, the Elder 
 prayed. He asked the blessed Lord 
 to raise the window curtains this blessed 
 night and let the poor sinners look in, 
 and if it was the blessed Lord's will, 
 would he this blessed evening send 
 down his angels with a hammer and 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 knife and knock at every sinner's heart, 
 for many there are this blessed even- 
 ing, weeping and tearing their hair 
 and searching for religion, and not 
 knowing how to get it. They sang 
 again, then the sisters walked round in 
 a circle with short, quick steps, swing- 
 ing their arms and singing, "Oh! 
 Lord, don't be offended. Oh! Lord, 
 don't judge me hard," and much more 
 of the same strain. They kept this 
 up a long time; the meeting lasted till 
 long after midnight. One song was 
 "Sister, you come too late, the Devil 
 came and shut the gate and carried 
 home the keys." Another, "When 
 Gabriel blow his horn for Massa Jesus 
 
 would he please blow a little louder?" 
 82 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 July io. 
 
 Packed more of our belongings and 
 finished the bathing suits. I put mine 
 on and went into the yard, which 
 greatly amused the children, who had 
 never seen such a rig. 
 
 July ii. 
 
 When the man came with his wagon, 
 we doubted if the horses could carry 
 us three miles, they were such skele- 
 tons, and the man said they could not 
 drag a heavy load. We put in our 
 most desirable articles and started the 
 load off about ten o'clock, Jim and 
 Uncle Jack walking. Cuffee came to 
 sell watermelons in a nice cart, with 
 a seat and a back to it, and we offered 
 
 83 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 him two dollars to take us to the bay. 
 We waited for Jim to get back because 
 we were determined to have all our 
 possessions moved before night. He 
 did not get here until three o'clock 
 because the horses could not pull the 
 load through the sand, and the trunks 
 and everything had to be "toted" on 
 the men's heads across the creek and 
 up the beach to the house. Then 
 another load was put on the cart, and 
 we packed ourselves and what we 
 most needed into Cuffee's wagon and 
 started. Cuffee walked. Emily held 
 the strings, and I, the tin pail, box, 
 etc. 
 
 They carried the things across a 
 broken bridge, a shorter way than by 
 
 8 + 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 the ford; and we were glad to be in 
 our summer home by the sea. 
 
 Edisto Bay, July 12. 
 
 A beautiful morning, fresh and cool. 
 Our friends soon took their departure 
 for the island. We were sorry to part 
 with them. 
 
 Soon some soldiers appeared, in- 
 quiring for the house which is to be 
 occupied by Mr. Alden, the Govern- 
 ment Superintendent of Edisto Island, 
 who is to arrive to-day. 
 
 July 13. 
 
 Such a morning and such surf never 
 were known. New life has been given 
 us. We ought to have come here a 
 
 85 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 month ago. We were surprised this 
 morning by receiving a quart of new 
 milk from Mr. Alden's house, with the 
 request that we send for it every morn- 
 ing. Such luxury — the first milk we 
 have seen since leaving Charleston. 
 As for bread, we have forgotten how 
 it looks. We have corn-meal (white), 
 which stirred up with water and an 
 egg makes a very nice cake. 
 
 July 15. 
 
 Received a letter from Mr. Blake 
 in Beaufort, saying that the Govern- 
 ment has stopped our rations, and 
 that we must either supply ourselves, 
 or the society, by which we are em- 
 ployed, must do so. He advised us 
 86 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 to go north, but we have decided to 
 remain for the summer, at least; it is 
 too warm now to take the long journey. 
 
 Our house is pleasant and comfort- 
 able, though minus a front door and 
 some of the windows. We have taken 
 two lower rooms; one looking on the 
 water, for our sleeping and living- 
 room, and the other for the dining- 
 room. The kitchen is across the yard, 
 which is deep with sand, washed up 
 by the creek. At high tide we are 
 wholly surrounded by water. 
 
 Besides Rhoda and "her man," 
 Robert, we have George, who sleeps 
 across the threshold where the door 
 should be; so we feel safe. 
 
 87 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 We have called upon Mr. Alden, 
 who has horses, servants, and some 
 colored soldiers, and he has promised 
 to bring our mail from the landing, 
 seven miles away. This is a great 
 relief. 
 
 We find the bathing delightful, and 
 ventured out quite far, until Robert 
 caught a shark in shore. 
 
 Jim has been down, bringing little 
 
 Ben for a visit. I have dressed him 
 
 in a suit of underwear which came in 
 
 a barrel of clothing from the "Church 
 
 of the Disciples'' (Boston). He sleeps 
 
 on the floor beside my bed. One 
 
 night, as he hung over my chair, he 
 
 was uneasy, and I asked what troubled 
 
 him. He whispered, "Is the reason 
 88 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 you don't kiss me 'cause I'm black?" 
 I took him into my lap and held him 
 till he slept. 
 
 Miss Kempton and Miss Stanton 
 will occupy two rooms of this house. 
 They will do their own cooking and 
 will not interfere with us. 
 
 We have only two chairs — mine, 
 a steamer chair; Emily's, a pretty 
 straight-backed one; very tiresome to 
 sit in long at a time ; we often exchange 
 and oftener stretch ourselves on the 
 floor to rest. Our great need is drink- 
 ing water. There is an open cistern 
 back of the house; this we used till a 
 party of our colored visitors in a frolic 
 threw their hats into it. A burly old 
 darky waded in and fished them out, 
 
 8 9 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 and since then we have used water- 
 melons to quench our thirst. A coat, 
 vest, or hat in exchange will get us a 
 plenty. We keep a pile on the floor 
 of our dining-room, and cut one when 
 thirsty. 
 
 Our food is getting low. We are 
 often hungry. Government flour is 
 full of weevils, little bugs, that baking 
 does not kill. We pick out the wrig- 
 gling creatures and eat the bread 
 dipped in molasses, but soon we shall 
 have eggs and vegetables. 
 
 A child has been born to Sarah. 
 She has not named it yet, as it is con- 
 sidered bad luck to give a name to a 
 child before it is a month old. She 
 
 means to call her Mary Emily. 
 90 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 We carried some clothing to our 
 namesake, a light-colored individual 
 with a large head of wool, and found 
 poor Sarah in great trouble. We knew 
 that Zack and Marjorie had been sick 
 with fever, and now Jim is very ill. 
 
 The bill from the store made to 
 "Mrs. Mary teacher," is a curiosity. 
 
 Mr. Everett has astonished us all. 
 He has received from the society in 
 Boston one hundred dollars for two 
 months' rations for the five teachers 
 on Edisto. 
 
 The blacks at the landing are dis- 
 satisfied. There is trouble about their 
 rations, and they complain that Willis, 
 9 1 
 
A New England JVomari* s 
 
 the man in charge, is cruel. He says 
 he has acted under Mr. Alden's orders, 
 and so they are angry with him too. 
 There are some three hundred of them. 
 Several were put under guard Satur- 
 day, and the trial comes Monday. We 
 are anxious, but Mr. Alden has no 
 fears. 
 
 On Sunday Mr. Alden went to the 
 two churches and talked to the people, 
 telling them "the law." The women 
 were turned out of church before the 
 men began to talk. 
 
 When Jim was sick, Sarah sent her 
 
 baby to the neighbors to be cared for, 
 
 and devoted herself to the sick ones. 
 
 We did everything in our power, giving 
 92 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 money and other things to make them 
 comfortable. Jim died the twelfth of 
 September. Sarah had succumbed to 
 the same disease, and two weeks later 
 she died. The last time I saw her, she 
 asked me to take her seven children 
 north to my "plantation." I prom- 
 ised to do all I could. 
 
 We told Judy, who had taken the 
 baby, that we would clothe it and pay 
 her for its care, but she got tired of the 
 child, and one day left it at our house 
 and slipped away. Rhoda begged me 
 to keep it and let her care for it, but I 
 declined, knowing Mistress Rhoda and 
 myself too well to enter into such a 
 partnership. One of our neighbors, a 
 young woman, took it for a time. 
 93 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 We consulted Mr. Alden about the 
 children. George was old enough to 
 take care of himself. Zack was given 
 to a woman, who promised to treat 
 him as her own. The younger chil- 
 dren and baby were sent, several weeks 
 later, to the Charleston orphan asylum. 
 
 Mary Emily did not live long, nor 
 did Charlotte, who was a sickly little 
 girl. Poor little Ben, the most affec- 
 tionate of them all, refused to eat, and 
 died of homesickness the next winter. 
 
 My sister, who came down to visit 
 us, carried Ann, aged seven, and an- 
 other little girl, Maggie Murphy, home 
 with her. They have lived in Spring- 
 field ever since. Both are capable 
 women. After we went north I sent 
 94 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 for George and Zack, that they might 
 work on our place, but they were so 
 well employed at the Phosphate Works 
 that we thought they would be happier 
 if left among their own people. 
 
 We gave the stewardess of one of 
 the New York boats money to bring 
 little Marjorie to us, but when my 
 brother-in-law went to the boat to get 
 her, he was told that she was dying. 
 
 In October Mr. Alden was told to 
 bring the people together that General 
 Howard might talk to them about their 
 future. On the nineteenth a cavalcade 
 of twenty negroes, mounted on horses 
 and mules of all kinds and sizes rushed 
 down to the landing, and formed two 
 95 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 lines, through which General Saxton 
 and General Howard, with the other 
 gentlemen, passed, receiving the horse- 
 men's salute. 
 
 The church was crowded. General 
 Howard, in simple words, said that 
 he, being their friend, had been sent 
 by the President to tell them that the 
 owners of the land, their old masters, 
 had been pardoned, and their planta- 
 tions were to be given back to them; 
 that they wanted to come back to 
 cultivate the land, and would hire the 
 blacks to work for them. 
 
 At first the people could not under- 
 stand, but as the meaning struck them, 
 that they must give up their little 
 homes and gardens, and work again 
 
 9 6 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 for others, there was a general mur- 
 mur of dissatisfaction. General How- 
 ard's task grew more painful. He 
 begged them to lay aside their bitter 
 feelings, and to become reconciled to 
 their old masters. We heard mur- 
 murs of "No, never." "Can't do it." 
 General Howard proposed that three 
 men be chosen to represent the people, 
 to consult and report to him. 
 
 Meantime they were asked to sing, 
 and burst forth with "Nobody knows 
 the trouble I see," and "Wandering 
 in the wilderness of sorrow and gloom." 
 Two of the largest owners came down 
 with General Howard. Many of their 
 old slaves were in the church. It was 
 touching to see them saying." How dy" 
 97 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 to each other. The gentlemen also 
 felt it. Tears were in their eyes. One 
 of them made a long address. 
 
 Still the negroes would not trust them 
 or their promises, declaring that they 
 never could work again "for the Se- 
 cesh.' , One said "It was very dis- 
 tressful." Another that he could 
 forgive his old master, as he hoped 
 to be forgiven, but he had lived all 
 his life with a basket over his head, 
 and now that it had been taken off 
 and air and sunlight had come to him, 
 he could not consent to have the bas- 
 ket over him again. It was a hard 
 day for them, poor creatures. 
 
 The committee came back after some 
 time, saying they could come to no 
 
 9 8 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 decision, they were too much shaken 
 to see things clearly. 
 
 A few days later, they drew up the 
 following petition to the President: 
 
 Dear president Johnson 
 Of the united States 
 Wee the freedmen of South Car- 
 lina wish to adress you with a few 
 lines Conserning the sad feelings that 
 is now resting upon our minds wee 
 pray that god may guive you helth & 
 good spirets that when you receive 
 theas few notasis that you may receive 
 them as the father did the prodical 
 son wee have for the last four yars 
 ben studing with justis and the best 
 of our ability what step wee should 
 99 
 
A New England TVoman^s 
 
 take to become a peple: wee have 
 
 lernt to respect all Just Causes that 
 
 ever came from the union. 
 
 " Mag genrl howard has paid the 
 
 freedmen of South Carlinah a visit & 
 
 caled a meating on Edisto Island South 
 
 Carliner in the Centrel part of the 
 
 island at the priskple Church thair hee 
 
 beutifly addressed the freedmen of 
 
 this island after his adress a grate 
 
 many of the peple understanding what 
 
 was said they got aroused & awoke to 
 
 perfict sense to stody for them Selves 
 
 what part of this law would rest against 
 
 us, wee said in rafarence to what he 
 
 said that nothing did apier at that time 
 
 to bee very opressing upon us but the 
 
 one thing that is wee freedmen should 
 ioo 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 work for wages for our former oners 
 or eny other man president Johnson 
 of u st I do say . . . man that have 
 stud upon the feal of battle & have 
 shot there master & sons now Going 
 to ask ether one for bread or for shelter 
 or Comfortable for his wife & children 
 sunch a thing the u st should not 
 aught to Expect a man (to do) . . ." 
 
 Continuing, they said: "the King 
 of south Carolina ask the Privalage to 
 have the stage that he might a Dress 
 the ordenence [audience] of the freed- 
 men. . . ." 
 
 This was the beginning of a scorch- 
 ing arraignment of the "old master," 
 who had spoken at the meeting, who 
 pretended to "such a fealing to Com- 
 
 IOI 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 ply with the best order & also what 
 was the best for the freedmen. . . ." 
 "Here is Plenty Whidow & Fatherles 
 that have serve you as slave now losen 
 a home," and they beg that you "give 
 Each one of them a acres & a J to a 
 family as you has the labers & the 
 Profet of there Yearly [early] Youth." 
 And when "the Questin was asked 
 him by General Howard, what would 
 it sell your Ian for a acres his anser 
 the I would not take a hunderd $100 
 of a acres that is a part of his union 
 fealing so then we therefore lose fate 
 [faith] in this southern Gentelman " 
 And then they beseech "the wise presi- 
 don that sets on his seat" to give them 
 "a Chance to Recover out of this 
 
 102 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 trubble," . . . "these 3 Committee 
 has Pleg the Trouth to you dis day. 
 Oct. 25 1865." 
 
 All of us at headquarters were in- 
 vited to dine on Christmas with Cap- 
 tain and Mrs. Towles, and their friends 
 on Wadmelaw Island. It was a foggy 
 morning, and we were not in the best 
 of spirits. Four of the soldiers rowed 
 us in a pontoon. The dinner of wild 
 turkey, etc., was excellent. The ladies 
 who were asked to meet us, and whom 
 we liked, had been sent out by the 
 Philadelphia Society. 
 
 Captain Towles had got a fiddle and 
 
 an old negro to play it, and insisted 
 
 upon our dancing, because it was 
 103 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 Christmas and we must be merry. It 
 was bad music and worse dancing, 
 but we danced ourselves into a great 
 heat and great good spirits. 
 
 At seven we started for home, think- 
 ing an hour's rowing would bring us to 
 Edisto. The night was lovely, a clear 
 moonlight, and the tide in our favor. 
 Soon we were in a dense fog, and it 
 was difficult for the gentlemen to know 
 where and when to turn to find the 
 various creeks leading to Edisto. We 
 were weary and uncomfortable, in fact 
 lost, and at one o'clock, when the moon 
 had set and we were in darkness, Cap- 
 tain Bacheller gave the order to land. 
 We went ashore through deep mud, 
 
 climbed a steep bank and found our- 
 104 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 selves under some trees on what seemed 
 to be an uninhabited island. The 
 soldiers made a big camp-fire, and we 
 lay down upon rubber blankets, a log 
 covered with pine boughs and moss 
 as a pillow. We were aroused by 
 voices of men, who with their dogs 
 had been hunting coons. To our sur- 
 prise we learned from them that we 
 were still on Wadmelaw Island. They 
 told us how to get home. We slept 
 once more and at six o'clock set off 
 on the waters again, the fog being still 
 very thick. 
 
 Again it was all a mystery and we 
 proceeded much in the way of the 
 night before, when suddenly we heard 
 
 the drums at headquarters. 
 105 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 As we stepped upon the landing a 
 note from Mr. Alden was given to 
 Captain Bacheller with "Sad news" 
 written upon it. He hurriedly opened 
 the letter, and told us that our friends, 
 Miss Kempton, Miss Stanton, and 
 their friend, Mr. J. P. Blake, had been 
 drowned in St. Pierre Creek. We 
 were stunned, but drove immediately 
 to their home, the Middleton Place. 
 
 They had been to see some friends 
 
 two miles down the creek, and had 
 
 nearly reached the landing on their 
 
 return, when screams were heard; the 
 
 boat, which was small and unsea- 
 
 worthy, had been overturned, and they 
 
 were in the water. Mr. Blake was 
 
 lame and unable to swim, and the 
 1 06 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 young women could not. A boat was 
 quickly put out, but only the hats and 
 cloaks of the girls were found floating 
 near the spot. 
 
 Miss Kempton's body was recov- 
 ered the next day. She was buried in 
 the graveyard, back of the Congrega- 
 tional Church. Captain Bacheller read 
 the service. All her school children 
 came to look upon her, and walked to 
 the churchyard singing as they went. 
 Two of our hymns were also sung. 
 Three weeks afterwards, Miss Stan- 
 ton's body was brought back by the 
 sea, and she was buried beside Ellen. 
 Stones to mark the graves were sent 
 down by their own people. 
 
 107 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 When we broke up the pleasant 
 summer home in October, we es- 
 tablished ourselves at the beautiful 
 Seabrook place, which had been 
 headquarters when we first came. 
 We were much more comfortable than 
 we had been in our first home. To be 
 sure, the roof leaked and we were in 
 danger of being drowned out, but we 
 had become used to that. The win- 
 dows were unglazed, except in those 
 rooms in actual use. There were dis- 
 turbing sounds in the garret where, 
 upon investigation, we saw bones of 
 birds and rats and heard unearthly 
 spittings and hissings from behind a 
 board. We thought these were made 
 
 by '"possums," but later, when a 
 108 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 pretty white owl was caught in the 
 garret, and several flew past our 
 window to the top of the house, 
 we concluded that it was owls and 
 not '"possums" that we heard at dead 
 of night. 
 
 The school was in a building once 
 used as a billiard room, which accom- 
 modated a large number of pupils. 
 We often had a hundred and twenty, 
 and when word went forth that sup- 
 plies had come, the number increased. 
 Indeed, it was so crowded that we told 
 the men and women they must stay 
 away to leave space for the children, 
 as we considered teaching them more 
 important. They left in high dudgeon. 
 
 Our work was easier because the chil- 
 109 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 dren were of a better class and had 
 had some instruction. 
 
 When we made out the school re- 
 port to send to Boston, we were sur- 
 prised that out of the hundred, only 
 three children knew their age, nor had 
 they the slightest idea of it; one large 
 boy told me he was "Three months 
 old." The next day many of them 
 brought pieces of wood or bits of paper 
 with straight marks made on them to 
 show how many years they had lived. 
 One boy brought a family record 
 written in a small book. 
 
 A false report having been circu- 
 lated in Charleston, that the negroes 
 on Edisto were in a state of insurrec- 
 tion, General Beecher sent here early in 
 no 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 December eighty colored soldiers with 
 
 two (white) officers. We helped the 
 
 gentlemen to start their mess, and the 
 
 soldiers were a help to us in many ways. 
 
 We had been inconvenienced by the 
 
 lack of a chimney in the schoolhouse. 
 
 One day when, choking with smoke, 
 
 we asked the children if some of their 
 
 fathers could not come and fix the 
 
 stove, they began, "I haven't any 
 
 father" — "I live with Aunty," and 
 
 so on. We were surprised to learn 
 
 how orphaned our school was. Eight 
 
 of Captain Bacheller's men built a 
 
 chimney for us. In return we gave 
 
 each of them a book, which pleased 
 
 them. They were fine-looking fellows 
 
 and all of them could read, 
 in 
 
A New England JVomatfs 
 
 On New Year's day we went to the 
 dinner given by the Captain to the 
 soldiers. Their mess-room, the old 
 storehouse of the plantation, was dec- 
 orated with pine boughs and gray 
 moss. The men spoke pieces, which 
 they had committed to memory for 
 the first time in their lives, and one, 
 who two years ago did not know his 
 letters, read the Emancipation Proc- 
 lamation. 
 
 In January smallpox broke out 
 
 among the soldiers quartered on our 
 
 place. Many of our scholars took it, 
 
 and we closed the school for five weeks. 
 
 We escaped, although in continual 
 
 danger, for the negroes, even when 
 
 repulsively sick, were so eager for our 
 112 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 gifts of clothing that they forced their 
 way to our very bedrooms, and our 
 carryall, drawn by men, was used to 
 carry the patients to the improvised 
 hospital. Several of our earliest friends 
 on the Whaley place died. When on 
 Monday, February twenty-sixth, we 
 began school again, we had thirteen 
 pupils. One of them, when asked if 
 there was smallpox at her plantation, 
 answered, "No, the last one died Sat- 
 urday." On the third day one hun- 
 dred children had come back. 
 
 Twice we had to go to Charleston. 
 
 Several steamers touched at Edisto, 
 
 but we sailed generally on the John 
 
 Adams, a Boston ferry-boat, which 
 
 "3 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 the fortunes of war had brought to 
 these strange waters. Both times we 
 were detained coming back; once by 
 fog and once by nightfall, which made 
 navigation unsafe because of the ob- 
 structions placed in the river during 
 the war by the Confederates. An- 
 chored out at sea, in an East Boston 
 ferry-boat, literally crammed with 
 blacks, pigs, poultry, and furniture, 
 was, to say the least, uncomfortable. 
 The novelty of these visits was meat, 
 which was a food unknown for months 
 at a time at Edisto; the pleasure was 
 in meeting Mrs. Pillsbury, who was 
 always the same dear, kind lady. They 
 had moved from their beautiful house 
 
 to one that was dark and disagreeable. 
 114 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 A (government) horse was sent to 
 Emily; we had the carryall and a 
 buggy which came from home. We 
 were altogether so comfortable that 
 we invited my sister Elizabeth, my 
 friend Mrs. French, and Emily's sister 
 and her husband to visit us. They 
 came in February; helped us with our 
 school and criticised our housekeeping. 
 
 Robert and Rhoda had come with 
 us from the bay. Rhoda was not the 
 best of cooks, and now that she was 
 "Striving for religion," she and Robert 
 had to go to so many "Shouts" and 
 dances that we moved them into 
 the basement, so that they might not 
 disturb us by their late hours. 
 
 Perhaps this "Striving" was the 
 115 
 
A New England TVomatfs 
 
 cause of her erratic cooking. We ate 
 in silence the dried beef which she 
 fried for breakfast, only wondering 
 why the bacon was so queer. 
 
 Our friends, knowing that Emily 
 was unusually fastidious, were sur- 
 prised that we could live "In such a 
 shiftless way." They said they "Would 
 have things decent and the food 
 properly cooked." We offered them 
 the privilege of employing their New 
 England energy in keeping house for 
 us. One day was enough. At the 
 end of it I asked my friend where she 
 had been all day? "In the kitchen, 
 holding up the stovepipe so that Lizzie 
 could bake!" 
 
 They taught the alphabet to the 
 116 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 little children who had forgotten it 
 during the smallpox vacation, and 
 they clothed the older ones, who went 
 from the school to the house in squads 
 of four or five, coming back completely 
 metamorphosed, their mouths stretched 
 from ear to ear with delight. 
 
 Among the many boxes of clothing 
 sent by our Springfield and Boston 
 friends was one from Mr. Wilcox, the 
 Springfield milliner, filled with Shaker 
 bonnets. The little negroes did not 
 know how to put them on, but they 
 liked them so well that they would not 
 take them off, and the school presented 
 a queer appearance to our guests, who 
 could not know our reason for per- 
 mitting this breach of decorum. 
 117 
 
A New England TVoman^s 
 
 The white people of Edisto have in- 
 deed suffered, but now their homes are 
 to be given back to them. The island 
 negroes and those brought here by 
 our bewildered, blundering Govern- 
 ment have had, and will have, harder 
 days than their masters. Among those 
 that we have known, however painful 
 their experience, and whether accus- 
 tomed formerly to easy routine as 
 house-servants or to rougher field ser- 
 vice, not one among them would 
 choose ease with servitude rather than 
 suffering with freedom. 
 
 In October we saw at the wharf 
 
 several sickly looking families sitting 
 
 round fires, waiting for the steamer to 
 
 carry them off. Two persons who 
 118 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 had died in the night from fever and 
 exposure were lying on the bare ground. 
 In the building which we were to use 
 for our school, were two families in a 
 terrible condition. One mother, who 
 was dying, had seven half-naked and 
 half-starved children. All these people 
 had been too sick to leave by the last 
 boat and had crawled back here. Mr. 
 Alden had them taken care of and fed, 
 for they had already used their small 
 crop for food. Mr. Hubbard, of Bos- 
 ton, to whom I wrote, sent me a bale 
 of blankets to distribute among them. 
 Added to their natural dislike to 
 serve their old masters, many of them 
 have had bitter experiences, which in- 
 crease their unwillingness. One, named 
 119 
 
A New England Woman* s 
 
 Venus, told us that she had just come 
 
 from the "Main," where she had been 
 
 working all summer; she said: "I put 
 
 my finger to pencil to sign contract to 
 
 work all summer for one tenth of the 
 
 crop, and when it was harvested, I had 
 
 one quart of molasses and one bushel 
 
 of corn, and I and my family were 
 
 sent away." She added that she never 
 
 would work for a "Secesh" again. 
 
 Many of them were industrious. One 
 
 warm day in December when we were 
 
 looking for a pupil on the Townsend 
 
 place, who, we were told, lived in 
 
 "The last nigger house on Nigger 
 
 Street," we went into a cabin, where a 
 
 woman was so busy at a cotton-gin 
 
 that she did not turn her head when 
 120 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 she greeted us. We asked how much 
 cotton she could gin a day. "Don* 
 no, missis, no 'casion for to task my- 
 self now; Rebs gone." 
 
 Occasionally they were glad to see 
 their old masters, but I sometimes saw 
 the "How dy" and outstretched hand 
 rejected. Meeting after meeting was 
 held to reconcile them to the changed 
 and difficult conditions. On one oc- 
 casion, when explanations only seemed 
 to create greater antagonism, I ven- 
 tured a remark, and was quickly told 
 by Ishmael, their leader, that I had 
 "Better go into the house and attend 
 to study," thus showing early in his 
 life as freedman, that he had learned 
 the proper sphere of woman. 
 
 121 
 
A New England IVomatfs 
 
 In February, when we went to the 
 Middleton place to pack the trunks 
 which belonged to Miss Kempton and 
 Miss Stanton, we saw all the negroes 
 coming in from the fields, their hoes 
 over their shoulders. They told us 
 that the guard had ordered them to 
 leave the plantation if they would not 
 agree to work for the owners. Sorely 
 troubled they appealed to us. We 
 could only tell them to obey orders. 
 After this many of the Sherman ne- 
 groes left the island. 
 
 In the spring I went home for a 
 
 month to see my father, leaving my 
 
 sister to help Emily with the school. 
 
 During the winter and spring, plant- 
 122 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 ers were coming and going to arrange 
 with the government representative for 
 their repossession. Many of them 
 were gentlemen, who came into our 
 school and whom we entertained at 
 our table, but when they were in pos- 
 session and were joined by their fam- 
 ilies, it was different. The women 
 ignored us. 
 
 In May we moved to the bay 
 
 with our school benches and books, 
 
 and had a large school there, but a 
 
 month later the Freedmen's Bureau 
 
 was dissolved and we were notified 
 
 that our services were no longer needed. 
 
 As we were so well established, we 
 
 obtained permission from the Super- 
 123 
 
A New England Woman's 
 
 intendent of Schools in Charleston to 
 continue, although our large salary 
 of twenty dollars a month was stopped. 
 My salary had always been paid 
 through the Bureau by Mr. Charles 
 Hubbard, of Boston, whose pleasure it 
 was to be responsible for one teacher. 
 
 Mr. Alden was dismissed and the 
 island was again under military super- 
 vision. 
 
 We closed the school in July, but the 
 heat was so intense that we did not 
 wish to travel until it was cooler. 
 
 In September we returned the 
 "Union" horse and confiscated carry- 
 all, which had served us and the 
 smallpox patients, and sent to Gov- 
 ernor Aiken his furniture which we 
 124 
 
Diary in Dixie 
 
 had bought from the negroes; one 
 piece was the armchair given him by 
 his mother when he was elected gov- 
 ernor of South Carolina. 
 
 The houses all about us were occu- 
 pied by Edisto families, who had taken 
 possession of their own. Mr. Edings, 
 the owner of the house we had lived 
 in both summers, wrote that he too 
 wanted to come back. There was no 
 place for us, and in the last week of 
 September, 1866, we said good-by to 
 Edisto and our negro friends. 
 
 125 
 
THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 THE 
 HANES FOUNDATION 
 
 FOR THE STUDY OF THE 
 
 ORIGIN AND DEVELPOMENT 
 
 OF THE BOOK 
 
 ESTABLISHED BY THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 JOHN WESLEY AND 
 
 ANNA HODGIN HANES 
 
 RARE BOOK COLLECTION 
 
 E185.93 
 
 .S7 
 
 A5