This is Aunt Sue’s birthday; and she is spending the day with us. She brought the boys and Teresa and little Mary Eliza, who is a darling. Cousin Henry Whitaker is here, Aunt Sue and Mother love him dearly; but he hurt Aunt Sue’s feelings today. He is a great tease and sometimes he is not as careful as he should be not to give offense. Since all this trouble between the North and South, there is a tendency to say disagreeable things and you often hear of “Yankees” and always in derision. Everybody does not do this but you do hear it sometimes. Cousin Henry lives in North Carolina and we do not see him often, Aunt Sue called her children to speak to him and as he shook hands with the dear little boys he said: “Well, Sue, what are you going to make of these little Yankees ?”
Uncle Arvah is a New Yorker by birth and it was a thrust at him and Aunt Sue was angry and hurt; the children did not know what was meant. It is a pity to “stir up strife.”
We had a very happy Christmas; just as good as if John Brown had never stirred up so much that was terrible. The scene on the back porch was just as merry; the presents were as joyfully received, the drinks as eagerly quaffed and the good wishes, which, with the negroes, correspond to toasts, were as heartily spoken. I do not believe it will be easy to turn our dear black folks against us though no doubt the abolitionists will keep on trying.
Inside the house we had a lovely time; the day was bright and beautiful. Father is well again; Uncle Richard and Aunt Nancy and all the boys took dinner with us; Cousin Bettie is at school in New York City; she is studying music under Francis H. Brown, the composer. Cousin Rob and I had such a good time. Christmas night we spent the evening at Dr. Holland’s. I forgot to say that Sister Mag and Brother Amos, Cousin Sarah and Cousin William and sweet little Nannie, their pretty baby and Brother Junius, of course, were with us Christmas day. We all went together to Greenwood, we always have a delightful time when we go there and this Christmas Cousin Mag and Dr. Betton were there, too. Dr. Holland does not allow dancing but we played games and had music, both vocal and instrumental, and everything good you could think of to eat. It was a set supper, for this is the way we do things in our neighborhood; all the house-keepers vie with each other in entertaining and not one surpasses Mother, if I do say it myself.
This is the day John Brown is to be hung. We are not going to school today for Miss Platt is sick in bed with a headache. When Fanny took her breakfast upstairs to her she would not open the door, just said she did not wish any. I took her dinner to her but she answered me through the half-opened door that she was too ill to eat. I asked if I could send the doctor to her but she did not want him; said she often had such attacks and she would be well in the morning; said she did not wish to be disturbed at supper time.
Sister Mart is a young lady now and does not go to school any more. I study music with Miss Platt and Sister Mart is carrying on her music with an extra fine teacher in Tallahassee. We both study French under a language master, who is a native Frenchman. There are some rumors that he is an abolitionist and a watch has been put upon his movements. Isn’t it dreadful to have to suspect every stranger?
Mattie and Lucy do not like Miss Platt; she does not like them either and lets them see it. There is something strange about her; she does not care to sit with us at night and rarely speaks except to answer a question. I went to her room yesterday to carry her some oranges, to keep in her room, so that she could eat them whenever she wished and when I knocked at her door she had to unlock it, in the daytime—just think!
Well, in spite of Ossawatimie Brown and all the trouble his diabolical efforts have called up we have another governess from the North. She is not like anyone we have had before. I do not believe she has ever taught school in her life. She has no idea of discipline or order in arranging studies; she is a good music-teacher and when I asked if she liked to teach music, she said she had never taught anything else until now.
Governor Wise and the Court in Virginia have condemned John Brown to death and he is to be hanged on the 2nd of December. The New York paper says he is a fanatic and believes he is right in trying to incite insurrection among the slaves of the South. I am sorry for any man who has a nature so depraved that murder and arson seem right to him.
Judge Baltzell thinks the negroes will rise up on that day and apply the torch as Brown urged them to do, but Father does not think so, neither does Brother Junius.
The horrible, horrible time that has come to us; our world seems turned topsy turvy. We feel that we can trust none of the dear black folks who, before this, we had relied on at every turn. I am afraid to say a word for fear it will prove to be just what should have been left unsaid.
When the mail comes in we crowd about the mail-bag as though something could be told by looking at the outside and, when it is opened, some one must read the news aloud, the news from Virginia, for we are impatient. What will become of us? Will our Father in Heaven let us be destroyed? Will the people we have always loved put the torch to our homes and murder us when we seek to escape? This is what John Brown was urging them to do.
I cannot see that there has been any change; Lulu is just as good and kind as ever; the rest are more quiet but they do not seem disturbed or ill natured. Frances said to me last night, “Do you understand what all this is about?” I told her I did not; I told her we would know more after a few days. She laughed, a crazy kind of laugh, and said: “Yes, you will; you white folks will know a heap you ain’t never knowed before,” and then she ran out of the room. I did not tell this, for I am sure she has heard something I have not and if I keep quiet she may tell me more.
The newspapers from Richmond and from New York come daily and they give the details of proceedings in Virginia. It is more exciting than anything I have ever read either in history or fiction.
