July 10th, 1865.—We have always had a late breakfast; early this morning Adeline, who usually has a second nap before she comes to the kitchen to get breakfast, woke us all to tell us she had orders from “dem sojers” to have breakfast ready in ten minutes. There was some hurrying, you may be sure, but even so we were not in time, Mother being the only member of the family to put in an appearance. We’ll do better tomorrow.
Ever “sence freedom drapped,” we have had trouble with the milkers. The cows would be left standing for hours, and we would not have fresh milk for the morning’s meal. The poor little calves would call mournfully for their mothers, until some one of the household would turn them together. Of course, at such times we had no milk. Today Pat elected to leave the cows and calves to shift for themselves, but it did not work. Cornell and Hibell came in, each with a foaming pail of milk and, not even looking towards us, said in a gruff voice, “Strain it, and put it up.” This is something I know all about for “Granny Vi’let’s” spotless dairy was ever an attractive place to me. I suppose we are to obey the guard also. Pat got her deserts, but I am a wee bit sorry for her.
Father has found out that we have two Union soldiers on the plantation and he is glad they are here. He is too ill to manage the negroes himself.
