IN August of 1867 my father died, and as soon after as I was able I went down to the South to carry on his work, and to look after the negroes, who loved him so dearly and to whom he was so much attached. My brother-in-law went with me, and we reached Butler's Island in November. The people were indeed like sheep without a shepherd, and seemed dazed.

We had engaged a gentleman as overseer in Savannah, and appointed another our financial agent for the coming year, and besides this all my father's affairs were in the hands of an executor appointed by the Court to settle his estate, but before anything else could be done the negroes had to be settled with for the past two years, and their share of the crops divided according to the amount due to each man. My father had given each negro a little pass-book, in which had been entered from time to time the food, clothing, and money which each had received from him on account. Of these little books there were over three hundred, which represented their debits; then there was the large plantation ledger, in which an account of the work each man had, or had not, done every day for nearly two years, had been entered, which represented their credits. To the task of balancing these two accounts I set myself, wishing to feel sure that it was fairly done, and also because I knew the negroes would be more satisfied with my settlement.

Night after night, when the days work was over, I sat up till two and three o'clock in the morning, going over and over the long line of figures, and by degrees got them pretty straight. I might have saved myself the trouble. Not one negro understood it a bit, but all were quite convinced they had been cheated, most of them thinking that each man was entitled to half the crop. I was so anxious they should understand and see they had been fairly dealt with, that I went over and over again each man's account with him, and would begin, ‘Well, Jack (or Quash, or Nero, as the case might be), you got on such a date ten yards of homespun from your master.’ ‘Yes, missus, massa gave me dat.’ ‘Then on such and such a day you had ten dollars.’ ‘Yes, missus, dat so.’ And so on to the end of their debits, all of which they acknowledged as just at once. (I have thought since they were not clever enough to conceive the idea of disputing that part of the business.) When all these items were named and agreed to, I read the total amount, and then turned to the work account. And here the trouble began, every man insisting upon it that he had not missed one day in the whole two years, and had done full work each day. So after endless discussions, which always ended just where they began, I paid them the money due to them, which was always received with the same remark, ‘Well, well, work for massa two whole years, and only get dis much.’ Finding that their faith in my father's justice never wavered, I repeated and repeated and repeated, ‘But I am paying you from your master's own books and accounts.’ But the answer was always the same, ‘No, no, missus, massa not treat us so.’ Neither, oddly enough, did they seem to think I wished to cheat them, but that I was powerless to help matters, one man saying to me one day, ‘You see, missus, a woman ain't much 'count.’ I learnt very soon how useless all attempts at ‘making them sensible’ (as they themselves express it) were, and after a time, used to pay them their wages and tell them to be off, without allowing any of the lengthy arguments and discourses over their payments they wished to indulge in, often more, I think, with an idea of asserting their independence and dignity, than from any real belief that they were not properly paid.

Their love for, and belief in my father, was beyond expression, and made me love them more than I can say. They never spoke of him without some touching and affectionate expression that comforted me far more than words uttered by educated lips could have done. One old woman said, ‘Missus, dey tell me dat at de North people have to pay to get buried. Massa pay no money here; his own people nurse him, his own people bury him, and his own people grieve for him.’ Another put some flowers in a tumbler by the grave; and another basin, water, and towels, saying, ‘If massa's spirit come, I want him see dat old Nanny not forget how he call every morning for water for wash his hands;’ and several of them used the expression in speaking of his death, ‘Oh, missus, our back jest broke.’ No wonder I loved them.

Their religion, although so mixed up with superstition, was very real, and many were the words of comfort I got from them. One day, when I was crying, an old woman put her arms round me and said, ‘Missus, don't cry; it vex de Lord. I had tirteen children, and I ain't got one left to put even a coal in my pipe, and if I did not trust de Lord Jesus, what would become of me?’

I am sorry to say, however, that finding my intention was to alter nothing that my father had arranged, some of them tried to take advantage of it, one man assuring me his master had given him a grove of orange trees, another several acres of land, and so on, always embellished with a story of his own long and useful services, for which ‘Massa say, Boy, I gib you dis for your own.’

Notwithstanding their dissatisfaction at the settlement, six thousand dollars was paid out among them, many getting at much as two or three hundred apiece. The result was that a number of them left me and bought land of their own, and at one time it seemed doubtful if I should have hands at all left to work. The land they bought, and paid forty, fifty dollars and even more for an acre, was either within the town limits, for which they got no titles, and from which they were soon turned off, or out in the pine woods, where the land was so poor they could not raise a peck of corn to the acre. These lands were sold to them by a common class of men, principally small shopkeepers and Jews (the gentlemen refusing to sell their land to the negroes, although they occasionally rented it to them), and most frightfully cheated the poor people were. But they had got their land, and were building their little log cabins on it, fully believing that they were to live on their property and incomes the rest of their lives, like gentlemen.

The baneful leaven of politics had begun working among them, brought to the South by the lowest set of blackguards who ever undertook the trade, making patriotism in truth the ‘last refuge of a scoundrel,’ as Dr. Johnson facetiously defines it, and themselves ‘factious disturbers of the Government,’ according to his equally pleasant definition of a patriot. Only in this case they came accredited from the Government, and the agent of the Freedmen's Bureau was our master, one always ready to believe the wildest complaints from negroes, and to call the whites to account for the same.

A negro carpenter complained that a gentleman owed him fifty dollars for work done, so without further inquiry or any trial, the agent sent the gentleman word to pay at once, or he would have him arrested, the sheriff at that time being one of his own former slaves. My brother-in-law, who was with me this year, for a short time was a Northern man and a strong Republican in his feelings, this being the first visit he had ever paid to the South. But such a high-handed proceeding as this astonished him, and he expressed much indignation at it, and declared he would send an account of it to a Republican paper in Philadelphia, as the people at the North had no idea of the real state of things at the South. He had also expressed himself surprised and pleased at the courteous reception he had received, although known to be a Northerner, and also at the quietness of the country generally. I told him they would not publish his letter in the Philadelphia paper, and I was right, they did not.

A rather amusing incident occurred while he was with me. Having been in quiet possession of our property on St. Simon's Island for two years, we were suddenly notified one day, I never quite knew by whom, and in those days it was not easy always to know who our lawgivers were, that St. Simon's Island came under the head of abandoned property, being occupied by former owners, who, through contempt of the Government and President's authority, had refused to make application for its restoration under the law. ‘Therefore,’ so ran the order, ‘such property shall be confiscated on the first day of January next, unless before that date the owners present themselves before the authorities (?), take the required oath of allegiance to the Government, and ask for its restoration.’ This nothing would induce me to do, the whole thing was so preposterous, but my brother-in-law decided that under the circumstances it was better to obey. So he, a strong Republican, who had first voted for Lincoln and then for Grant, had never been at the South before in his life, and during the war had done all in his power to aid and support the Northern Government, even gallantly offering his services to his country when Pennsylvania was threatened by General Lee before the battle of Gettysburgh, had to go and take the oath of allegiance to the United States Government on behalf of his wife's property, she also having always sympathised with the Northern cause, and having been so bitter in her feelings at first as to refuse to receive a Southerner her house.

What a farce it was! My brother-in-law could not help being amused, it was such an absurd position to find himself in, and he declared it all came of ever putting his foot in this miserable Southern country at all, and he had no doubt the result would be that on his return to the North he would find all his Northern property confiscated, and be hung as a rebel. He soon after left me, and then my real troubles began. It seemed quite hopeless ever to get the negroes to settle down to steady work, and although they still professed the greatest affection for and faith in me, it certainly did not show itself in works. My new agent assured me that there must be a contract made and signed with the negroes, binding them for a year, in order to have any hold upon them at all, and I am not sure that the Freedmen's Bureau agent did not require such an agreement to be drawn up and submitted to him for approval before having it signed. Whether they were right or not as regarded the hold it gave us over the labourers I cannot say. I think possibly it impressed them a little more with the sense of their obligations, but after having two of them run off in spite of the solemnity of the contract, and having to pay something like twenty dollars to the authorities to fetch them back, we didn't trouble ourselves much about enforcing it after that. At first the negroes flatly refused to sign any contract at all, having been advised by some of their Northern friends not to do so, as it would put them back to their former condition of slavery, and my agents were quite powerless to make them come to any terms. So I determined to try what my personal influence would accomplish.

The day before I was to have my interview with the Butler's Island people, I received a most cheerful note from Major D - , saying that he had paid off all the hands at St. Simon's, who seemed perfectly satisfied, and were quite willing to contract again for another year. I felt a little surprised at this, as it is not the negro's nature to be satisfied with anything but plenty to eat and idleness, but was rejoicing over the news, when I was summoned to the office to see six of the Hampton Point people who had just arrived from St. Simon's. There they were, one and all with exactly the same story as the people here, reserved for my benefit as their proper mistress and protector; ‘that they had not received full credit for their day's work, had been underpaid and overcharged,’ &c.&c. winding up with, ‘Missus, de people wait to see you down dere, and dey won't sign de contract till you come.’ ‘But,’ said I, in despair, ‘I can't possibly leave here for a week at least, and the work must begin there at once, or we shall get in no crop this year.’ But in vain; they merely said, ‘We wait, missus, till you come.’ ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘I'll go to-morrow. Only, mind you are all there, for I must be back here the next day to have this contract signed.’

The next morning, at a little after seven, I started for St. Simon's in my small boat, rowed by my two favourite men, reaching there about ten, and taking Major D - utterly by surprise, as he knew nothing of what had happened. From the way the negroes spoke the day before, one would have supposed the mere sight of my face would have done, but not one signed the contract without a long argument on the subject, most of them refusing to sign at all, though they all assured me they wished to work for me as long ‘as de Lord spared dem.’ I knew, however, too well, that this simply meant that they were willing to continue to live on St. Simon's as long as the Lord spared them, but not to work, so I was firm, and said, ‘No, you must sign or go away.’ So one by one, with groans and sighs, they put their marks down opposite to their names, and by five I had them all in. At nine o'clock, on the first of the flood tide, I started back, reaching Butler's Island at midnight, nearly frozen, but found my maid, who really was everything to me that year, waiting for me with a blazing fire and hot tea ready to warm me.

The next morning at ten, I had the big mill bell rung to summon the people here to sign the contract, and then my work began in earnest. For six mortal hours I sat in the office without once leaving my chair, while the people poured in and poured out, each one with long explanations, objections, and demonstrations. I saw that even those who came fully intending to sign would have their say, so after interrupting one man and having him say gravely, ‘ 'Top, missus, don't cut my discourse,’ I sat in a state of dogged patience and let everyone have his talk out, reading the contract over and over again as each one asked for it, answering their many questions and meeting their many objections as best I could. One wanted this altered in the contract, and another that. One was willing to work in the mill but not in the field. Several would not agree to sign unless I promised to give them the whole of Saturday for a holiday. Others, like the St. Simon's people, would ‘work for me till they died,’ but would put their hand to no paper. And so it went on all day, each one ‘making me sensible,’ as he called it.

But I was immovable. ‘No, they must sign the contract as it stood.’ ‘No, I could not have anyone work without signing.’ ‘No, they must work six days and rest on Sunday,’ &c.,&c. Till at last, six o'clock in the evening came and I closed the books with sixty-two names down, which was a good deal of a triumph, as my agent told me he feared none would sign the contract, they were so dissatisfied with last year's settlement. Even old Henry, one of the captains, and my chief friend and supporter, said in the morning, ‘Missus, I bery sorriful, for half de people is going to leave.’ ‘Oh no, they won't, Henry,’ said I. But I thought sixty-two the first day, good work, though I had a violent attack of hysterics afterwards, from fatigue and excitement. Only once did I lose my temper and self-control, and that was when one man, after showing decided signs of insolence, said, ‘Well, you sign my paper first, and then I'll sign yours.’ ‘No,’ I replied in a rage, ‘I'll neither sign yours nor you mine. Go out of the room and off the place instantly.’ But I soon saw how foolish I was, for looking up five minutes after, I beheld the same man standing against the door with a broad grin on his face, who, when I looked at him in perfect astonishment, said with the most perfect good nature, ‘I'se come back to sign, missus.’

The next day, Sunday, I tried to keep clear of the people, both for rest and because I wanted to make some arrangements for my school, the young teacher having arrived on Friday.

Monday morning the bell again rang, and though I did not see more than twenty-five people, I was again in the office from ten A.M. to six P.M., and found it far more unpleasant than on Saturday, as I had several troublesome, bad fellows to deal with. One man, who proposed leaving the place without paying his debts, informed me, when I told him he must pay first, ‘he'd see if he hadn't a law as well as I;’ and another positively refused to work or leave the place, so he had to be informed that if he was not gone in three days he would be put off, which had such an effect that he came the next day and signed, and worked well afterwards.

Tuesday and Wednesday my stragglers came dropping in, the last man arriving under a large cotton umbrella, very defiant that he would not sign unless he could have Saturday for a holiday. ‘Five days I'll work, but (with a flourish of the umbrella) I works for no man on Saturday.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘William, I am sorry, but you can't work for me, for any man who works for me must work on Saturday.’ ‘Good morning, den, missus,’ says my man, with another flourish of the umbrella, and departs. About an hour afterwards he returned, much subdued, with the umbrella shut, which I thought a good sign, and informed me that after ‘much consideration wid himself,’ he had returned to sign. So that ended it, and only two men really went - one from imagined ill-health, and one I dismissed for insubordination. The gentlemen seemed to think I had done wonders, and I was rather astonished at myself, but nothing would ever induce me to do such a thing again.

The backbone of the opposition thus broken, and the work started more or less steadily, I turned my thoughts to what I considered my principal work, and belonging more to my sphere than what I had been engaged in up to that time. I was anxious to have the negroes' houses, which were terribly dilapidated, repaired and whitewashed, a school opened, and the old hospital building repaired and put in order for the following purposes. One of the four big rooms the people had taken possession of for a church, the old one being some three miles distant, at one of the upper settlements, and this I determined to let them keep, and to use one of the others for the school; one for the old women who couldn't work, and the other for the young married women to be confined in, as, since the war, they bring their children into the world anyhow and anywhere, in their little cabins, where men, women, and children run in and out indiscriminately, so that it is both wretched and improper.

The people did not seem to like either of my proposals too much; especially the old plantation midwife, who is indignant at her work being taken away from her. But as I find she now makes the charge of five dollars for each case, the negroes naturally decline employing her on their own account. I hoped by degrees to bring them to approve of my arrangements, by showing them how much more comfortable they would be in my hospital, and by presenting the babies born there with some clothes, and the old women who lived there with blankets, to make them like it. (I never did succeed, however, and after several attempts, had to give it up.)

I had one or two pupils at the same time, and found the greatest difference between the genuine full-blooded African and the mulattoes. The first, although learning to repeat quickly, like a clever parrot, did not really take in an idea, while the other was as intelligent as possible. I felt sure then, and still think, the pure negro incapable of advancement to any degree that would enable him to cope with the white race intellectually, morally, or even physically. My white maid took infinite pains to show them the best, quickest, as well as simplest way of doing the house-work, absolutely taking their breath away by the way she worked herself, but without much effect, as the instant her back was turned they went back to their old lazy, slipshod ways of doing things. Her efforts to make them tidy in their dress were very amusing, and one morning, finding my young housemaid working with her sunbonnet on, I said, ‘Why do you keep your bonnet on, Christine?’ Upon which, without any reply, she pulled the said bonnet down over her eyes, and my maid informed me she had come to work in the morning without brushing her hair, so for punishment had to wear her sun-bonnet. The women showed a strong inclination to give up wearing their pretty, picturesque head handkerchiefs, ‘because white people didn't,’ but I was very strict about the house servants never coming without one on, for their black woolly heads did look too ugly without their usual covering, which in itself was so handsome, and gave them so much style, and in some cases beauty.

A few days after the contract was signed I started the school, which I hoped would be a success. The teacher was a young country lad just fresh from college; clever enough, but very conceited, with no more manners than a young bear, which, however, I hoped he might learn in time from the negroes in return for some book learning, as they generally are singularly gentle and courteous in their manners. I had school in the morning for the children, and in the evening for the young people who worked in the fields. This is decidedly the most popular, and we have over fifty scholars, some of them quite old men - much too old to learn, and much in the way of the younger ones, but so zealous that I could not bear to turn them away.

Besides teaching school, my young man was to take charge of the store, which I found too much for me. My father's object in opening the store was to give the negroes good things at cost price, in order to save them from paying three times the price for most inferior goods in Darien, where a number of small shops had been opened. But we did not take into consideration the heavy loss it must entail upon us not to put even profit enough on the things to cover our own expenses, and we sold them to the negroes at exactly what we paid for them in Philadelphia, bearing all the cost of transportation and spoilt goods, so that at the end of the following year I found the store just three thousand dollars out of pocket, and so decided to shut it up, especially as I found that, notwithstanding our giving the negroes the very best things at cost price, they much preferred going to Darien to spend their money on inferior goods and at greatly increased rates. I suppose, poor people, it was natural they should like to swagger a little, and spend their newly, but certainly not hardly-earned money freely, and it was an immense relief to my pocket and labours to give up shop-keeping, although we only had it open for about two hours every afternoon.

But all this time, while we were getting things more and more settled on the place, the troubles from outside were drawing nearer and nearer as the day for voting approached, and in March burst upon us in the shape of political meetings and excitement of all kinds. Two or three Northern political agents arrived in Darien, and summoned all the negroes to attend meetings, threatening them with various punishments if they stayed away. I in vain reasoned with the negroes, and did all in my power to prevent their attending these meetings, and told them no one could punish them for not going: not because I cared in the least which way they voted, but because it interfered so terribly with their work. I doubled the watchmen at night, and did all I could to prevent strangers landing on the Island; but one morning found that during the night a notice had been put up on the wharf, calling upon all the people to attend a political meeting on pain of being fined five hundred dollars, or exiled to a foreign land. As the meeting was some way off, and the election followed in a few days, I knew that if the people once broke off, no more work would be done for at least a week, and this was just the time one of our plantings had to be put in, which, as we can only do it on the spring tides, would have cost me just two hundred acres of rice. So I argued and threatened, and told them it was all rubbish - no one could either exile or fine them, and that they must not go to the meeting at all, and when the day for voting came must do all their day's work first and vote afterwards; which they easily could have done, having always finished their day's work by three o'clock, and the voting place not being half a mile off.

It was useless, however. My words were powerless, the negroes naturally thinking that the people who had freed them could do anything they liked, and must be obeyed; so they not only prepared to go to the meeting, but, I knew, would not do a stroke of work on the voting days. At last, in despair, I wrote to General Meade, who was then the military commander of our district, and a personal acquaintance of mine, to tell him what was going on, and ask him if it was impossible that the planters should be protected from these political disturbers and agitators. I received the following answer and order from him almost immediately: -