I found in a _London
News_ and nailed up in the entry yesterday! He's bound to go North
with Mass' Charlie. If he expects to live in such a mansion I don't
wonder he wishes to.

_Saturday, March 7._ If you could have seen Rose's astonishment this
morning when she comprehended that the clock was not alive! I made
her tell me what time it was, which she did successfully, and then, as
she stood gazing at the minute-hand "move so fast," I said, "Yes, it
is going all the time--it never stops." "No rest for eat?" she said
with the utmost innocence; and when I told her it was not alive and
did not need to eat, she was quite sure the pendulum must be if the
hands were not.

[_March 10._[119]] Some instructions about cleaning up led me to ask
Rose if she liked dirt, to which she replied, like a true Yankee, with
the question, "Miss Hay't, you like um? You no like um, I no like um."
A little while after, she got talking about "Maussa" and Cockloft;
when I asked what she would do if she should see Mr. Coffin come here,
she said, "I run," "dey bad." Oh, no, not bad, I guess. "Miss Hay't"
(you have no idea how short it is, almost "Hat"), "you shum? [see 'em]
Well, you do'no; I shum, I know."

[_Nov. 1._] "I say praise for you, 'cause I mind you," said Rose to me
in her affectionate way this morning. She tames slowly, as Mr. Soule
and I thought when we came home from riding this morning and saw her
waiting for us at the entrance of the path on the beach turning
somersaults on the sand! Her hands would appear high in the air, when
suddenly her heels would be in their place! Yesterday morning she
said: "Miss Hayiut, you gwine let me go home to-day for wash?" Yes,
Rose, if you are a good girl. "Yes, _Ma'am_, me gwine be good girl, my
contans [conscience] say, 'Rose, you be good girl, not make Miss
Hayiut talk.'"

To return to H. W.'s letter of March 7:

We drove up to church and heard the text read for the first time! H.
was not there, so we went there to dinner again, probably for the last
time, as we found the places are really to be sold to-morrow. Mr.
Philbrick hopes to be through with collecting the cotton in a
fortnight, and then they will be able to come down here, as he can go
to Beaufort once a week for a night or two until it is all ginned and
shipped, and then they will go home.

The next letters return to the all-absorbing matter of the
land-sales. The opening paragraph refers to them and the way
th