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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, I. Across Sherman's track (December 19-24, 1864) (search)
braid that Cousin Sallie Farley gave me. I think I must have looked nice, because I heard several people inquiring who I was when I went into the dining-room. I had hardly put in the last pin when a servant came to announce that Mr. Charles Day, Mary's father, had called. He was the only person in the drawing-room when I entered and made a very singular, not to say, striking appearance, with his snowwhite hair framing features of such a peculiar dark complexion that he made me think of some antique piece of wood-carving. The impression was strengthened by a certain stiffness of manner that is generally to be noticed in all men of Northern birth and education. Not long after, Harry Day called. He said that Mary This attractive and accomplished young woman afterwards became the wife of Sidney Lanier, America's greatest poet. was in Savannah, cut off by Sherman so that they could get no news of her. He didn't even know whether mother's invitation had reached her. Gussie and
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 3 (search)
at de bar of God, I heerd a mighty lumber. Hit was my sin fell down to hell Jes' like a clap er thunder. Mary she come runnin‘ by, Tell how she weep an' wonder. Mary washin‘ up Jesus' feet, De angel walkin‘ up de golden street, Run home, believer; oh, run home, believer! Run home, believer, run home. Another one, sung to a kind of chant, begins this way: King Jesus he tell you Fur to fetch ‘im a hoss an' a mule; He tek up Mary behine ‘im, King Jesus he went marchin‘ befo‘. Chorus.- Christ was born on Chris'mus day; Mary was in pain. Christ was born on Chris'mus day, King Jesus was his name. The chorus to another of their songs is: I knoMary was in pain. Christ was born on Chris'mus day, King Jesus was his name. The chorus to another of their songs is: I knowed it was a angel, I knowed it by de groanin‘. I mean to make a collection of these songs some day and keep them as a curiosity. The words are mostly endless repetitions, with a wild jumble of misfit Scriptural allusions, but the tunes are inspiring. They are mostly a sort of weird chant that makes me feel all out
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 4 (search)
were awakened by a lovely serenade, and I gave myself a sore throat trotting over the house bare-footed, hunting for flowers to throw to the serenaders. Mett and Mary had all that were in the house in their room, and would not give the rest of us any. Their finest bouquet lodged in the boughs of a spreading willow oak near the wys yet. If ever I do get back home again, I will stay there till the war is over. April 8, Saturday Cousin Bolling has returned from his visit to Americus. Mary, Lizzie, Mett, and I went to the depot to meet him and hear the news, then took a walk through Lovers' Lane, a beautiful shady road that runs through woods so thic April 1, Tuesday I slept all the morning and was only wakened in the afternoon by Mary Joyner pulling at my feet and telling me to get up for dinner. I like Mary. Her manner is abrupt, but she is generosity itself. Her devotion to the sick and wounded soldiers is beautiful. Often she will go without her dinner and always
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 7 (search)
Cousin Bolling came over this afternoon, and we had a pleasant little chat together till the buggy was brought round for Mary and me to drive. We went out the Abbeville road, and met four soldiers just released from the hospitals, marching cheerild to enjoy telling of their adventures. Two of them had very bright, intelligent faces, and one smiled so pleasantly that Mary and I agreed it was worth driving five miles just to see him. I told them that the sight of their gray coats did my heart ouse next Monday. Jule Toombs has gone out with her, and several others are invited to meet us there. The more I know of Mary, the better I like her; she is so thoroughly good-hearted . . June 14, Wednesday We all spent the morning at Mrs. Prass buttons and gold lace. Gen. Elzey took tea with us and the Lawtons called afterwards to see Col. Cabel. Capt. and Mary Semmes, Ed Morgan, Will Ficklen, and a number of others, came round in the face of a big thunder cloud, to dance. We had
Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 8 (search)
hing Jenny did to spare him. He is accustomed to have people shake hands with him when they are introduced, as that is the only form of greeting he can perceive, and when Jenny introduced Mary Lane, he put out his hand as usual, for her to take. Mary wasn't noticing, and failed to respond, so Jenny quietly slipped her own hand into his, and he never knew the difference. I wonder, though, he didn't detect the subterfuge, for the touch of blind people is very sensitive, and Jenny's hand is so eur war friends, took his leave. He sets out for New Orleans on Wednesday, but will return in a month or two for his family. I expect Gen. Wild will have you up by the thumbs next, he said to me laughing, as he moved away. You and Miss Metta and Mary would make a pretty trio, with your three red heads. I hope, I answered, that my new shoes will come before I am strung up, for I believe the operation is very exposing to the feet. It seems unfeeling to jest about such things, and yet, we a