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Jenny (search for this): chapter 3
st and the waters are beginning to subside, but the roads are terrible. We have had a mail at last, too, and a long letter from home giving us carte blanche as to future movements; as dear old father expressed it: Go where you please, when you please, do what you please and call on Mr. Farley or Mr. Butler for all the money you need. That is the way I like to be treated. I think now we will go to Chunnennuggee by way of Eufaula and the Chattahoochee. The river trip would be pleasant, and Jenny and Julia Toombs are with their aunt in Eufaula, who has invited us to meet them there. However, our movements are so uncertain that I don't like to make engagements. We will stop a few days in Cuthbert with the Joyners, anyway. March 21, Tuesday. Albany Pouring down rain again, but the carriage had to go to Albany anyway, to meet sister, and Mecca was hurried home by news of the death of her aunt, so I rode in to the station with her. The roads are horrible-covered with water mos
Mackall (search for this): chapter 3
a, he said, and promised to do his best to keep the raiders from getting to us. Jan. 21, Saturday. Albany, Ga I never in all my life knew such furious rains as we had last night; it seemed as if the heavens themselves were falling upon us. In addition to the uproar among the elements, my slumbers were disturbed by frightful dreams about Garnett. Twice during the night I dreamed that he was dead and in a state of corruption, and I couldn't get anybody to bury him. Col. Avery and Capt. Mackall were somehow mixed up in the horrid vision, trying to help me, but powerless to do so. In the morning, when we waked, I found that Metta also had dreamed of Garnett's death. I am not superstitious, but I can't help feeling more anxious than usual to hear news of my darling brother. The rain held up about dinner time and Mrs. Sims determined to return to Albany, in spite of high waters and the threatening aspect of the sky. We went five miles out of our way to find a place where we c
Mary (search for this): chapter 3
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
Vason (search for this): chapter 3
artist of note, and she showed us some beautiful pictures painted by him. After dinner we enjoyed some Florida oranges sent by Clinton Spenser, and they tasted very good, in the absence of West India fruits. Jan. 25, Wednesday Dined at Judge Vason's, where there was a large company. He is very hospitable and his house is always full of people. Albert Bacon came in from Gum Pond and called in the afternoon, bringing letters, and the letters brought permission to remain in South-West Gepped about dinner-time and it was beautifully clear when I drove to the depot for sister. She was very tired and went directly to Mrs. Sims's, but Mecca and I walked down Broad street to the post office, where we were joined by Mr. Godfrey and Dr. Vason. They and a number of others called in the evening. March 22, Wednesday Up very early and drove to the depot with Mecca. Mr. Godfrey was there and proposed that we should go as far as Smithville with her, and let him drive me out home
Tanner (search for this): chapter 3
egard to that deplorable episode of the war. Owing to the policy of the Federal Government in refusing to exchange prisoners, and to the ruin and devastation of war, which made it impossible for the Confederate government to provide adequately for its own soldiers, even with the patriotic aid of our women, the condition of our prisons was anything but satisfactory, both from lack of supplies and from the unavoidable over-crowding caused by the failure of all efforts to effect an exchange. Mr. Tanner, ex-Commander of the G. A. R., who is the last person in the world whom one would think of citing as a witness for the South, bears this unconscious testimony to the force of circumstances that made it impossible for our government to remedy that unhappy situation: It is true that more prisoners died in Northern prisons than Union prisoners died in Southern prisons. The explanation of this is extremely simple. The Southern prisoners came North worn and emaciated-half starved. Th
Wirz (search for this): chapter 3
had reached this condition because of their scant rations. They came from a mild climate to a rigorous Northern climate, and, although we gave them shelter and plenty to eat, they could not stand the change. This argument, intended as a defense of the North, is a boomerang whose force as a weapon for the other side it is unnecessary to point out. Whether the conditions at Andersonville might have been ameliorated by the personal efforts of those in charge, I do not know. I never met Capt. Wirz, but I do know that had he been an angel from heaven, he could not have changed the pitiful tale of suffering from privation and hunger unless he had possessed the power to repeat the miracle of the loaves and fishes. I do know, too, that the sufferings of the prisoners were viewed with the deepest compassion by the people of the neighborhood, as the diary will show, and they would gladly have relieved them if they had been able. In the fall of 1864, when it was feared that Sherman would
S. S. Andrews (search for this): chapter 3
he officer to let them wait till she could have what food she could spare cooked for them. This, however, being impossible, she had potatoes and turnips and whatever else could be eaten raw, hastily collected by the servants and strewn in the road before them. I have before me, as I write, a very kind letter from an old Union soldier, in which he says that he was one of the men fed on this occasion, and he adds: I still feel thankful for the help we got that day. He gives his name as S. S. Andrews, Co. K, 64th Ohio Vols., and his present address as Tularosa, Mexico. But it is hardly to be expected that men half-crazed by suffering and for the most part ignorant of their own government's responsibility in the matter, should discriminate very closely in apportioning the blame for their terrible condition. Accustomed to the bountiful provision made for its soldiers by the richest nation in the world, they naturally enough could not see the tragic humor of their belief, when sudd
Noe (search for this): chapter 3
danger was over before he knew of its existence, but communication was so slow and uncertain in those days that a long correspondence at cross purposes ensued before his mind was set at rest. It may seem strange to the modern reader that in the midst of such tremendous happenings we could find it in our hearts to go about the common business of life; to laugh and dance and be merry in spite of the crumbling of the social fabric about us. But so it has always been; so it was in the days of Noe, and so, we are told, will it be in the end of the world. Youth will have its innings, and never was social life in the old South more full of charm than when tottering to its fall. Southwest Georgia, being the richest agricultural section of the State, and remote from the scene of military operations, was a favorite resort at that time for refugees from all parts of the seceded States, and the society of every little country town was as cosmopolitan as that of our largest cities had been b
Millen (search for this): chapter 3
efugees from all parts of the seceded States, and the society of every little country town was as cosmopolitan as that of our largest cities had been before the war. The dearth of men available for social functions that was so conspicuous in other parts of the Confederacy remote from the seat of war, did not exist here, because the importance of so rich an agricultural region as a source of food supply for our armies, and the quartering of such large bodies of prisoners at Andersonville and Millen, necessitated the presence of a large number of officers connected with the commissary and quartermaster's departments. These were, for the most part, men who, on account of age, or chronic infirmity, or injuries received in battle, were unfit for service in the field. There were large hospitals, too, in all the towns and villages to which disabled soldiers from the front were sent as fast as they were able to bear the transportation, in order to relieve the congestion in the neighborhood
Julia (search for this): chapter 3
or by the women of the South till the end of the war. My sister's white family at the time of our arrival consisted of herself and two little children, Tom and Julia, and Mr. Butler's invalid sister, Mrs. Julia Meals, a pious widow of ample means which it was her chief ambition in life to spend in doing good. The household wasabode there. Jan. 1st, 1865. Sunday. Pine Bluff A beautiful clear day, but none of us went to church. Sister was afraid of the bad roads, Metta, Mrs. Meals, Julia and I all sick. I think I am taking measles. Jan. 1 , Wednesday I am just getting well of measles, and a rough time I had of it. Measles is no such small ad to go off with the Yankees when Mrs. Butler had her in Marietta last summer. Her mother went, and tried to persuade Harriet to go, too, but she said: I loves Miss Julia a heap better'n I do you, and remained faithful. Sister keeps her here because Mrs. Butler is a refugee and without a home herself. Jan. 16, Monday Sis
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