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Browsing named entities in Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865.

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their conversation we overheard, by her extreme bookishness. She was clearly just out of school. The only other lady on the car was closely occupied with the care of her husband, a wounded Confederate officer, whom we afterwards learned was Maj. Bonham, of South Carolina. It is only eleven miles from Camack to Mayfield, but the road was so bad and the train so heavy that we were nearly two hours in making the distance. Some of the seats were without backs and some without bottoms, and t to look after the trunks. Strong-headed men walked along the sleepers on either side, to steady any one that might become dizzy. Just behind Metta, who followed the captain and me, hobbled a wounded soldier on crutches, and behind him came Maj. Bonham, borne on the back of a stout negro porter. Last of all came porters with the trunks, and it is a miracle to me how they contrived to carry such heavy loads over that dizzy, tottering height. Once across the bridge we disposed ourselves w
litary shanty at the present terminus of the R. R. Fred had sent Mr. Belisle, one of his men, ahead to engage a conveyance, and he met us wittopped at a forlorn country tavern, where Fred turned us over to Mr. Belisle, and went in to spend the night there, so as to return to Augustning into his own hands. Mett and I staid in the wagon and sent Mr. Belisle to settle for us, but the gentlemen of our party who went in, saaugh. We had a royal breakfast, and while we were eating it, Mr. Belisle, who had spent the night at the hotel, drove up with a four-mule as a nigger an' a wheelbarrer. I was so uneasy that I asked Mr. Belisle to go and question the man further, because I knew that after hey two hands. Capt. Mackall charged himself with my parcels, and Mr. Belisle was left to look after the trunks. Strong-headed men walked alohad gone out, so we went to the Lanier House, and I at once sent Mr. Belisle for Brother Troup, only to learn that he had gone on the very tr
was gladly accepted. We also made room for Dr. Shine, one of the officers of their party, who, weiver, had been turned afoot to make room for Dr. Shine, and was walking ahead to act as guide in thmfortable feeling of safety and protection. Dr. Shine brought us a toddy, and the colonel and the rta, which seemed to recede as we advanced. Dr. Shine, who was driving, didn't know the road, and thing to talk about the rest of their days. Dr. Shine and the Texas captain had gone ahead of the While Charles and Crockett, the servants of Dr. Shine and the colonel, were unpacking our baskets mfortably housed, I thanked Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine for their efforts, in a pair of impromptu vefederate uniform in sight. Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine joined the walkers, too, in the vain hope of nothing but measles. When we got to Macon, Dr. Shine further relieved my mind by assuring me it and proposed taking us to her house, and on Dr. Shine's advice I decided to accept this invitation
Belle Randolph (search for this): chapter 2
delegations from the old woman that lived in a shoe, and crowds of pedestrians, unable to find a sticking place on tongue or axle, plodded along on foot. The colonel and his wife were about to get into a rough old plantation wagon, already overloaded, but Fred said she was too pretty to ride in such a rattle-trap, and offered her a seat in ours, which was gladly accepted. We also made room for Dr. Shine, one of the officers of their party, who, we afterwards found out, was a friend of Belle Randolph. About a mile from Mayfield we stopped at a forlorn country tavern, where Fred turned us over to Mr. Belisle, and went in to spend the night there, so as to return to Augusta by the next train. I felt rather desolate after his departure, but we soon got into conversation with the colonel and his bride, the gentlemen who were following on foot joined in, and we sang rebel songs and became very sociable together. We had not gone far when big drops of rain began to fall from an angry
William Simpson (search for this): chapter 2
right in de subjues er de town now. And sure enough, the next turn in the road revealed the lights of the village glimmering before us. We drove directly to Mr. William Simpson's, and when Metta and I had gotten out, the wagon went on with its other passengers to the hotel. We met with such a hearty reception from Belle and her mo a cold wind had sprung up that rattled the naked boughs of a great elm, heavy with raindrops, against our window. As soon as the houseboy had kindled a fire, Mrs. Simpson's maid came to help us dress, and brought a toddy of fine old peach brandy, sweetened with white sugar. I made Mett take a big swig of it to strengthen her fad engaged places for us and our trunks to Milledgeville, at seventy-five dollars apiece. It was a common plantation wagon, without cover or springs, and I saw Mr. Simpson shake his head ominously as we jingled off to take up more passengers at the hotel. There were several other conveyances of the same sort, already overloaded,
t they had decided to press the wagon in case of necessity, to take the party to Gordon, and all being now ready, we moved out of Sparta. We soon became very sociable with our new companions, though not one of us knew the other even by name. Mett and I saw that they were all dying with curiosity about us and enjoyed keeping them mystified. The captain said he was from Baltimore, and it was a sufficient introduction when we found that he knew the Elzeys and the Irwins. and that handsome Ed Carey I met in Montgomery last winter, who used to be always telling me how much I reminded him of his cousin Connie. Just beyond Sparta we were halted by one of the natives, who, instead of paying forty dollars for his passage to the agent at the hotel, like the rest of us, had walked ahead and made a private bargain with Uncle Grief, the driver, for ten dollars. This Yankee trick raised a laugh among our impecunious Rebs, and the lieutenant, who was just out of a Northern prison, and very shor
Sam Weller (search for this): chapter 2
comer proved to be a very amusing character, and we nicknamed him Sam Weller, on account of his shrewdness and rough-and-ready wit. He was dree business with firearms? Sometimes, when they was in a hurry, Mr. Weller explained, with that horrible, grim irony of his, the guns would ons or an escaped lunatic from the state asylum in his nightgown, Sam Weller jumped up, exclaiming: Galvanized, galvanized! Stop, drive Grief to drive on without taking any further notice of him, but Sam Weller assured us that the country people would certainly hang him if th relish the companionship very much, though he said nothing. But Sam Weller couldn't let him rest, and immediately began to berate him for hi, and I liked him for it. Just before reaching Milledgeville, Sam Weller got down to walk to his home, which he said was about two miles bldn't understand. Now, don't lose the poor wretch, I said to Mr. Weller, as they moved off together. No, no, miss, I won't do that,
op them with the cologne Mrs. Elzey had given us, and it proved a great boon. The dwellings that were standing all showed signs of pillage, and on every plantation we saw the charred remains of the gin-house and packing-screw, while here and there, lone chimney-stacks, Sherman's Sentinels, told of homes laid in ashes. The infamous wretches! I couldn't wonder now that these poor people should want to put a rope round the neck of every red-handed devil of them they could lay their hands on. Hay ricks and fodder stacks were demolished, corn cribs were empty, and every bale of cotton that could be found was burnt by the savages. I saw no grain of any sort, except little patches they had spilled when feeding their horses and which there was not even a chicken left in the country to eat. A bag of oats might have lain anywhere along the road without danger from the beasts of the field, though I cannot say it would have been safe from the assaults of hungry man. Crowds of soldiers were t
Joe Brown (search for this): chapter 2
ch bad English that we couldn't understand. Now, don't lose the poor wretch, I said to Mr. Weller, as they moved off together. No, no, miss, I won't do that, he answered in a tone of such evident sincerity that I felt Hans was safe in the care of this strange, contradictory being, who could talk so like a savage, and yet be capable of such real kindness. Before crossing the Oconee at Milledgeville we ascended an immense hill, from which there was a fine view of the town, with Gov. Brown's fortifications in the foreground and the river rolling at our feet. The Yankees had burnt the bridge, so we had to cross on a ferry. There was a long train of vehicles ahead of us, and it was nearly an hour before our turn came, so we had ample time to look about us. On our left was a field where 30,000 Yankees had camped hardly three weeks before. It was strewn with the debris they had left behind, and the poor people of the neighborhood were wandering over it, seeking for anything t
left Milledgeville, and it began to rain in earnest. Then we lost the road, and as if that were not enough, the bride dropped her parasol and we had to stop there in the rain to look for it. A new silk parasol that cost four or five hundred dollars was too precious to lose. The colonel and the captain went back half a mile to get a torch, and after all, found the parasol lying right under her feet in the. body of the wagon. About nine o'clock we reached Scotsborough, the little American Cranford, where the Butlers used to have their summer home. Like Mrs. Gaskell's delightful little borough, it is inhabited chiefly by aristocratic widows and old maids, who rarely had their quiet lives disturbed by any event more exciting than a church fair, till Sherman's army marched through and gave them such a shaking up that it will give them something to talk about the rest of their days. Dr. Shine and the Texas captain had gone ahead of the wagon and made arrangements for our accommodation
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