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N. C. Crawford (search for this): chapter 2
Logan's associates at the bar, we were married by Hon. W. K. Parish, judge of the circuit court of the third judicial district of Illinois. After a bridal breakfast, accompanied by Judge Parish, Hon. W. J. Alien, Mr. Logan's law partner, Hon. N. C. Crawford, and my father, we departed for Benton, Franklin County, Illinois. The journey was made in buggies, two persons in each. The roads were almost impassable. At a little inn on the way to Shawneetown, in the small town of Equality, distanty next morning we resumed our journey to Benton, which was to be our future home. The road for the thirty-five-mile drive was as bad as it could possibly be. The weather was raw and cold, and we were delighted when, led by Judge Parish and Mr. Crawford, we entered Judge Parish's hospitable door at Benton, Illinois. Judge Parish and Mr. Logan were very intimate, and the Judge and his lovely wife had insisted that we should make our home with them until we should establish one of our own. Mrs.
John M. Cunningham (search for this): chapter 2
Trunks and belongings had all been packed, and we were not long in donning our travelling-dresses, and saying good-by to the sisters and members of the household of our Alma Mater. Youth is so full of spirit that our tears were soon dried, and we were all happy in returning to our homes and friends, to begin building castles in the air for the future, as girls are wont to do. During my absence at school John A. Logan, mentioned as serving in the same regiment with my father, Captain John M. Cunningham, of the 1st Illinois Volunteer Infantry, came to Shawneetown, Gallatin County, Illinois, where we then resided. He was the prosecuting attorney of the third judicial district, and was obliged to attend the sessions of the circuit court. He was not long in renewing his acquaintance with my father, or in reminding father that he still expected him to redeem his promise, made while they were soldiering in Mexico, to give Logan his daughter Mary in marriage when she was old enough.
Hettie A. Dillon (search for this): chapter 2
, is now the comfort of my declining years. I was forcibly reminded of the changes which time has wrought by the receipt of a letter some time ago from Mrs. Hettie A. Dillon, wife of Captain Dillon, of Benton, Illinois. Mrs. Dillon was then Miss Hettie A. Duncan, and was one of the town girls in the equestrian contest describedCaptain Dillon, of Benton, Illinois. Mrs. Dillon was then Miss Hettie A. Duncan, and was one of the town girls in the equestrian contest described in the foregoing, when she rode with General Logan's brother, William, both of whom were fine riders, but too dignified to descend to the Comanche style of their rivals from the country. The following extract will serve to show how much the town of Benton has progressed since the days of the war: Recently a member of our SelMrs. Dillon was then Miss Hettie A. Duncan, and was one of the town girls in the equestrian contest described in the foregoing, when she rode with General Logan's brother, William, both of whom were fine riders, but too dignified to descend to the Comanche style of their rivals from the country. The following extract will serve to show how much the town of Benton has progressed since the days of the war: Recently a member of our Self Culture Club entertained us in her new beautiful home upon the site of the old Floral Hall where long ago exaggerated pumpkins, squashes, beets, and other farm products, with great bunches of zinnias, hollyhocks, and coxcombs, competed for blue ribbons. It seems rather an odd coincidence that in the spacious reception-hall a bea
Dominique (search for this): chapter 2
from a cucumber to a mammoth pumpkin or squash; from a glass of jelly to a barrel of marmalade; from a gingersnap to huge loaves of bread and cake; from a dainty piece of embroidery to innumerable patchwork quilts; from a yard of flannel to yards of jeans and bright bayadere --striped linsey dress-goods, and rag carpeting; from a lady's fan made of the golden-bronze feathers of a turkey's tail to fly-brushes from the glory of a peacock; from a breed of Brahma, Spanish, Shanghai, Cochin, or Dominique chickens to proud cocks and blustering hens of every species; from goslings to geese and swans; from ducklings to quacking ducks of all varieties. Pigs, cattle, horses, mules, and every species of domestic animal preserved in the ark, and propagated since the days of the flood, swelled the list competing for superiority. Fruits and flowers in limitless numbers were brought and arranged to the best advantage for competition, according to the taste and tact of the exhibitor. Sometimes the
Hettie A. Duncan (search for this): chapter 2
in performing every duty, and shared in the enjoyment of every pleasure when we started on life's journey together. In it our first two children were born. Unfortunately we lost our firstborn son. Our only living child, Mrs. Mary Logan Tucker, is now the comfort of my declining years. I was forcibly reminded of the changes which time has wrought by the receipt of a letter some time ago from Mrs. Hettie A. Dillon, wife of Captain Dillon, of Benton, Illinois. Mrs. Dillon was then Miss Hettie A. Duncan, and was one of the town girls in the equestrian contest described in the foregoing, when she rode with General Logan's brother, William, both of whom were fine riders, but too dignified to descend to the Comanche style of their rivals from the country. The following extract will serve to show how much the town of Benton has progressed since the days of the war: Recently a member of our Self Culture Club entertained us in her new beautiful home upon the site of the old Floral Ha
Durbin (search for this): chapter 2
of the Order of Saint Vincent's, and their sombre black gowns. The priest, Father Durbin, was in his garden, walking up and down bareheaded, saying his prayers. Th, and was gray with age. One arm of the cross was the convent and the other Father Durbin's home and study. The large cross over the front apex impressed me as bein, led him to his cabin, promising him that we would get Sister Isabella and Father Durbin to send the overseer away. We bathed his old black back with warm water, athought it a shame that he should be outside, so, one night when we thought Father Durbin was away visiting the churches under his jurisdiction, we went up to the ce the poor fellow's grave inside the sacred grounds. We were mistaken about Father Durbin's being away, and, in the morning, going out to walk, he discovered what hnue his eternal sleep in unhallowed ground. Years afterward I confessed to Father Durbin who the heretics were, and the dear old man insisted he suspected us all th
Eden (search for this): chapter 2
were fast asleep, as few of us had any cares or anxieties to keep us awake after retiring. I often recall the long dormitory with our beds side by side, and dear Sister Lucy at the end with her bed, table, and books, curtained off by white curtains. She was always within call of the girls of the dormitory. We were not saints, and we gave the dear sisters a good deal of trouble, like all mischievous, healthy, active girls have done since Mother Eve created a disturbance in the Garden of Eden. Transportation being very difficult in those days, many of us spent our holidays at the academy, and employed our time in embroidering, knitting, repairing our clothes, and sometimes in feasting and dancing. We were allowed to go into the parlor to be introduced to the parents of the girls who came to visit them, and on these occasions we were coached as to the manner of entering the room, saluting the guests, and how to withdraw without betraying awkwardness. Sister Isabella gave us
Father (search for this): chapter 2
se, shouting and huzzaing, regardless of his attempts to be put down. I remember how, on hearing the noise and music, my mother went to the door. Seeing father in his elevated position, she knew what it all meant and began to cry, while we children gazed wild-eyed, first at father and then at mother's tearful face, wondering what it was all about. As soon as father could get away, he came home to tell mother he was going to Mexico. All was commotion in the home for many days following. Father's company was made Company B, 1st Regiment, Illinois Infantry Volunteers. He was ordered to march his company to Alton, Illinois, where the regiment was to rendezvous. I shall never forget the pathetic scenes which occurred the day they left Marion to begin their long march, which ended in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The wives, daughters, and sweethearts of the one hundred and ten men came into town to say their good-bys. The morning was spent in the final preparations. After a twelve-o'clock
Sue Fletcher (search for this): chapter 2
hat we were all extremely happy. I can picture now how she looked sitting on her green throne in her uniform. A crown of flowers decked her cap, and a long rope of flowers hung around her neck and about her unsylphlike waist, with long ends hanging down the sides. We had made her a sceptre by twining flowers around a stick. This she wielded with much dexterity, directing the rendering of the programme of songs, recitations, and original poems, which we had prepared for the occasion. Sue Fletcher was a born poetess and had written a long poem which caused much merriment among us; Sister Isabella laughed as heartily over it as any of the girls. After sundown, we escorted her with mock solemnity back to the refectory, where she had ordered for us a lovely supper. It was truly a happy May-day. We used to exercise by taking long walks in the woods; in the spring gathering flowers, in the fall gathering nuts. We hoarded up large quantities of nuts for the winter, as well as pop-
John Gilpin (search for this): chapter 2
e left at our home. We felt that these dear people appreciated the interest we took in these fairs. Speeding their horses was especially exciting and brought the largest crowd of fair week. There was especial interest in the equestrian contests, because couples of men and women from the country and town competed for the prizes. Fast riding, not unlike that of the wild west, was considered evidence of the finest attainment in the art. Once, at a county fair, I witnessed a veritable John Gilpin ride in an equestrian contest participated in by six couples. Three of the couples were from the towns and three from the country. The young ladies and gentlemen from the town wore genteel riding-suits, one couple being arrayed in dark-green cloth, one in black, and one in dark-blue. The ladies wore stovepipe hats with long blue or gray tissue veils wound around them and tied in front — the fashion of that day. The country girls wore their summer dresses, ordinary hats, and riding-skir
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