Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865

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[82] white man within three miles, not even an overseer, we were a little startled, but mustered courage, sister, Mett, and I, followed by two or three of the negroes, to go to the door. Instead of a stray Yankee, or a squad of deserters, we confronted a smart young Confederate officer in such a fine new uniform that the sight of it nearly took our breath away. He said he was going to the Cochran plantation, but got lost in the pond back of our house and had come in to inquire his way. Sister invited him into the sitting-room, and he sat there talking with us till one of the servants could saddle a mule and go with him to show him the road. Sister said she felt mean for not inviting him to spend the night, but she was too tired and worried to entertain another guest now, if the fate of the Confederacy depended on it. His uniform was too fresh and new anyway to look very heroic.

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Jan. 31, Tuesday

Sister and I spent the morning making calls. At the tithing agent's office, where she stopped to see about her taxes, we saw a battalion of Wheeler's cavalry, which is to be encamped in our neighborhood for several weeks. Their business is to gather up and take care of broken-down horses, so as to fit them for use again in baggage trains and the like. At the postoffice a letter was given me, which I opened and read, thinking it was for me. It began “Dear Ideal” and was signed “Yours forever.” I thought at first that Capt. Hobbs or Albert Bacon was playing a joke on me, but on making inquiry at the